I dreamt that Laurie Anderson was singing one of my songs (entitled “63”). She sounded surprisingly bad at it, while I was expecting the song was perfect for her. At one point, she seemed to be mocking the lyrics. And I thought, “how disappointing.” Perhaps the dream reflected my own disappointment when I looked at a few pieces of my writing from last year … writing that I thought might have potential to transform into something else. But the writing was so flat and monotonous. I had higher hopes that are now dashed.

Perhaps my writing has become a good practice for typing. Nothing more. Nothing less. And if I could not type, I could not work. And if I cannot work, destitution awaits. If destitution awaits, I should not fear it, but embrace it. And then politely walk away.