walk sign

i hate that he’s still in there, in my mind. i feel gross, to have looked, and to have dreamed. some people get in there deep i suppose. i felt like i didn’t even get that much to eat, in the end, around all those bones. we walked to the donut place, i had a glazed donut that tasted like nothing, as usual, like the glue on a stamp

i was feeling alienated and like i wanted to buy a pack of cigarettes. this is always my first reaction to feeling rejected. we made several revolutions and went up the hill into its interior, talking about having children and such. i’ve been worried about money again. imagining my money as corn in a machine of some sort, i’m imagining a big metal container with a hole at the bottom through which the corn flows. the corn being my money.

we all walked to the beach, it was so gray and cold and sinister out there, the sun had set recently, it was dark but there was light enough to see. there were some people fishing out by the water. it had been very foggy, hazy, clammy outside. my hair and skin became misted with sea air, i was wet. we stood around in the sand for a while. i could imagine walking out into the water, being gone. you would never be found. and it was so gray and cold and depressing, but kind of in a cool way. the sand had all blown up to the street and buried the walk sign on its pole, so that you could stand right next to the lighted box thing.

i lay there in the sun, the sky a liquid blue. i’ve learned not to go home until the sun has set, and the sun stays up a long time these days. i’m glad i exist in the real world, and not in the world of my own subconscious. it seemed grim in there, most of the washing machines were out of service, stuffed with wads of newspaper. i asked to be dropped off, i paused in the open door, looked at Eminem, said, will you call me later? he said yes. and some guy was sleeping in my room, without telling me, to observe me, as a teacher or something. though i was simply sleeping. well, that seemed invasive, i considered leaving the conference early. it was beautiful, and so calm, the plane drifting close to the ground, languorously, like a snake