Friday

gosh I had this really graphic dream about living with Bukowski. I just remembered my dream in an email to my friend.

Please are packing up things around me. its rather disturbing. None of us want to go.

There is a pit in my stomach - or gut - and it does not want to go.

it has to go to Jersey City.

It does not want to go. My brain can't even figure out how to get there.

It does not want to go.