3:35 P.M. Nap, a goddamn dream. A prison yard. There’s a mistake, you say, I’m clever and I’m not supposed to be in here with the rest of the proles. The warden says OK, throw a rock over the top of this half-mile wall and you can leave. Everyone throws hard all day. Your rock clatters back off the wall and hits you in the eye. Well why did the dream have to be a fucking allegory. Why couldn’t it have just been more incongruent shit about hoverboards or that time in China. At least you didn’t get raped.