Spiderman number 3423

last night in a dream to a man i said "i like to experience things alone." we were walking through a crowd, the newest Spiderman movie just out, Spiderman number 3423. i told him i hadn't seen any of them. but one day i will watch them all, in my own time, alone.


i need to come out of my shell, i thought, this morning awake with a book in my hands. 4 hours of sleep. 4 GODDAMNED HOURS OF SLEEP? did the hours of intoxication work itself into the equation as part of sleep, as nonawakenness (make up your own words, why the fear!) trickery. resting is memorable, as in there are no memories and this complete lack of, is remembered as strange yet nice. soft. soft like skin. not all skin. not like my hands. i was born with hands already been in use for a thousand years. i was born with such deep indentations and so many lines i am afraid to go face a palm reader. she would laugh, then become bewildered. she will tell me "i am not fond of 10000000 page long stories." and i would know from her face she was telling the truth. this woman would burn pages of all the greatest books ever written (and still to come) to keep warm in the coldest winter, instead of letting words already scorching red-hot on the pages fuel the very furnace inside of her. she would still demand the ten dollars, and a tip. a true clairvoyant. she knows i am a sucker, the one sentence she did peak said so (explains her laughter.) she 20 dollars richer, i, still too far from understanding my very own hands.


the callouses come and go. they shift from one place to another. jumps over one finger tip in the midst of my sleep that i wake up confused, 'but i thought...' one day i am a worker, another an artist. sometimes within the same day this shift occurs. these are the days when my callouses dance and trade places. over-stimulated and unhappy staying still. i find unfamiliar marks, bumps on my body and i think it's my body trying to play tricks on me. one day i may wake up in a completely new body but the same mind. which is i? the body or the mind? i would have to choose to live as myself but never recognize the face in the mirror, or to become someone new. it is easier to accept things so unacceptable when they happen slowly over time and not fast like a revolution, an overthrow over night. in the dream there were geese shitting everywhere flying above us. even deafeningly loud noises from a group of identical little children could not frighten them.