Da Vinci wrote a pretty cool quote once about dreams: “The eye sees a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination awake.”
Well my eyes see insane stuff.
First of all, I’m worried about getting sick. I remembered this morning that I used Lysol on my kitchen counter, getting the copper grime behind the sink handles, and then I forgot to wash my hands after. Which is just great because I ate a subway sandwich (which by the way, of course, tasted funny.) I should be fine, but I’ll let you know.
My dreams are always about working. Isn’t that a form of anxiety? Working in San Fran is cool, I’m right next to a Barnes and Noble, a Starbucks, and a pretty cool mall, but the best part is the art. The undiscovered stuff: the graffitti on the walls and the billboards. Sometimes I make my own stuff (I’ll be posting that stuff soon). That’s my favorite. That’s what keeps me going.
My boss is a really an asshole. He’s bowling ball fat and is always scratching at the meat of his crotch. Yesterday we had this interaction:
Boss: “It stinks in here. You clear the floor drain?”
Me: “Yes.” (scratching my head)
Boss: “Don’t do that. You’ll get your filthy hair everywhere. That shit gets everywhere.”
Me: “I’m wearing a hair net.”
Boss: “I don’t care don’t ever touch your hair next to my fish. Capeshe? (Italian for “understand?”)
Then you know what he did?
He picked his nose.
