What I hate about the fall is the leaves. Raking the leaves and walking in the leaves. Most of the time, there are presents in the leaves, left by the nice neighborhood doggies. I went out to dinner with my sister tonight and on the way back I also found a nice cracked sidewalk underneath the leaves and twisted my ankle. It hurts like hell right now.
Listened to my voice recorder: a homeless woman told me something last week that I thought was, “Thirty-two wolkhammer.”
I didn’t take any notes on the dreams I had last night. I remember some James-Bondy thing, and then something to do with spaghetti in clear containers which seemed more interesting but I still can’t recall what it was.