2004-05-21 - 11:43 p.m.

In a small town, there is no time, only timelessness. Restless ghosts constantly unburying themselves, and you find yourself looking your mistakes right in the eye -- and people never change, only your regard of them. In a small town, there can be no memories, only regret.

It does not help that I keep dreaming about these ghosts, a drunk whose brains leak out of his ears and nose ("It's nasty!" he says) and a housewife dancing solomnly but with complete indiscretion. (It's absurd! It's ridiculous! It's the incredible dancing housewife!) What a time to begin remembering my dreams again.