weirdly raze i was witness to a playful lovers' squabble. she said a thing, and he said a thing, and she said another thing, and the things they said were so full of wit they deserved preserving. but i knew i was in a dream, and anything i wrote down would be lost as soon as the dream ended. i woke up at someone else's dining room table and saw i'd been writing everything down in my sleep, in perfect printing that couldn't decide if it wanted to resemble cursive writing, but instead of using the blank piece of paper in front of me i'd written everything on the table. ashamed of what i'd done to the innocent oak, i wiped the words away before i could read them, smearing them into a mess i'd have a hell of a time washing off of the palms of my hands later on. had i realized that was a dream too, i might not have bothered. 141023 what's it to you? who go blather from