Sunday, November 27, 2005


Towards bedtime, I simply grabbed what was at hand, parahrasing John Hershey, it was Too Far To Walk to Solzhenitsyn. I read Vollmann until my eyes burned, then I dreamt my brother Tim shot me in the stomach with shotgun, robbed me of ten grand and was heading to Germany. I don't have ten thousand dollars. New Albany doesn't have an international airport (though I was looking for it in my dream) and I am somewhat sure that after being gutshot one couldn't pedal a bicylce. alas --- jon


Anonymous S.P. Melgunov said...

...I thought that moi was the only one whom had wierd dreams, especially after pints of high gravity ales...

You ever have re-occuring dreams that are so vivid that you spend much time the next day or two trying to figuring them out?

2:38 PM  

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