Thursday, November 29, 2012


Nostalgic vision of a lifeguard station
in Newport Beach
I decided yesterday that anyone who complains about the weather in San Francisco doesn't get out enough. (Go to New York. Go to Seattle!) On the other hand it's a bit rainy and colder here than I've been in a while. For the last two days, I've stayed up watching The Walking Dead, which I can't even recommend, and staying in bed in the morning. I hope it's a phase. I need to work on my book, which I am doing right now. I do not know how long I have to work on it.

Not unrelated, probably, to what I was pondering in my last post, I had a very strong dream last night about my first husband Michael. An influence in the dream must have been Patti Smith's memoir Just Kids, which ended with death and AIDS. Michael and I were young, in a relationship, and he found out he had AIDS. The only thing about it I really remember is crying, and begging him not to die. In non-dream life, this is not something I would do. It's more human in some way, more unrestrained.

It's funny lately how in dreams I have so much love for him, more than I ever loved him in person. What's the deal? Is it some early part of myself? Am I dropping the jadedness that came from that relationship? Am I begging myself not to die?

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