I'm very tired right now but I was nervous and I was just typing about this to somebody. I had a dream last night that I met Bukowski on a beach and gave him a pork chop (the same one I ate for dinner last night) that was wrapped in gift wrap. I had a dream the night before about a house where I was searching for michael and there were all of these people sleeping in beds, people I knew, ex boyfriends mostly and I kept waking them up and it was the same four rooms over and over again and I kept looking for him but I knew that he wasn't there. At the beginning of the dream we were together then I think I watched him escape through the ceiling and that was how I knew. His body was strange like the idealistic body I have in my mind, only with fleshy pectorals. He is always this iridescent salmon-orange in my dreams.
Maybe I've been smoking too much pot lately.
People, in general, are ugly.
It is really absurd how everyone in Hollywood gets the funding to put out these miraculously stupid books but a writer that actually has something to say can't even get his work out there. It isn't really absurd, it's life; I'm just saying, I just skimmed through this book by Macaulay Culkin who I always loved. From Home Alone to my first vibrator. This stupid fuck got published though? It makes no sense and I have half a mind to burn the book or lift it so no one can read it.
But I won't do that.
I'm turning into Bukowski.
people are ugly. I feel ugly so ugly too.
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