bricolage if i don't do something that involves leaving my house in a day i feel as if i don't exist. so sometimes after dark i find myself not existing, looking out of the upstairs window at the sleepy little houses.

so at one a.m. i find myself leaving home on foot. the neighborhood is quaint but in the quiet the houses all look like mansions. no lights on an entire street. where are the parties. where are the sacrifices?

airplanes above full of sleepy passengers. i at first mistake them for shifting stars, something intriguing, science fiction like.

lay down in a yard illuminated by streetlights. yellowdead grass now golden. i don't know what i am doing. a lady comes outside and asks what i am doing. she asks me if i am drunk. i tell her that her flies must be on the wrong wall. i tell her the dog is walking me.
. . 050206
shower singer "I'm just taking the dog for a walk!" I yell as I am dragged out the door.

Chester looks back at me for a moment, as I do a stupid little run to catch up with him and then jerk to a halt when he hits the first tree to sniff. I can almost see him laughing at me "Sure. That's what we're doing. YOU are walking ME"
. . 050608
p2 in soviet russia... 050609
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