Dreamed I was drumming. “Well, fuck me,” I thought, as the song started and I began tapping my sporks on the table frantically. “I have no sense of rhythm. How the hell did I get here?”
Woke up to a nosebleed from the stress of the dream. Little butterflies of blood now fluttering around on tissues in my trash. “Well, fuck me,” I think, as I stare at my half-completed Ginsberg paper. “I have no sense of the Beats. How the hell did I get here?”