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dreamin'

13 july, 1995

Slept on the floor of Cyborganic offices on Ramona street. 4 cloves of garlic swallowed whole before sleep, to ease this cough.
In a wending dorm again. hanging out, looking for love. I want to have swatsex with some swatchick I've been making eye contact with. I bring her back to my room, and talk to her for quite a while about some stupid shit - I running on at the mouth, beating around the bush. She says a viable option is pay her for sex, I find myself trying to make myself out to not need it like that. I realize I've had my eyes closed, if I only had them open, I might have persuaded her with potent looks, as it was, what did I expect if I looked like I was going to sleep?
The DOD (department of defense) is going to be repainting a door - I am sassy to les aspin (?) who comes along to paint it - I didn't know you were familiar with greek policy. the door is about greek policy, being grey repainted.

out of that room, I look up above, I see a large wire/lexan structure with army man hanging climbing off - one of them explains it to me from on high - this is a test site, the army is developing an ear module that will allow you to communicate, and breathe. Someone decides to axe the tower just then, the men are lost as the tower falls, no one on the ground level is shocked.

I moving through a large compound, colby is supposed to be in there, I am racing IMF for the bathroom.

I am looking at my notepad, noticing the handwriting - particularly the difference between these broad circles, and lines. The pen I have been using gives the circles in writing a tactile bubbly quality to them - running my finger over the pages.

in a large split down the middle barn/church performance space, each side has a video screen projector. One side is going to be the grateful dead, both sides are being painted. the other side, dancing with a three legged old russian man and his cute daughter who belives in the same church he does. he is wearing a purple doc martin, a mudcat, and dancing funkier than his daughter. jimi hendrix comes on, woodstock wearing an angry acid expression, I thought they had a cd of howard rheingold, but it turned out to be someone else. I was thinking about trying to get along with the russian's daughter, he has a condescending attitude towards me, or a knowing attitude, he sends me along to the dead side. gk waits here, with his mom and bob merrick, he's supervising the dead section, and he needs a videotape for the new video projector, which is "awesome." I am to return to the other side to retrieve apocalypse now, when I am called awake by Ellen Steuer - quarter to 10.

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