I Sleep Like A Dead Man. When I Wake Up In The Thin Early-morning Light The Girl Is Lying Curled Up On

I sleep like a dead man. When I wake up in the thin early-morning light the girl is lying curled up on the floor. I touch her arm: “Why are you sleeping here?” She smiles back. “It is all right. I am quite comfortable.” (That is true: lying on the soft sheepskin rug she stretched and yawns, her neat little body not even filling it.) “You were tossing in your sleep, you told me to go away, so I decided I would sleep better here.” “I told you to go away?” “Yes, in your sleep. Don’t be upset.” She climbs into bed beside me. I embrace her with gratitude, without desire. "I would like to sleep here again tonight," I say. She nuzzles my chest. It occurs to me that whatever I want to say to her will be heard with sympathy, with kindness. But what can I possibly say? "Terrible things go on in the night while you and I are asleep"?

J. M. Coetzee, Waiting for the Barbarians

There's sumfink wrong with me. 

Someone please find me a dress like this to wear.  If you could make my hair this consistency, too, that'd be coo.  

Piercing, animals, love. 

Can't I Just Have One Nice One?

In my dreams last night, I was always trying to get to French at 10:30 but never quite getting there. 

For a couple of nights, my dreams have had this meandering quality; I keep trying to get something, I know where it is, for the most part, but something else keeps me away. 

B made an appearance, I ran into him with some of his sports buddies, at exactly the same corner in another dream. This isn't unusual or surprising; all I've been doing is running into him in real life, yesterday, surprisingly, at Hallowed Ground's. 

By now my dreams are beginning to have a logical University of Chicago of their own. 

CI now almost always makes a cameo, although he does not actually appear in any of the dreams as a talking, thinking, feeling person.  Which is funny because that's not the way I think of him at all.  I think of him as thinking, talking, and feeling--just not about me, and if about me, then slightly off, never to my favor. 

What was my point?

J'ai oublié. 

Also important is the distinction between 'besa-me' in Spanish & 'baise-moi' in French.