Lorene Scafaria’s Seeking a Friend for the End of the World appeals to that part of me – that very large part – that spends a lot of time thinking about what I’d do if an asteroid were heading for our planet, or if we were staring down the barrel of a grey goo situation. Usually it’s zombies, of course, but when you’re daydreaming it’s important to mix it up occasionally.

Since the snow began to fall a few days ago, I’ve been having these amazingly fucked-up dreams about the end of the world as we know it (a recurring theme in my subconscious), and in my dreams I manage to survive them. Patently ridiculous, sure, but all the best apocalyptic stories aren’t really about the end of humanity but the survival of the worst part of it in microcosm. What’s my brain trying to say to me?

Last night it was the rise of the snow golems, marking their first appearance in my dreams. I’d say they were analagous to the hrímþursar of Norse mythology, the frost giants of Niflheim, but you and I both know that they probably seeped in from Marvel’s Thor comics.

And I really want to tell you that I figured out the frost giants’ weakness – you know, fire – and tooled up with a flamethrower, but it wasn’t as good as all that. I probably just sat down and talked through my problems with the frost giants around a gigantic tea set. My dreams are like a pretentious indie film that fizzles out after I’ve exhausted the two or three scenes implied by the concept. You might recognise this phenomenon from my writing.

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  1. xx-machine said: BAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAY HAS BEEN MADE
  2. barretta said: I feel like that call out to the hrimthursar is there just to make my morning awesome. Excellent, sir.
  3. jamiedrew posted this