I was sitting in a train with my boyfriend. He gave me a diamond ring and asked me to marry him. So I said yes and went to a benefit rock concert. Someone hit some else with a guitar, and the band was disappointed and stopped playing.

My grandmother then took me out to dinner, and we had to dress up in costumes of the old west once we got to the restaurant. (The costumes were on the menu, and you had to order one with your dinner.)

The next day I was at the university, and my boyfriend ran up to me. He told me we couldn't get married yet, because he was going to ask Anna Kournikova, and he was going to marry her if she said yes. But then he gave me a wedding ring with three little diamonds in it. So I wasn't too worried, but then I saw him later and he told me that he was going to marry Anna, because she said yes.

I don't even think my boyfriend knows who Anna Kournikova is.

Richard Dawson was stuck in the boonies, as I was. Nothing to do. He pulled out a small plastic bag of homegrown cannabis, saying how he had to smoke about five bags to get high last night. I congratulated him on the fact that he'd spent his boonie-time doing something productive, growing the plants. I looked at the weed a little, but we never got around to smoking it.
I was trying to explain to someone the trajectory of Wayne Shorter's life, from the late 60s to now, his handicapped son (Iska?), his divorce and remarriage, his chanting, and how all that had an effect on his music over the years. My explanation was going nowhere.
I was trying to ask the real estate agent to describe the apartment again; it sounded like it was a studio apartment, twelve feet by four feet. I tried to imagine these dimensions and decide if that would be enough living space.
I could hear Coleman Hawkins playing, and people discussing him. A documentary? I sat back and enjoyed...

...as it turned out, IRL it was the clock radio, tuned to WKCR and its all-day Hawkins programming (it's Bean's birthday), and rather than hop out of bed to get ready for work, I overslept by a half-hour. But I guess that should go in my day log :)

I had to wear extensions on the bottoms of my shoes, because those who went to civil alt had to be tall enough, for few days at least. I had long clutches because walking with the extensions was hard, but I got to some office. On the stairway two men were coming down, but when they got to me, one of them noticed my pistol and asked "Isnt that a Gaar gun?". Gaar was some sort of mafia organisation, and the gun I carried was indeed designed and used only by Gaar members. I didnt know what to say, but the other man pushed the first one forward, and secretly gave me a knife, telling that I can use it freely if his companion gets agressive. I had exactly identical combat knife myself, but I didnt have time to tell about it. They left, but the man that had noticed my gun came back, wielding a knife and swearing that he'll kill the Gaar scum. I threw the knife I was given at him, but I missed so I pulled my own knife from the ankle holdster. I was standing high, so I had trouble reaching down to him, and he managed to cut a wound in my left leg. I tried to hit him again, but he easily cut me again, and I woke up from the helpless situation.. I still dont know why I hadnt said I had stolen the gun, or even better, just shot him with it.

i have discovered that by focusing my perspective onto a point high in the sky, i can jump up to it, making it appear like i can fly. i do this the whole way home only to discover a fight in my neighbor's backyard.

someone runs up to me and tells me someone just punched tricia. i fly over the fence and land, screaming and pushing people. chris and nick seem to be at the epicenter of the problem. i know that one of them hit my tricia, and now i know that one of them will die.

chris tells me that it's none of my business and i should stay the hell out of it. i grab his throat, focus my perspective way up high, and jump. he dangles from my grip as i coast through the air. at the peak of my jump, his throat gives way and he falls back to the ground, leaving me with a clump of organs and tissue in my hand.

i land and find tricia. she's crying and said they punched her because she objected to them hurting one of her friends. nick plows into me from behind and begins punching me in the head. manuel and two of his cronies pin me to the ground. one of them pulls out a butterfly knife and holds the blade behind my left ear. he begins applying downward pressure, cutting into the back of my head. i try to wrestle my way free, but can't, so i go limp.

they finally let me up, i regain my composure, clutch my head wound, and tell them that they've signed their death warrants. i grab tricia and fly her to my house where people are trashing my car. they see me land and run away. i explain to tricia and my mom how i can fly now.


i'm at a party telling my close friends how i'm "out of the game" which we all know somehow means that i'm gonna stop hanging out altogether. i tell them i can't take how violent and sick this world has become. i briefly mention plans to take tricia and fly away to some island somewhere. i hear a phone ring. (in reality, it's tricia, wondering whether i'd like to join her for lunch.)

I was on an island talking to someone, I think it was a girl, about what? I can't remember. The island we were on was within a hundred yards of a larger island with a house on it. The islands were so close that boating between them was very easy and very safe.

Just then we heard a boat coming toward us trying to cross the gap, and I also noticed a raging storm going on, but for some reason I hadn't noticed it before. Somehow I knew the boat was occupied by Steve Urkel and others like him. I was commenting to the girl how, even in the storm, they could make it here safely. Then we heard "My glasses!" in a voice that sounded a lot like Milhouse from The Simpsons. So we decided to help them back to the other island, and into the sunroom of the house which was full of sleeping bags and soda cans. It was here that I got a good look at myself, I looked like what, in my dream, I thought was an ancient Israeli king. I wanted to slip out quietly, when I woke up. Talk about an exit!

A Dream -------- Downtown London.. Riding a motor scooter between the skyscrapers which are reminiscent of the skyline of Dallas. I turn a corner to find a vast, perfectly square, perfectly flat lake surrounded by a short steel fence. I stop by the corner of the body of water and watch for something, but nothing comes. Suddenly, behind me a car whizzes by and smashes into a young British man on a bicycle. He looks perfectly happy, although quite dead, and undamaged. As I stroll towards the accident, I feel a tugging at a tiny point at the back of my skull. "I" (my mind) am pulled, siphoned, SUCKED from my body through that point and inserted into the mind of an old oriental man, running through the slums of Tokyo.

I am not in control of this body, I can only experience what is taken in by his senses, no ability to influence anything. We are running as if our lives depended on it. I feel a weight on our left side, and luckily he looks down for a moment so I can see what it is we are carrying. It is a thick plastic bag with a zipper running down the middle. A body bag. We struggle to run with the bag, the weight of the body inside slowing us.

We reach the back of a white house at the end of a row of apartments, and look through a screen door at a beautiful Japanese garden. A flowing stream down the middle and the bamboo surrounding the area make it a wonderful sight. We notice a hill at the back of the garden, beyond which we cannot see. Pushing through the screen door, we run towards the top of the hill. Looking behind us, we see a man who seems very upset and is chasing us for a reason unknown to me. He screams and gestures for us to stop, and then, unblinking, he looks to the side and notices a small structure which appears to be a bath house. He becomes sedated, a smile creeps onto his face and he enters the bath house and does not return.

Rounding the top of the hill, we look down upon a device that looks very similar to a swimming pool pump or filter. Running down towards it, we throw open the top of the device and dump the body inside. After closing the top, we turn a crank on the side and the sounds of grinding bone can be heard from within.

I am at a wedding with my extended family (sheesh, enough of this theme already). I am sitting in the church, nursing my son. The family walks by one at a time, all of them uncomfortable. They think I am being indecent, offensive, how could I be such a barbarian and nurse in church? Through all of this I am having a private conversation with God.

You don’t mind that I am nourishing my child do you?” I say, with an ironic smile.

God chuckles. “Hell no!” He says.

I ask Him if it really is inappropriate of me to nurse in His church and He laughs, “This isn’t my church!

He tells me it makes no difference, as He would be anywhere I was, even if I ducked into the bathroom to feed my child.

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