Dreamt about my feelings but would rather write about my dreams: a settlement occupying most of Texas, underground, like a subway station and there are rooms modularly attached. No trouble, no demons or people out to get us but a meeting: a friend is coming in from somewhere else, maybe another dream, and needs instruction on how to get here. I give the phone to my brother. We learn they are coming from Los Gatos. It was much like a video game in that the world was simplified, grid like. The last thing I remember was controlling a little robot pet to earn experience points...Woke up with a dog splayed across the bed. She was like that throughout the night. A thick fog out the window makes the already white world look even white-er. Ghosty, like waking up inside of an angel food cake knowing there are only a few soft layers before day light. Kill Bill. Smashing a coffin with your fist. Fisting an old master. References to slavery and race relations while all I'm trying to do is wake up. Smell 2 coffee. Still got it. The dog was annoying and I would rather not sleep in the same bed but no one else was home she might of been lonely. Spent an entire evening on the bed before I was in it thus a sign of intention, getting in the car before its time to go. Writing from a place not grounded, careful not to make a mistake, defensive. The frantic jerky motion of trying to fill a page but now, infinate concentration: I feel as if I could stay on topic, stick to a topic like Gumby or Goompas Goomba need be or spin off into abstraction that automatic goodness that comes at the risk of two bags in the window resembling the world trade center before it fell. Last night I watched an interview with Beppe Severigni about the differences between Americans and the rest of the world...he seemed like a reasonable person.