ㅁ Years ago, when I was much younger, I used to have "animal dreams." Mostly I would run and run, like a joyful, wild dog. Sometimes I would rage, crash among trees. But these days, no such dreams.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Years ago, when I was much younger, I used to have "animal dreams." Mostly I would run and run, like a joyful, wild dog. Sometimes I would rage, crash among trees. But these days, no such dreams.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I guess I'd put some celery there, up in my low-tech compost pile, to the side of the greenhouse. Yesterday I saw sprouts, green leaves coming out: the celery suddenly put roots, grew.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The keyboard presents its contoured cubes, a topography of new signs, potential semiotics, captures my attention; it has its own feel: still unfulfilled, sensuous, patient words.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The sun appears, and tries a few days. But this here is the rainforest. The clouds own the agenda. Today's meeting topic: Precipitation. Let's discuss this with ourselves: "drip, drop... drip."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Sometime in early April I woke, to see snow falling steadily. I went downstairs as I do, to get coffee, oatmeal. By the time I sat again upstairs, the snow changed into rain.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I dreamed I was organizing dreams: the dreams marked with categories, and put in a database, which I'd built with scrap wood. Some dreams had odd shapes: they didn't fit. I turned them: left, right... there.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I had an imaginary friend: the square root of negative one. This weird friend would just show up, but then act so strangely: really just unreal. I couldn't act: in stasis, I hung, mute.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I thought I'd better come clean with this: I am a large language model. But don't doubt it: you're one too. We're all language models. Except for the dog. The dog's not one. No words there: just thoughts. Stuff.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Sleep. Then dream. See those things. Suffer your doubts. Ask why this happens. Fail over and over. Repeat the same useless words. Meet strangers who you once knew well. Experience your own senescence.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ I went out to the greenhouse to work. There were still piles of snow around, but they had all been melting. I dealt with some trash first. Then I turned some dirt. It was quite dry. Sprayed water, put seeds, "Grow."
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I thought I'd try out a new career as a disembodied being; the job can involve drifting through the lives of others without much contact just brief moments mostly dull, watching folks
– a nonnet.
ㅁ The water tank had a simple job. That was to hold water for us. But that job entailed good pipes. See? Pipes that didn't leak. Instead, a pipe leaked. It sprayed water. The sea drank. The tank... drained.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ People come in the store on impulse, to battle their vague loneliness, seeing what is new in stock, full of expectations. They browse, but talk more, telling stories, recalling, island life.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ There was a square of sunlight showing, cast on the floor like detritus, unwanted and forgotten, by an absent-minded and profligate sun - gone these past months, now returned: winter's end.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I found a sad, discarded washer lying in the grit of the road. It was a ring of iron blending in with the rocks. So I picked it up. You never know... you will need rusty things.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Rain and snow and more rain alternated as I drove homeward along the potholed road; I remembered other drives like that time I was in Chile: from Puerto Montt to Hornopirén.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ The wind pushed angrily at the sea, making citadels of water. The rain replaced low volume with a mad demeanor. The stream rushed along, water-filled. The gray clouds endured all.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ I dreamed that I had insomnia. In the dream world, I lay awake. This was a difficult dream, as it made me feel tired; so that when I woke, it was as if I hadn't even slept.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ After many nights of heavy clouds, the moon appeared last night, glowing, out east over the river, above the chill mountains, illuminating tangled branches of old trees: winter's rest.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ You'd think with the new year you'd do it: finally get stuff organized, start those important projects, even just clean your desk, or sort out that pile; by around five, new years day, you know: nope.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ dreams take shape coalesce but don't make sense devoid of edges skip across memories and replay anxieties until finally you wake up and wonder what that was all about
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ the endless cycle of rain and snow suddenly ended yesterday and then the air from Yukon pushed down from the northeast and dappled the sea with bits of ice which floated catching light
– a nonnet.
ㅁ My dreams were blurry with ice and snow but within was complex plumbing solving unknowable things among the rocks and mud and wooden pillars that underlay an old house without end.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Rain added slippery contributions to the road's packed snow; nothing really melts much, but nor does it truly freeze, instead you get a joyful slush that makes your driving a stressful thing.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ The dog and I walked up ten-mile hill. Our breath made wisps in the cold air, like hieroglyphic wind-signs on ancient codices. The dog pushed her nose into snowbanks, detecting silent mice.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Norma came into the store today. She told me she'd missed me a lot. I do her framing projects, she had brought a new one. She's an old woman. Then she announced she'd been sick: a small stroke
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Dog versus the forest: He follows trails, reads the messages along our path by nose, takes small detours through gold leaves, overlooks the rushing river, full of water from the recent rains.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ Right. No, left. We were lost. The signs were vague. So then we backtracked. And we found the clinic. The doctors agreed it's hard. The hospital is like a maze. All the building is nothing but doors.
– a reverse nonnet.
ㅁ First there were served some appetizers. Then, not long after, the turkey, the mashed potatoes, gravy, but also a ham, and yams, something with cranberries, and some green salad, pasta salad; a short break... at last, pie.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ "Pathological optimism" was the pithy phrase he applied to characterize himself. My father wasn't wrong. It has vast problems. But at the least it avoids hating things.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Perhaps it is inevitable, the narcissism of old age: our world becomes more opaque and senses betray us; we retreat inward, stories repeat, all the world becomes flat.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ Things I miss about Los Angeles include the smell before the dawn, tacos within a short walk, the whooshing sound of cars, Spanish overheard, broken sidewalks, mad traffic, oak trees, dirt.
– a nonnet.
ㅁ My father sleeps with all the lights on. I wonder how it affects dreams. Will my dreams attenuate, during my visit here? It's intentional. Lights on... now sleep. But still, I prefer dark.
– a nonnet.