January 2009
Dyslexia
Went and saw a hippie house. Deep in the trees, where the 9 makes its final stop. Beautiful. Full of beautiful girls, cooking, cleaning, showering, tending to the greenhouse. They needed a new roommate. I ask the house mother, in her separate cottage, for a slip of paper, so as to write my number down. And here, I am overcome. 510 keeps coming out 550. Hurry Up! she tells me. Everyone else took...
