Friday, November 11, 2005

a mouse

This morning when I wanted to toast some bread, a little mouse jumped out of the toaster. Can you believe it?

All day I've been thinking about how to get out of here. I'm going to hear from a program in San Diego soon and if they hire me I might accept. It's getting cold here.

I woke up on the tail end of a dream about partying with the mayor. He was ordering drinks from the bar and the bartender said, "Do you want well vodka or something special?" and the mayor was acting arrogant, like "How dare you venture to suggest that I drink well vodka? Do you know who I am?" In my dream I was uncomfortable with his rude behavior, so I said loudly, "Let's have some really good vodka because we want to throw up something that doesn't taste so bad when we're speeding through town at eighty miles per hour on the Vespa! Ha ha ha ha!" Everybody laughed and the tension dissolved. The whole dream seemed very plausible, except when I woke up I was thinking there's no way a Vespa's going eighty miles per hour.


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