My head is so full of words today, too full of words. I just sent four people four emails about essentially the same thing, but every email is completely different. I'm just trying to use up all of the words.

I dreamt that I was at a friend's house and left for a moment to go to the store on the other side of the block. It had just gotten dark, and as I turned the far corner I happened to look up and said, "Oh my God." Up in the sky I could clearly see every star of every constellation there is, the whole surface of it was dense and sharp and clear, and it was one of the greatest things I've ever seen. Everything else was so ordinary that it didn't even feel like a dream. Some kids came by on bikes, noticed me looking and then looked up themselves. I turned around and ran back to where I'd come from to tell my friend (it may have been Danger) what was going on. Nothing's ever felt more like an emergency to me than making sure that people saw the sky. Afterward I decided to just walk around all night, looking up and saving it all in my head. Then somehow the dream turned indoors (an emptyish elementary school) and I ran into someone unexpected. At first I was politely friendly, but I got a bit hurtful, and eventually I felt badly and said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be being mean, but I'm just so angry at you." It was honest and quiet and calm and exactly what I want to have happen in real life, and maybe it will. When I woke up I couldn't remember what day it was for a really long time.

See, I had two cups of coffee. I started going to pieces about two sips into my first cup. The fact that I made a second speaks ill of my common sense. What I forget is how coffee caffeine and tea caffeine are nothing like the same to me, how coffee makes me feel like I'm breaking laws and becoming invincible. Michael and Cape Cod teased me over my excitement, and when Francis arrived they warned, "She's had two cups of coffee," and of course he knew exactly what that meant. So, we sang My Lovely Horse and drank whiskey, and they looked for awful strangers (everyone besides us and the bar staff) because Michael said I was, "approaching punch o'clock," and he wanted me to hit someone, but that was never going to happen. Eventually I settled down and everything just got great. Everyone was perfect , either by suddenly appearing in person behind us or by way of sweetly worded messages (no more parenthetical subjects). I just like everyone too much. I have exactly the right friends.

Right now I'm listening to Walking in the Air. It makes my insides feel like a haunted house, everything is creepy and sad and exciting at the same time. It's dark in here and I've got to go out, but due to a miracle of carelessness I'm without an ATM card. The only useful currency I've got is a metro card, a dollar bill on which a skull is drawn over George Washington's face, and a handful of coins. Hooray! I'm still going out, it will be a good chance to practice resourcefulness. I'm going to watch This Old House for the first time in months while I come up with a plan.

It really did feel good. "I'm just so angry at you."