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.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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