072518 I would have not worn a shirt, but I’m not a huge fan of candle wax dripping down with the inexorable forces of gravity. there’s always so many interruptions. There’s the cat going MAAAAOOOW. MAAAAAOW because the food situation isn’t one hundred percent correct. There’s Millie taking a shower because you have to wake up before you even go to bed to beat that girl in the early rising game. Soon enough there will be the damnable slurp of her drinking coffee. I love her to death, but I hate listening to her drink coffee. She’s too young to possess a sound to be in possession of a sound that’s that annoying, bless her. Nobody’s ever going to see this, so it’s OK Miss D said “ANYTHING AT ALL AS LONG AS IT’S NOT PURE NONSENSE.” That’s the hard part—to remember that, and that that is OK. My “muscles” right now are: a) complaining b) screaming c) resisting d) crying a little e) all of the above I’m getting that “pointless” feeling, which I guess in a way is a good thing. Did she say you’re allowed to not think about it? I’ll have to review the pages and make sure I’m doing this right. I think I am, but I think I spoiled it a little bit by reading ahead, and seeing that there’s hints of what I’m supposed to be going to be looking for in a couple of weeks when I come back and look at this (NOT BEFORE!) and having to sort of pretend I didn’t read that part adds a certain amount of drag to my airplane wings. But it’s OK; this is only a paper airplane; I can always crumple it up and start again. Tape a penny to the front. Laugh when it does a zany loop the loop and crashes into couch mountain; everybody died but nobody got hurt. Dream: Well, it was another of those where she was back. However, this time was probably the least dully horrible out of all of them so far. It wasn’t that terrible. There was a sense that maybe, you know there was like an undercurrent of future horror (and past horror) but it didn’t have the pulsating subsonics of doom that it usually has. We were crammed up side by side and curled into each other. I was kissing her all over and so was some girl, her best friend somehow. She was different, she had changed. She had actual curves instead of globs. There was some conversation about why that was the case, about what had changed and made her more baby-love-like. I don’t remember the details, and it doesn’t matter because they were grounded in the shifty plasma of dream logic. Anyway, it was real nice and warm and flesh and sex and hard. She had on something white and cotton and half open, and the radiance of her skin flew out every time she shifted sideways a little, and I had therefore a new place to kiss and caress. There was some conversation of memories of the time before, but she seemed oddly oblivious. She idly wondered whether my mom had read and appreciated a note she had left her, and in the back three quarters of my mind I was thinking well of course she didn’t! Because by then she already knew what you had done, and they already had taken you away! But for some reason, the fact that she seemed to have overlooked the obviousness of that did not signal real loud as an alarm of deception the way you’d think it would; the way it would in real life and the way it even would in most of the previous dreams. It was muted, the alarm somehow this time. I guess that could be considered a scary thing, but this was so clearly a dream and not real life that I’m not going to worry about it. I’m just going to be a little bit thankful that I was given a nice hard wet warm throbbing resonant dream that makes what’s left of me horny and full of that delicious rush to surrender, and be grateful for the reprieve from the sinister, the grave reminder, the heavy-lidded synopsis of everything that had been going so mortally wrong for so many years while I slept through my crepuscular days. Yesterday: Why was I so irritable? Why did I feel so tired of my kids and all their selfish needs? Even the littles, who normally refresh so with their still-young-enough-to-play antics, were getting on my nerves. Millie’s self-defensive pretentiousness, Megan’s catlike aloof pure searing selfishness, and the littles just always being right on top of me, pawing like puppies just learning how to articulate their complaints—I just HAD a break from that, and I’m ready for another one! And at the same time, I get resentful when they ignore me. Ah, yes, well, I’ve no doubt I’m not the first parent who ever felt such a cracker-jack mix of betrayals and niggling aches. Get on with it. Make sure they survive. Make good food available. Improve on the cardboard box for shelter, and hope for the best. I got to very near 900 words today, my first day of Miss D’s instructions. Next step: pick a fifteen-minute time today to absolutely commit to, and then tomorrow morning the whole damn thing starts again. Having passed 900 words means I have quite a bit to work towards, because part of this, remember, is to push that morning count higher over the next week or so! Then it can settle back down into whatever average word count seems reasonable. I think. I’ll have to review the instructions sometime before tomorrow morning. So far so good. Good workout, bruh. See you at.... 4:00!