My dreams are far more hardcore than I.

What I forgot to mention in the midst of all the marathon stuff is that I was actually babysat, back in the day, by the one and only Francie LaRue. She was an Olympic gold medalist rather late for a runner if I recall; that is, she was in her late 30s. Dad knows the specifics. If you look her up you’ll see that she’s still competing.

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Had this crazy dream that I woke up in what I called a “flophouse.” It was in Austin, a building where $10 would get you a room for the night. Not a CLEAN room, but a room. I remember thinking it was as filthy and decrepit as something Charles Bukowski would have written about. Dirty, stains all over the bed…

It was snowing outside. I peered out the window, and several stories down in the alley I could see sleeping bags and little shanties full of homeless men. A garbage truck was trying to pull through the alley but couldn’t for all the bodies there. Bellowing angrily out the window of that truck was the one and only Lemmy Kilmister.

My dreams are far more hardcore than I.

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Current music: “God Bless the Child” by Billie Holiday.

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I still feel a bit like I’ve been hit by a garbage truck, in fact. But I’ll live.