i say : thanks, man.

two more nights of dreams about v.t., my grandmother. that little tiny lady. that dead thing in the ground. it ok for me to make jokes. because its my thing and its my feelings that it will hurt. 

sometimes she is very upset. and it reminds me of when i saw a bird get stuck in the food court of the mall. and the bird was just flying around. and around.  with no where to go. and sometimes its just her. but im not really there. im just watching it all. maybe im dead. i cant intervene. the rest of my family is around and they interact. but me, im somewhere in the air. two nights in a row. i called my dad. he says to chill out.

i have distance in my horizon. and ants in my pants.

and a wall of sound, like phil spector. minus firearms.