My gal and I settled into a swell country cottage and tested out the sparking flames of the stove and were pleased with the smooth transition of clicking to roasting burn from beneath. A sunny hill ran up to a nestling of trees beyond our back yard. A charming afternoon. The evening walk turned wicked as we rounded a weeping willow and discovered metallic men patrolling with creepy grins and steel guns as arms, a literal extension of the word sometimes used to describe weaponry, replacing a limb as a sole function. Storms a brewed and wind devastated trees, we got the hell out of dodge and made our way to an exansive beach in the open distance. We knew it would not shield us from the wind but could rely on the fact that we'd get out and away from the trees which looked as though they were about to snap and thrash. Upon reaching the beach, the sound of roaring waves could hardly drown out the sound and site of a million jack rabbits doing the deed at high speed to one another. Second jack rabbit dream in less than a year.
Dream Log 8.24.09
I have a live reading booked for September 23rd at 7pm for Whiskey Pike: A Bedtime Story for the Drinking Mankind. At Quimbys Bookstore (1854 W. North Avenue). Chicago, IL. Complimentary whiskey shot (for all attendees 21+) in a toast to kick off the reading. Bring your friends and get your bedtime story fix. Free event.