31.08.06 - 12:00 a.m.

in retrospect, in the theater of my mind's eye, dreams play back on the screen at a drive-in: slightly out of focus, far away and tinny-sounding. last night's was an exception, clear and bright like high resolution, like five thousand dollars. people on guerneys in hospital gowns wearing rubber halloween masks of their faces in adolescence, in their twenties, at their prime. an orderly injected each, one by one, with a liquid death in a glass syringe, big and cartoony. old fashioned. they shrieked and moaned and as their pain came out of them in sound they pulled the masks down over their faces to hide the grimaces like toe tags marking the end of life.
i woke up alone in bed and wished i wasn't. a rare feeling.

i blame v for vendetta
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the project museum

the revolution will be catalogued

this american life

the library of congress

i used to believe







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