25 January 2007

my anatomical leanings and a horrid nightmare.

This'll be a post with subheadings, i think.
It's just that kind of post.
And I love subheadings.

I went to bed feeling immensely clever.
I taught myself to write html and build websites etc from scratch many years ago, so whenever I finish one I always have this memory of my very first web page. (It was hand-coded, so to speak, and took about 13 hours. I kid you not. It was a red screen with the word hello that linked to a green page that said well done!.)
(My roomie at the time, 073666, was most impressed, especially when I got him out of bed to show him at 2 in the morning.
"Oh." he said, if I remember correctly.)

For those of you unfamiliar with my new site, one of the splash pages has four mason jars on a shelf, which, when rolled over, reveal different parts of human anatomy floating in the formaldehyde which lead you to the pertinent pages (ie. eyes for paintings, heart for books, stomach for freelance work)

I know.

I love anatomy. It fascinates the hell out of me, I think the human body is the most beautiful and AMAZING machine that exists. I think about it every day, and it never fails to remind me of magic, and I am convinced that every single thing we do, have, or have created, can be found to be a mere and modest mimicry of something that already goes on inside us physiologically.
(shrug) It's my ideal metaphor.

When I first told Coco (aka. 231079, aka RSS, aka what on earth do you want to be known as on this blog?) about my new design, she was vaguely horrified.
I chuckled a bit, as I do, seeing as I am the FIRST one under my chair, hands paralysed, when the horror movie trailers grace the theatre screen. I can deal with them, but from beneath my chair is the place I do it best.
When concocting my little splash page drawings, it didn't even occur to me that my little mason jars have much the same effect on your (well, not really average), but definitely sane human being.

I had a HORRIFIC nightmare last night.
Literally a "cold sweat and awaking in manic terror of the dark room" sort of dream. I don't have them often, and i hate them. HATE them. Probably because I spend so much time dissecting them for significance, I end up feeling like this is it, my time is up, etc etc.
I won't go into any details about it here, not only would it send you, dear reader(s) running, but would probably bring the little men in white coats clamouring forward to remove me from the internet for content violations.
But I will say in part of the dream I was decapitated.
(Don't worry, I sewed my head back on and even managed to smoke a cigarette.)
(And I don't even smoke.)
(Beetlejuice's got nothing on me.)

Now I comprehend, and now I worry.
I'm not really sure what to do, because what looks like four modest mason jars with anatomy in them is really a week and a half of toil and hairpulling.
So I suppose this is a disclaimer of sorts.

I guess for now, did I say go visit my website? Don't go visit my website.

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