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from dreamland
Aug. 29th, 2006 07:29 am.
I'm in a department store. There's Andy Warhol. "Hi, Andy," I say, to annoy him. He is annoyed and turns away. I think, if it annoys him so much, why does he go around looking like himself? Then I think, isn't he dead?
***
I must have done something wrong in the car. A policeman asks me to drive to a certain place. Instead, I back up about a block, then head down College Avenue and park behind my house. Later, we're out by the car and we hear the car phone ringing. This is not good. We discuss our options and wonder how much time we have before they get through and catch us. Me. Just then, the ringing stops. Contact has been made. We sit and listen as obscure mumbling sounds come from the phone.
I'm in a department store. There's Andy Warhol. "Hi, Andy," I say, to annoy him. He is annoyed and turns away. I think, if it annoys him so much, why does he go around looking like himself? Then I think, isn't he dead?
***
I must have done something wrong in the car. A policeman asks me to drive to a certain place. Instead, I back up about a block, then head down College Avenue and park behind my house. Later, we're out by the car and we hear the car phone ringing. This is not good. We discuss our options and wonder how much time we have before they get through and catch us. Me. Just then, the ringing stops. Contact has been made. We sit and listen as obscure mumbling sounds come from the phone.
