I stayed home from work, and just had this dream when I went back to sleep: I was at some vacation house or something where I met up with a bunch of strange people that were talking about music, etc. At one point I needed a shower, so I went outside to the basketball court, for the pole with the net also had a shower thing on it for some reason. As I walked out there a group of 13 year olds came up to play basketball. I said I needed the shower, one particular boy said I couldn�t and gave me this tough guy attitude, I pushed him and said �do you know who I am? Do you know who I know?� They all left. I was insecure about having to walk down the street to the vacation house place in my bathrobe. When I got back to the vacation house place they were all in the living room, we started talking about Klezmer music, and in a rare moment of musical geekness, I had no idea what I was talking about. Someone asked the others if they should get high�they all revealed they had no pot though. I knew I had some but didn�t want to share any, so I went back to my room. As I went back all of them suddenly took their clothes off, and I remember getting caught looking at a girls �area� (she really was blonde) and her giving me a dirty look. I returned to my desk and read this long e-mail from Reina about going on this date with some very cute guy who looked perfect but was an asshole to her. Suddenly, Breaux and I were in my car leaving and I told him. �Don�t let those people know I had some pot, I wanted more to myself, I�m selfish like that�. Then I woke up to the cat examining the giant new computer boxes in my room here. I need coffee and eggs.

Reminder to read the new Hubert Selby Jr. book Waiting Period I bought a while back, it looks like a read-in-one-day book.

New computer is fast, quiet, filled with shit I have no idea what to do with. Black. Speakers are good, just shut Django off and now my subwoofer is treating the elderly couple Bill and Helen of �Bill and Helen� downstairs to some Black Sabbath�

Now that logging on to a computer at home is an enjoyable experience again, I will start working on the short stories again. I have them all on disks, unlike my 900 fonts I thought I transferred, but somehow didn�t, and now Jodie will make fun of me most likely, as I bragged about those fonts for a couple months now.

Tonight going to see the band at the Lizard, haven�t been in a while, and Joe and Mat Maneri are sitting in (on sax, clarinet, and electric violin respectively) so it should be intense. Joe is a free jazz pioneer from what I�ve read, and after the last time seeing him I was blown away. He told JDG of playing next door to Charlie Parker in the 40�s. Fuck, the only similar story I can tell is my old band played with Screeching Weasel, and nobody came because Suicidal Tendencies were playing up the street. Anyway, that goes from 10pm-2am, so it will be a late night. I will refrain from cocktails not only because I don�t have the money, but because the gambling habit is getting worse again. One vice at a time�although I do need to pack this bowl right now.

Sometimes I forget if I�m smoking a cigarette, or doing bong hits. It�s like this at 33.

Sometime over the summer, I wrote this, and just found it when transferring files:

Fuck it�s hot out. I enjoy the way this heat enshrouds me. After a particularly delicious dinner we retired back here and I looked at her. This is a surreal summer so far. I feel like Richard Gere. I�ve felt like him for a couple of months now. This will all fade away. By the fall, I will be back to square one stalking women in coffee shops and reading poetry I don�t understand, and listening to pretentious free jazz. How boring this whole cycle is. Perhaps I�ll move to New Zealand. Oh wait, I hate flying, and it would probably cost too much to ship all of these records, cd�s and books over there. Is there a tunnel that goes there I don�t know about?

before & after