an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Monday, March 17, 2008

spring break


In the dream I'd bought a house with a dirty and gigantic jacuzzi tub (tawny plastic spigots, a 70s austere dinginess) and a labyrinthine basement stairwell tied off with baby-blue shoelace every ten feet. --An effort by the previous owner to keep their toddlers from a nasty fall. One did fall, stories down to smack the basement floor just as I asked the mother about the netting--this when the family showed up unexpectedly through the back door to sleep in the house a few more nights, as they said. Inconvenient for me as I had about four dates last night and would attempt to see all of them (Darren, you were there), though now with a house full of strangers and some scheme about rotations and my father (who was not my father) somehow ever in the next room.


Estuart was my real estate agent.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers