1. Contemplating intricate incursions through folded space/time to finely re-finish every flirtation and conversation in the manner my memory demands.
2. Feeding P. Pan at the expense of the man.
3. O Maw! O Stomach! Y/our insatiable need for supplication and adoration is an aberration – suggestions of ingestion won’t answer questions indigestible throughout the night - besides we ate 2 hours ago - turkey on rye
4. Failing at trying not to masturbate.
5. Riding the Cathode Carousel for a 3rd time around – just in case - this time- I find the gold ring.
6. Blinking my lids must take –like- 38 minutes and the clock keeps on lurching in great fits and starts 1:37, then 2:08, soon a quarter to four and I still haven’t reached the end of the line on this great tangent train to the town of Minutia by way of whistle-stop websites hitherto unenvisioned and points further west.
7. Nothing.
8. Anything.
