A couple of graphic dreams last night, involving someone sitting in the chair behind me who wouldn’t stop gouging their hand and fingers into my shoulder, and a telling spectacle of vulgar ‘business’ performed by a shifty group in a back room without any consideration for who might walk in. I’m assuming I’ve been worrying or starting to realize the real or ‘reality-based’ nature of ‘small businesses’ (the code phrase my dream inventory conjured up) and recent stint(s). The phrase ‘grain of salt’ associates a kind of scar tissue.
October 05, 2006
