There is a thin marble slab in the threshold of the bathroom. I'm not sure if my old flat had one, but if it did, it was set deeper than this and was thus less of a threat. This fucking thing is going to kill me, or hurt me bad. Because if I trip, I'm either going to break my neck on the toilet, or sail down the stairs, depending on which way I'm going at the time.
But who gives a shit!
Last night I had a dream that I was beaten to death with a Hawai'ian lap guitar by a Polish performance artist outside of Club Xenon in New York City. The year was 1981 or '82, I think. Probably just a dream. Strictly speaking, I don't know if she killed me, or just beat me senseless. I woke up. Sort of hip and interesting way to go, though. Better than a heart attack.
More later, I gotta move now. My tooth is killing me and I don't have an appointment until Thursday morning.
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