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- To the floor and there we shall dance
Three days straight and I was up before the clocks read 9. The strain on the brain is whipping up intense pain. The nights are the same. Lame and late. The sanity is waning. The pain is great.
I'm not sure why, but throwing up on the trains and the stations seems to be the rage of late. In the past month I've seen a junkie throw-up next to the station sign, another two onto the tracks and this morning a drunk in the car. Could it be that the spray from such expulsions, carrying a fine mist of disease might actually be infectious? Perhaps, but then any number of reasons could be found for the unexpected letter in the mail asking me to appoint a time in the next few to undergo an X-ray and blood test for Tuberculosis. Someone had it. Now I may.
That's what AltaVista thinks "Dream a Little Dream" translates into German. I've had—of recent times—a few dreams in where I am able to speak fluent German. A couple even featured a Spanish version. In both instances the players of the visiting Olympic Volleyballers were my targets of conversation. In particular, Anja-Nadin Pietrek, Alain Roca and Angel Dennis.
On the start lists and such, Dennis was spelt "Denis" throughout the entire competition the name was not corrected and yet I know this as so as the one known as Angel Dennis signed my book - for press only - DENNIS.
Thursday, 7 December 2000 - 05:36
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