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- Last night I dreamed about my typewriter and the story I was writing. It was a long night; I was being kicked. Tonight on the way back from Vancouver I dreamed that I nearly fell out the door of the car. I need some time to process things but maybe it's good that I have no time to myself right now. What better way to tell someone you don't give two shits about them than to not tell them that at all. 1. It's fun having short hair although it changes the institution of showering completely. 2. I'm going to take my typewriter into my bedroom tonight and we're going to look at each other and think. And then we're going to write. I have that great notebook I got in Costa Rica, too. Writing will commence whenever it commences. 3. We're still waiting, we're still seeing, we're still okay. 4. People, or so I say, are increasingly important to me and it's okay that I'm spending time with so many these days. It's okay, I can process it all in a few weeks. (Although it does make me persnickety and I was being a crybaby Friday night.)
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