Listening to Atripla

[Usually they're sword-and-sandal, spaceship-and-raygun, Mutual-of-Omaha's-Wild Kingdom grand epics that seem to take hours. Sometimes they do take hours, if my calculations after being jolted awake from being zapped by a three-headed Anna Nicole Smith clone in Far Andromeda are correct. Sometimes they take only minutes, but what minutes!]

[But sometimes they're epic, but they take place in a little dead-end street in what was once a little burg an hour north of here that no one heard of that now everyone's heard of thanks to wine. And those are the ones that really make me wonder if I even want to try to go back to sleep. I was asked a week ago why I don't plug more often into a certain resource that's always been there to help battle the loneliness component of my depression. Well, it was just a dream, but...now I have an answer.]

[It's my life. Don't you forget. It never ends...]

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