. . . ran over my toy Bionic Man with the lawn mower . . .


I got on the metro train today, and I wrote the following on a sticky note:
"Instead of ringing, I wish my cell phone would squirt blood all over me."
I put the sticky note on back of the seat in front of me, and I got up and moved to another seat further down. Four people got on the train, and a couple of them took the seat where I wrote that sticky note. I had my music way up in my ear phones, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were pointing at the note and laughing and letting each other look at it, and then they were looking around the car confused. When they looked at me, I just looked out the window, indifferent.


Sometimes I believe I have a memory of my own birth. It is a flash of setting that occurs to me occasionally and has been with me for as long as I can remember. This vision has just always been there. I don’t know how I came to recognize this vision as the setting of my own birth, but in the vision, I am in a hospital room with lots of equipment around. As I view the room, I am looking up at everything, as though from a bed. This vision is so old I am not sure whether it is a memory or a dream. I have a lot of memories like that - that might actually have been dreams. I have dreams that might have been memories. (Memories I remembered during dreams? Dreams of memories? Infinity?) They all fade into a past consciousness, some of it solid, some of it soft. I have dreams when just barely asleep - shallow splashes of sleep will not wash over them. I have had realities that I could not escape by going to sleep.


"Can I write about you?" he asked. She looked down.


Some human brains just taste better. Why is that?
GI Joe rodeo riding house cat rhyme opportunity action figure. Takin a nap, hush.