Once upon a time I dreamt that God was a drop of water hovering slightly right above my palm.  When I tried to contemplate the drop, I found in my mind that I could picture the entire ocean as drops, but it was so vast, and innumerable, and when I tried even harder to reach some sort of understanding, in that greatness — I found God.  I swear this was my vision.  It was one of those wakey-wakey dreams.  All funky and shifting.  I had met a man named Gabriel, and in my memory I struggled to tell Gabriel about my vision.  This was my first, but not my only, vision of God.  (I had already had my first in college, and even though I yearn to travel toward the day when that vision becomes a reality, I know that it will take my entire life until I get there.)

I am going to start writing something that is indistinguishable between fiction and memoir.  It’s going to be called a fictoir.  or a memovel.  No, I like fictoir better.  Wait, how about nemoir?  Hmmm…I kind of like the sound of that.  It sounds a little bit like noir.  You get the idea.  I think it’ll be awesome.  It’ll be like my friend Koye from VONA said — I’m going to tell you — I’m going to show you what I’m going to write.  I’m so busy telling you, yeah, about what it is that I’m going to write, that I’ve stopped writing.  Isn’t that the best?

Well, blargh.  it’s the weekend after all, and I am in Santa Monica, near the sunset, about to write something really fucking beautiful.  So eat your heart out!


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