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10/18/25   
We all scream for iced tea

Dreamin' in Dreamland

by Ray Manatino
bio/email
January 7, 2002
I'm dreamin' a dream of a dream
I once had
about a dream that I had once before

The one where the fish flip and follow
each other
diving deep in the dark down below

The one where I'm swimming
safe and secure
sailing a salt-silent sea

The one where I'm dreaming I'm
dreaming I'm dreaming
and three times I can't wake up

The one where the waves wash
the walls all around me
or they would if I weren't in a meeting right now.


Quote of the Day
“Fortune is a fickle bitch. No, wait… I'm thinking of my wife. That's right, my wife's the fickle bitch. Fortune is some transcendentalist concept.”

-Martoon Romeo
Fortune 500 Cookie
Quick, put these shoes on—walk around in them to get comfortable, if you need to. This week, fasten your seatbelt for the ride of your life. Straight over the goddamn cliff and everything. Sure, when you say a dog talks to you, everybody believes you, but make it a rhesus monkey and all of a sudden you're "crazy." Now here's Trip with the sports.


Try again later.
Top Selling commune Paraphernalia
1.the commune's Book on Tape: Everyone's favorite verbose classic War & Peace printed in tiny type on the non-sticky side of a roll of Scotch tap
2.The "I Sued the commune for Libel and All I Got Was This Lousy Mug" Mug
3."Pin the Paternity Suit on Lil Duncan's Babydaddy" Home Game
4.Boris Utzov Guide of English Slang
5.Ivana Folger-Balzac. Please, somebody take Ivana Folger-Balzac.
Archives
Sunflake
Oh, to be a phantom sunflake resting on the bile. A single, golden, shining sunflake, gurgling in the Nile. An elf's aorta, a unicorn's anus— none could be as sweet. As to be a lonely sunflake munching on a leek. Rainbows tease me, ogres please... (12/24/01)

The Visitors
Snooty bugle-playing burglars Why do you bother me? Go to hell, you naked buglers Cease your melody. Who invited uncooked hamhocks All these pigs I see? Go away, freeloading pork pies Get out my Christmas tree. Get out Santa, get out Elvis Get out... (12/10/01)

Distraction
Fifteen phantom penpoints All under my control I move them deftly, swiftly smearing ink upon a single slice of paper. Sixteen sweatered titties Distracting me so simply from my fifteen phantom penpoints Nothing worthwhile written, once... (11/26/01)

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