Thursday, March 04, 2021

I was anticipating a trip abroad, Europe somewhere. Before leaving I wanted to entrust my notebook of important ideas to a friend.


“Here you go,” I told him somberly.


We leafed through it together. I wanted to make sure he understood my notes, my lists, my half-assed sketches for short stories or plays.


“And here’s my gun,” I said as I got up to leave, pulling it from the back of my waistband. He accepted it without concern or hesitation, as though I’d handed him a set of keys. “Don’t use it!” I warned as I walked away.


He called out to me and asked if I could bring him back two chocolate eclairs. I said yes, although I thought this was kind of a pain in the ass. Carrying them gingerly in their little box through the airport, onto the plane. Another friend who sat nearby asked me to bring him back a large coffee-table book on the subject of Italian theatre.


Friday, February 05, 2021

The Lakers were winning by 10 or so points in the last minutes of Game 7 of the NBA Finals. Some kind of technical foul was called that resulted in every Laker player getting a free throw, including the bench. After a few had shot and scored, with the championship in hand, P. C. bounded onto the court to give a rousing speech about how happy he was that his beloved team would win. When he was done there were a few moments of silence, which I ended by initiating a round of applause.

Thursday, February 04, 2021

I was in an Amsterdam-like hash bar run by Seth Rogen. He served a cloudy little pot-infused drink and I drank it in one shot. Immediately I experienced a mellow, spacey high. Later there was some talk that the liquid might have been bong water, but everything seemed OK.

Friday, January 15, 2021

The town was covered in florid graffiti. Some of it was abstract. Some was numbers and symbols from a math problem or proof. We ventured out in groups to create video projects.

Monday, January 11, 2021

I was in some lair in the middle of a casino entertainment complex, indoor-outdoor, possibly situated on an island. I peered across the way at the concert hall and its old-fashioned marquee ringed with light bulbs. It read “LUCIANO PAVAROTTI.” I thought, the fat man must be around here somewhere. Doing what he does when he’s not on stage.


It was a bleak dream of lost opportunities and wasted time.


Saturday, January 02, 2021

Dreadful dreams. I was watching a car race, and I was in it too. It was in the past, part of some underground, semi-legal racing culture, like maybe what stock car racing used to be. Different kinds of cars raced pell-mell; open-wheel, GT. A maniacal driver chased down another and crashed into him from behind, somehow pinning the driver’s body against the rear bumper. Blood and gore emerged and covered the tail of the car, which kept racing in a zigzag. There was real malice in what the attacking driver did, a bloodlust. It seemed related to current politics.


Wednesday, December 30, 2020

I’d been fired from the band but was still living in the house, wondering what I should do next. Move away to a random town? Reconnect with an old girlfriend?