phones should be outlawed. don’t prattle on to me about their potential for good. last nite after getting off of mine and drifting promptly into sleep, i dreamt:
that i was dreaming in my house in dc about ben — and suddenly he was there. we hung around, just laughing, wandering. got back into bed and the alarm clock went off realization: if i woke up he wouldn’t be there anymore competing with a little voice that said, hey, maybe he will
woke up and he wasn’t.
see? who needs it.
had a similar dream when i was in north carolina with lana, only in that dream ben was with us in that house and lana was eating dirt. it seemed quite natural at the time.
trooped off to a bar/club last nite, not with the intent of reminding myself why that’s not my scene. after a lovely tho pricey sex on the beach, the place had worn out its usefulness and its charm. class today — didn’t want to get smashed, didn’t want to flirt with sketchy guys, no room to dance (the place becomes a slow motion mosh pit you have to propel yourself through to escape). came home around midnite.
debating what to do now. read karen blixen in the library? find meself a movie and a place to watch it? finally got my hunger pains for a film soothed by the showing of truffaut’s La Nuit Americaine yesterday in class, albeit at 8:45, which in this country is, like, dawn. oh god, too many women’s magazines. they’re fucking with my thoughts.
today at lunch i returned to my table after a very impressive trip to the bathroom (the trip, as i explained, was the impressive part). you have to walk through door after door.
me: and i’m always apprehensive that the next one i open will have a dead body behind it
andrea: what is it with you and dead bodies?
what indeed.