September 8, 2021

Up early in the party-ravaged condo, sea-sound through the open door. The door is so warped and off-track only two of us can open it. It must have rained during the night. Dolphins gamboling for a while in the distance. I got a severely sunburned face in what I thought was relatively little time exposed. 

Insane dreams: in one I wrote an entire play, talked about it with a director, cast it, had trouble with a cast member and found a replacement. In another I was a painter in a giant studio with many rooms and passageways. While exploring, I encountered a beautiful man (whom I seemed to know, but I can’t think now who) with whom I spent time. In the last scene he was advising me on how to improve my painting. His advice was “make it smaller.” In another I became friends with a Kardashian, especially with her little daughter who took a liking to me. I served as a kind of nanny. I accompanied the little girl to a TV talk show where the host insulted her mother, and I tried to think of something to say to the little girl to comfort her. 

The sea-sound is all the wonderful things people say it is.