It bothers me that I remember so little of my dreams these days. Their impossible images and loopy logic have become delicate nocturnal flowers that rush to wilt and dissolve in the light of day, leaving only arcane traces on the landscape of my memory. It's disturbing and I'm determined to change this. I'm not sure how or even why, but I'm determined.  

I want translucence, not transparency. (Or is it the other way around? I forget.) 

Last night I talked to Basque and rearranged my CDs. I've run out of space again. 

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I have a nagging suspicion that everyone is lost.