Last night, I dreamed we were at an orgy and he freaked out. He freaked out in a calm controlled way, meaning that he disappeared to the bar and never came back, avoiding me the entire night. Of course, the orgy wasn’t that much fun anyway, I had more been putting on a show for him so that he would think that I was interesting.
I wonder what the point of all this is, and what the point of me is. I know I’m smart. I felt my fingers flutter a little before writing that. Is there really any point of bragging to myself? My father and I talked about that briefly. Briefly, while briefly going over archival copies of magazine articles written about his favorite, and one of my (almost capitalized My, and yes, there still is much of that kind of work to do) favorite uncles.