November 20, 2023

Y first thing. The hour of Amazons. Stopped at Starbucks afterwards. Sat outside watching the traffic on Charlotte Street, thinking God knows what. Tried to put my waste in a plastic bag lying just outside the door. A kid sitting at one of the outdoor tables said, “Hey! That’s my bag!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought it was trash.”

After that there was no recovery. I wanted to give the kid money, but anticipated the response, “What makes you think I want money, you old perv?” Nothing for it but to walk on. 

Continually amazed at how little dream life references waking life, how thoroughly independent they seem to be. Last night one dream had me in an iffy urban neighborhood, with some glamorous sections and some downtrodden sections. I seemed to be a mediator of some kind, keeping various gangs from wiping one another out. At one point I befriended a young girl, who was the girlfriend or perhaps property of a man (MM, actually) who may have been her pimp. I saw her crying on the street and she said MM wouldn’t let her eat because she had disobeyed in some way. I took her to a restaurant, intending to buy her a meal. The people at the restaurant said they couldn’t seat us unless we proved that our financial situation was equal, unless the girl could prove she had money or credit cards in her pocket, which of course she had not. I realized this was a way to curb prostitution in the establishment, but it still seemed unfair. The dream ended with me arguing with the manager, threatening, I think, to put her out of business. Waking, even if I were casting about for matter for a story, I would never have thought of that.

Reading of A God in the Waters cancelled for tonight. 

This month’s electric bill is twice last month’s. I assume it’s the heater that lets the studio be habitable.