I've never been seasick. I know, however, that seasickness is terrible. I've seen people seasick. Friends, you know. It's a miserable thing that folds you over the side of the boat, heaving and dizzy. I play with seasickness sometimes. Imagining that it's got me, that I'm beginning to feel that heaviness in my throat and that uneasy lurching in my belly. And then for a moment, maybe I really am seasick. Maybe. But I'll never know, because the experiment ends there. I stop imagining, and just like that I stop being sick.

Christmas Eve I meet up with Charles and his pretty girlfriend Cassy. We eat bread, hummus and salad at their new home, drink wine and talk. Charles leaps in the pool. Their roommates' little girl is crazy excited about her presents. She's being cleverly distracted as her brightly wrapped gifts are shuttled from their various hiding spots to their rightful home beneath the evergreen.

I'm living in a house with four roommates. One is Matt. He and another are meth addicts. The other has been missing for some time. Some other people show up at our door to report our other roommate is squatting in a nearby home. He's started a campfire indoors, they report, and is in danger of burning the place down. We tell them that he's been doing meth for some time, and has become unpredictable.

There are some manner of talks being held which I and others are attending. David is around and is talking about a sort of platonic legal union for bringing two people's aims together. He is married, or engaged, anyway, but is planning on this sort of union with another woman.

There is a girl, Katy, sitting next to me. Her leg is touching mine and I am consciously creating contact. She's talking about traveling smart in the Caribbean. How not to appear rich, lost, etc. It is all basic stuff.

At the old home of Ron and Danita Bowman in Williamsburg. I'm out in the yard, where there are ghosts about. They are invisible but pushing on me, so that when I lift my foot to adjust a shoe, I keep missing my foot with my hand.

In the garage I collect some food to make before entering, talking with Brad. A can of tomato soup, then some hunks of cheese and bread ends. I ask Brad if his family prefers not to eat the heels of the bread, thinking I'll choose those.

Shaving in front of a bathroom mirror. I have short hair. Carlos, the new boyfriend of my ex is there, getting dressed. He has breasts, is tall and skinny. I try to tell him, somewhat bitterly, that there is no bitterness between us.

Earlier was with my sister. She had texted Dehra to come and meet us at an ice skating rink that was closed. Dehra couldn't make it. Later we send another invite, to which she agrees.

Watch and act in a strange, melodramatic production about broken family units. It's weird and scary. People where masks which are unemotional caricatures of themselves.

At one point a drunk grandfather is clambering about behind a thirty-something woman who is playing a little girl. The grandfather promised the little girl they would go swimming if she let him watch her change. She becomes creeped out at the last minute, and he complains he only saw her top nakedness.

Living in a huge hotel in a Vegas sized building. It's complete with gyms and casinos, showrooms and more. I begin dating a girl who seems a bit disinterested. We spend some time together, and hen she disappears.

I wander the building. It's huge like a small city, and there's plenty to do. I fly down some flights of steps, jump out over them then am pulled down by gravity at an angle so that I skim just over the stairs. I keep checking back at the girl's apartment but she is never home.

When I finally see her, she doesn't want to see me anymore.

In a bookstore living above the rafters on the second level, not really living just there. June, the owner, is ill. As she leaves I come down to tell her I've selected a rug to buy. She's been sick ever since managing this store, it seems like. She leaves.

I descend again to select a book. The one book room is super crowded. I'm wearing glasses that get foggy because it's so crowded. I take them off and continue browsing before a King Arthur section. There is a shower and many people, hippies mostly, are showering.