our local glass factory is simply the beach during thunderstorms

walden freeman

erin,
i was parked by the rocks again last night and i dozed off and dreamed about a dozen snakes being freed by some maniac in a top hat. they slithered out of a burlap sack and spread through the town and wound up in houses, charmed i suppose by the loud speaker systems. of course many families panicked and i found them hiding in the library reading about our pasts in newspapers from days and even weeks ago. it's funny how we forget where we came from: in this case our own homes. nobody ever left this place quicker than i did and it wasn't because of bad fucking dreams.

love,
jimmy