Dream in which an empty life is laid out before me. This person lives in a hotel room and puts together dog puzzles. The place is tidy, but there's nothing else here besides the dog puzzles.
Earlier, ice cube and a man in a pink spandex suit were shown robbing a house. I'm walking down the street now and it hits me: a single god universe makes sense of this. It's not that he's a negligent parent, he just doesn't have more than a few seconds to spare for each of us. He's that one little thing that makes your otherwise awful day.
A third world child in a long tshirt runs down the street crying from sheer happiness.
On the 71 line from Market to Haight there's a bum chuckling to himself in the back. Another one in a San Fran State University beanie shuffles on and sits down next to me, wrapped in a blanket. After a few stops, he starts nipping off a bottle, and after a few more he's loosened up: "The only difference between Mecca Godzilla and Godzilla...is that Mecca Godzilla...is a machine."