letting it flush out to leave me well again

I looked at some Chicano art yesterday. I was looking for this certain painting I really loved from my Chicano art class when I was a kid. It was of some people in this old-fashioned car floating in space. If you know any painting that matches this description, let me know!

It's cloudy here, and I think it will rain, which is good. Maybe I'll take a walk. We're out of bread. Life without bread it more difficult than life with bread. We are also out of delicious tortillas. I should make some rice. But I can't wash the dishes because there's a can opener stuck in the drain, so I can't get the black rubber thingie that seals the drain in there, in order to fill the sink with soapy water. I was hoping to ask Erik to get his hand in there to somehow remove the can opener, but I keep forgetting to ask.

Last night we went to bed ridiculously early, but still slept to the alarm, but I remember vivid, realistic dreams.

"Run as fast as you can," Erik said. I knew they would catch us. I can't run very fast. The first guy aimed at us and pushed a button. I screamed, but it was only a camera. The second guy? When we were almost to the door, the whole group cut us off. The evil leader looked at Erik and said, "You're my friend. You always do what I want you to." They surrounded us and marched us back.

And a weird buffet where I kept asking if the raviolli was vegetarian, and my relatives were stealing almonds. It was so crowded, and I didn't want Erik and me to get separated, but we did. "Where is he?" I asked my mom. My aunt had a baby, but it didn't belong to her. And someone stole my shoes. I had to walk a long way.

Issue 37 is getting longer and longer. I have some aversion to actually saying, "Okay, it's done now," which I think I should respect. Let the months stretch on and on. Everyone likes longer but me.