I take the train to to the show. My mind is quiet as the watching eyes of the other passengers. I arrive to a room full of strangers. I do not talk to anyone, no one knows me. They consider me as a disturbance. I am high in the room between acts and think that no one can see me. I am nestled in the rafters, just below never-ending ceilings.

I fly into someone’s water glass.

Sometimes rooms grow so quiet I can hear the floorboards slowly splitting. Or is the foundation of the building? The South Shore of Boston splitting off into the ocean?

The music that is coming from the speakers is like a drug, an anesthetic. Afterward everything falls into place. The cash and tragedy is gobbled up into one specific nesting place.

I fall asleep and wake up in the morning with amnesia. & I Think that it is beautiful.