...
Ever since noticing the alacrity with which I cheered the crying girl leaving Steve Jobs' place the other night, I keep dreaming and dreaming but only remembering the bits where I'm doing that. I know I had a really epic dream about a week ago that I was determined I would remember, but the only part I remember was yelling at a young tough to caress a baby. He was holding it at a distance and I was demanding, like a drill sergeant, that he pull it too him and cuddle with it. He was not into this, but the power of my voice made him do it. I don't know the setting within which I would have this authority over a shithead youth, but I was being effective... sort of like I was the last chance for the kid somehow.
Last night was more of it, more gangstas being trained as true humans. I'm starting to think there is a point to this.
I like kids... boiled. I like troubled kids... skewered on a rotisserie. But. I love truth and the true humans who serve it. I'm no good if I don't give this to sentient beings.
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