All the cautionary tales of civilization are spread out in my dreams. Up first: Charles Babbage tried to convince me, just last night, that statistics will help the poor. I really dreamt this. Later I dreamt of acorns. I woke up with the little dog kissing my face and the big dog staring at me.
**
The rocks are big and bad. America. Everyone staggers under monetized fear. All those hopeless baseball hats. Everyone needs a service animal.
**
Ptolemaic America—what they mean by exceptionalism. We’re at the center. This is of course ridiculous. It makes my lips numb from mumbling.
**
I also mumble in my sleep. Good morning Emily Dickinson. Happy birthday.
Planet of the Blind 