Was reading through a few entries I'd made in a little notepad I carry with me and occasionally pen thoughts in. This strange entry leaped out. It doesn't make much sense and reads like I was high on something. Lack of sleep, perhaps, since I'm almost never able to sleep on flights. Hope religious types don't bash me when they read this. FYI, "sacrilicious" and the waffle are a reference to The Simpsons.
9.25am, 31 Oct 2005, Monday
On SQ16, Singapore to San Francisco
Sitting in an aircraft I dream of angels and poems and angels in poems. Which is odd, as I don't believe in angels. I dream of weaving beauty with words.
I dream of saints, and it is a nightmare. Stigmata, obsession, denial and stupidity - all the saintly qualities. I picture the faithful dead, each in their own crown of thorns, blood trickling from wounds where they have attached their wings. They wear their robes of piety, ceaseless prayer, insanity, delusion, suffering and eternal hypnosis, standing in a host, naked and cold, unblinkingly gazing up in wonder at a laughing divinity.
Sacrilegious, sacrilicious. God or or waffle? Mask or mime? Thunder or lightning?
I don't know how to go on.
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