gord raze i had a dream he showed up drunk at three in the morning and knocked on the front_door of a house i don't live in anymore. i hid in the kitchen holding a hand towel while my dad told him i was busy. he could see me. he didn't understand why i wouldn't want to talk to him. the next day he came to the house i live in now, sober, at a saner hour. we stood in my studio and played flutes that weren't really flutes. mine was the hat i wear when i'm trying to shield my face from the sun. two silver snaps became tone holes. i found a way to bend a note without knowing what i was doing or why it was working. he asked me what kind of music i'd been making lately. "i don't do that anymore," i said. "this is the longest period of time i've spent in this room in years." he looked at me like he wanted to cry. 230830 what's it to you? who go blather from