laura and me

I have known Katrijn for a long time now. Many years ago she sent me a surreal email out of the blue. I did not know where she had come from or why she had chosen to write to me of all people, but it was very special thing to receive. I think it’s one of the best things anyone has ever written me. She is from Belgium, and because English is not her first language, she phrased things in a way that I would never think to phrase them. Which is to say that everything she wrote seemed effortlessly dreamy and surreal. I am sure she meant for it to sound at least a little poetic, but it was really beautifully written without feeling affected. Later she would send me handwritten letters on stationary she had got a long time ago when visiting Vienna. She has the most beautiful penmanship . . . you wouldn’t believe it! And I have kept them all in a box in my closet ever since.

All this is to say that she is an amazing person and a good friend of mine. We’ve only met once in person when she came to Oakland, but I’ll see her again in Belgium sometime soon. I said as much on the back of the Christmas card I sent to her and her family, which she tells me is prominently displaced on a shelf in her house as evidenced by the picture above. Wow!

Well: Katrijn, thank you for reaching out to me when you did. I was very lonely back then and it made me feel better to know that there was someone on the other side of the world who thinks many of the things I think and who feels many of the things I feel. I’m glad I know you. I love you forever.

happy birthday dude lol

“see how elastic our stiff prejudices grow when love once comes to bend them”

emma and me at telegraph beer garden in temescal last night

daphne took these for us

mccune and i used to go to the beer garden every week and get free coffee, on account of our friend rachel being the boss there. those were the Old Oakland days i talk about a lot. the place has gotten a lot classier when it had been a dump before, which i preferred, but it’s still just a bunch of picnic beneath a tin roof and right on telegraph avenue, so hey. at the very least, i’m glad it still exists!

if you can spare a few bucks to help with my friend judy’s funeral expenses, i sure would appreciate it

same

(sawdust and tinsel, starring my girlfriend harriet andersson)

my sweet baby sister monty

The other night, maybe the last night I got more than three or four hours of sleep, whenever that was, I had a vivid dream of riding on top of a train. I was sitting crosslegged and someone else, though I don’t know who because I never turned around to see their face, was crouched behind me. We were having a conversation about something and riding along. In the sky I saw two massive flaming red meteorites shoot through the sky, one after the other, and slam into a forest a few miles away. In my dream I knew it was the end of the world but I didn’t feel sad about it. The stranger behind me asked me what I would have wanted before the end, which was imminent, and I said, “One good final breakfast,” and then the dream ended and I woke up covered in sweat.

I have been waking up covered in sweat the whole last week. And although I’m sweaty I’m also freezing under my blankets. I reckon it’s because I’ve only been having stress dreams. I dreamed about being at funeral, and sometimes I dream about this girl I miss . . .

I’ll tell you what: I sure could go for any good news at all. What’s going on? I don’t want much of anything. I’m not greedy or selfish. I guess I just wish I’d stop getting steamrolled every day. I don’t think that is asking so much. I cannot keep living as vessel for misery is all. It is the opposite of what I want for myself and I just can’t get out from under it. I try to put good things out there but often it feels like chucking it into a black hole. Is this an ancestral curse or something? Maybe I’m just unlucky in that way.