“I woke up at 5, there were no planes. There was no there to take them to.”

I woke up at 7, as I was reading Angelo’s status in that dream I thought: “Angelo would not be that specific.”

At a Radical Abacus party, later, I told Angelo his status, standing on extension chords, a morphing group curating the Spotify playlist.

“What is your favorite food?” Asked Jamie.

I said: “Whatever is for dinner… or any meal… that excludes animal suffering/environmental detriment… on semi-subjective scales… and has leafs on it… and sauce… Let me get back to you…”

Throughout the night I heard the question asked of others:

– “Pizza.”

– “Sushi.”

– “Sushi.”

– “Pizza.”

– “Pizza.”

Bea: “Some vegetable-based dish that is in season.”

Bea’s party question: “What is your favorite love song?”

Me: The live version of Heartbeats by The Knife and No Summer 4 U by OOooOOoo.

The Knife was played, dice was played, we sat by the bonfire, on the trampoline, up the wall. Old-new good-old days.