a fellow came into the bike room to measure for a storage space, because certain entitled people have more than one space, and some have none. i'm halfway through weak in comparison to dreams. i can't recall most of my dream life but it feels continuous with waking reality. the sacrificed park seems like the deforested forest, even though it was landscaped out of swampland. every place imaginable is a potential sacrifice zone. now i'm imagining the fellows at the top of the conning tower saying, but look on the bright side, ha ha, it's the end of the world anyway.