Fog Horn


I awoke this morning for the first time in San Francisco feeling a little scared.  I lay for a long time in the darkness listening to the wind chimes and the dirge of the fog horns.

I dreamt last night that I was being chased by a man on a motorcycle.  It was dusk.  I was in a moving truck and I pulled off the road into a snowy field.  I climbed out and dove head long into the snow and I buried myself many feet below except that I closed myself in entirely and then I could no longer move.  I could no longer breathe.

I read last night about competing methods of rt and was reminded again that this is no child’s play.  This shit is something that under normal circumstances one tries to avoid.  How could I so willfully and with relatively little forethought have subjected myself to it?  I’ve probably spent more time deliberating over whether to purchase a particular car.

Last night I also cruised through message board posts from people with questions who were undergoing similar treatment.  Call it bad popcorn.  There is so much body wreckage minor and major in this mine field – I don’t want to tread it.  Except that I am.  I awaken right in the middle of it.

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2 thoughts on “Fog Horn

    • George is a groovy guy I’m getting to know here. He’s also a mole working for the darkside: Checks in each day with Blue Shield of CA and negotiates drug prices with Big Pharma. I’d like to sit in one day and just watch – I imagine something out of the Sopranos – each day ending with one of the bad guys getting his head getting kicked in.

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