Like this. Just like this the world changes. I ran into Joe Caudillo today. He was one of my best friends for seven years, haven't talked to him in a long time. Suddenly he's a total stranger; this kid who was a permanent installment in my life is now completely different, changed. Don't we all want to go back.

Sleep will chew you up and spit out beautiful, I swear. Somehow the most banal details of life get re-processed through the dream machine into something completely, earth-shakingly amazing.

There's one dream that's stuck with me for over a month now. I was somehow wrapped up in the spiritual manifestation of New York city; a spiraling, twisting crazy place of rusted beams and concrete. Riding in a dilapidated subway car, I see on a wall next to the entrance to a dark tunnel an image etched in spraypaint: the girl from the Les Miserables poster clutching a neon-green Uzi in an expression of strange nobility. I looked up through the pavement to see massive, contorted spires of buildings and an incredible dance of strife, perservearance and death.

And then I was carried into the tunnel, looked at the trash strewn around the car's dilapidated interior and thought "This is where it happens. This is it. This is the city."

I wake up and a month later I'm thinking the coin may have two sides.