i wish my mind would jump like a small bean; damn

I just remembered that I had a dream about Bryan the other night. I went to his house in Texas -- I didn't drive and I didn't fly by plane, but I have a vague memory of an aerial view of going under an overpass on the highway and seeing the headlights on the cars glowing.

I got to Bryan's house and soon got the impression that he was rich, as in, he had a pool out back filled with hundred dollar bills and charged admission to old women who wanted to swim in it naked. That wasn't really a detail seen during the dream, but it does the job, since I can't think of a sole adjective to emphasize how goddamn rich he was. Sweet fuck.

Anyway! So yeah, his parents were all, "You seem bored, let's go to the private jet," and I was like, "Sure, yeah."

They brought me back to Minnesota, from what I remember, but the only vivid image I can recall is being in a park with a balloon vendor.

And their private jet was more like a cable car, except there were no cables and it flew.

I'm now going to write a haiku about Bryan. It would be helpful if, at this point, you flipped off all the lights in your home and perhaps lit some scented candles and let some incense burn to enhance the starving-poet-who-is-inspired-by-patterns-in-cottage-cheese atmosphere.

It's hot and humid
Summer is a sweaty man
Give me my HORSEDOG!

And a second one:

You cannot escape
You run but you do not move
Horsedog will follow

No one other than Bryan and Resa will understand. I could explain it, but that would lessen its charm.

I never could write an intelligent haiku. I will explain this phenomena with -- yes, that's right -- another haiku.

Words are my puppets
Writing makes another world
Haiku is a cage

Tonight I'm going to the Japanese lantern festival. I went last year, and for the first hour I was there I couldn't stop grinning. They had fan dancing, among other traditional performances, like with the large drums that make your heartbeat irregular, along with calligraphy booths, trinket booths, and a Japanese garden that you can walk through come nighttime that's peppered with floating lanterns and people hidden in the shadows playing Japanese instruments. Copious heaps of fun are guaranteed to ensue, very much unlike this entry.

I will now end this entry mysteriously, with a fourth haiku.

Spinning wildly
My mind jumps like a small bean
Fuzzy yellow rat