Retreat

The side-blog of utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, appallingest excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane..

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Neil Gaiman’s personal notes, prior to his masterpiece that is The Sandman.

Neil Gaiman’s personal notes, prior to his masterpiece that is The Sandman.

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Yeehaw, indeed.

Yeehaw, indeed.

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Someday? “Someday my dream will come?” One night you will wake up and discover it never happened. It’s all turned around on you. It never will. Suddenly you are old. Didn’t happen, and it never will, because you were never going to do it anyway. You’ll push it into memory and then zone out in your barcalounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life. Don’t you talk to me about murder. All it ever took was a down payment on a Lincoln town car. That girl, you can’t even call that girl. What the fuck are you still doing, driving a cab? 

Someday?

“Someday my dream will come?”

One night you will wake up and discover it never happened. It’s all turned around on you.

It never will.

Suddenly you are old. Didn’t happen, and it never will, because you were never going to do it anyway.

You’ll push it into memory and then zone out in your barcalounger, being hypnotized by daytime TV for the rest of your life.

Don’t you talk to me about murder. All it ever took was a down payment on a Lincoln town car. That girl, you can’t even call that girl.

What the fuck are you still doing, driving a cab? 

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“…it takes a whole lot of whisky to make these nightmares go away.”

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