there is a lawnmower outside that sounds like a jetski on open water

...

my head hurts from sleeping or dreaming or allergies.
maybe i need some coffee, maybe i need some new clothes, maybe i need to not go so deep.

it reminds me of being hypnotized. how i'd sit for an hour or longer, eyes opened, dead locked on something, waiting for direction, waiting for explosion, wanting always to go farther, deeper, darker. just another beat so i don't have to think. it was that kind of time.

and when it was over i'd come back up, and my head would be heavy, feel like a brick of thick humid air, like it does now--or did, its starting to fade.

that charliecat is so goddamn cute, with her little whiskers and paws atwitchin' while she's dreaming. i want to eat her face.
so i did. and we laid on each other for a few minutes until someone started coming up the stairs and she had to run away so no one saw her being sweet.

last night i dreamt of a hill i had to drive/bike up.. and i said, my that's a big hill and someone said, no that's not how you do it. or no, it's not steep. i don't remember.

there was something.. i was coming out of a building, these kids were on top of this truck crying, and so was their mom.. they sped off at the sight of a crazy man on a motorbike. i went back to the beginning. i saw him.. chasing them out of the house? something was happening here. they all took off, i helped them find some place to hide, someone who would take them to their mother, we all jumped on the truck.. driving.. everything was okay for a minute, i said HEY watch out, this is the part where he comes squealing around the corner on the motorbike. i jumped off the truck while they drove to safety. i tried to get to the guy, to get him to calm down. i said, what are you so angry for? there was a nail in his head. he tried to pull it out, i said no no that's not how you do that. i put my arm around him, told him not to worry about the people staring at him, i would make it okay.

then i was staying in my grandmother's house with all the lesbians and there was something about school here.. oh! something about being locked in a room with a bunch of kids and computers.. there was a teacher, who kept telling me to pay attention. i told her, whatever, i used to do improv i already know this stuff. then she demanded i do some, so i pretended to be her waiter.. it was dumb.. which somehow turned into my grandmother's house with the lesbians. someone had 'pizza' but i still wasn't allowed to have it because we couldn't figure out whose it was.. my grandmother's neighbors all came over to give her apple pie, all played by c-list actors, but she left the day before and they were all pissed.

if i'm going to write this book the way i want to, i'm going to have to plan the rest of it out. sit down and write it like i did the casey memoir. five notebook pages front and back of stream writing, trying to remember details and the like. not that this book wasn't stream writing to begin with. but i'm going to have to learn to plan somewhat or i'm not going to get anywhere with it .

and i'm going to have to learn to tell the brutal truth without being apologetic or backing up on my words.