the fish is angry right now, he's all puffed like a cat. d is in bed sleeping the tender sleep of codeine and difficult breathing. i'm trying to bring on the nostalgia, cos i'm feeling brave or something.

that's why i'm here right now.

getting back into the groove of being your own thing again is one part insomnia, one part longing, one part alcohol and music mixed, and two parts smiling. really smiling. i mean, i've really been smiling a lot lately, even about the achey stuff.

there may be more "parts" that i am not aware of.

but i've got these new flannel sheets, and a bunch of girl friends, and some drugs, and old albums and this crazy fish, and shit, i guess i'm laughing inside my brain a little bit.

and someone bought me a $50 bottle of port for chrissake. that doesn't happen too often. oh, and i had this fantastic dream that doesn't sound all that fantastic but you must trust me:

i was pushing a plane around a seaside neighborhood, a huge jet. i was standing behind one wing and pushing this disabled plane toward what I thought was its hangar.

all my friends from graduate school, ex-roommates and boyfriends and all these myriad people spanning my adulthood were sunning on the beach as I pushed the plane past. they asked me to rest, to sit, to stay and have a hard lemonade.

i said uh-uh, i have to get this thing at least to that wire gate over there. so i kept pushing. and the wire fence got very close.

and then i got there, plane in hand.