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July 12, 2004

Maybe twenty or so police cars drove up 8th avenue. And somebody in the street just said “they are going to screw in a light bulb.” The rain is not too heavy. The night is not too dark. My face must have looked grim enough for the guy on the corner not to ask me for money but just to wish me a good evening.
The window open, the street is half here on the bed with me. the tires make a sound as if they were pulling off a band aid of the asphalt.
It is a good time to just call it a day. I will now turn off the lights and imagine what it would be like if I did not know that it is a bus outside or a train, or even that it is raining. What if each one of the sounds were a completely new a very first time event. Will I be able to imagine unshapely gigantic machines? Will the soundtrack call for animals? Maybe there will be some major tectonic movement? Enough for now. Sleep. (as a name. not as a command.)

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