For that matter, I dreamed
For that matter, I dreamed about food last night (which is strange, because, as I mentioned, I’m not going hungry. I spent last night cooking and dining with friends.) But anyway, I was trying to find a farmer’s market, but it started raining, and suddenly I was in London, or it might have been Orvieto. I came home, talking with my roommate (who is not actually my roommate at the moment) about how Draco Malfoy has really changed in character from the last book; he’s gotten noticeably older. But at home there was some sort of market set up all over the stairs and the upper landing. Then I noticed that the people in the middle, making radios, were thin and starved and awfully concentration-camp looking. There was a basket of bread on the table before them, and some rather unappetising ham-and-cheese sandiwches on pumpernickel. They were forbidden to eat, though, by the boss, a big huge fat man who looked like an Evil Overseer. I was infuriated, and took the baskets, and gave them the food. The boss came lumbering up and began to remonstrate with me in an evil and bureaucratic fashion. I was badly scared, because this evil bureaucracy was one that might quite easily have me killed. But I was, if I may quote, as mad as hell and not going to take it any more.
"Stop speaking to me in that way!" snapped I, imperiously (although backing up as I did so). He loomed over me.
Marx seminars this year!
August 1st, 2002 at 9:39 am