From: tony To: Daniel Gould Date: Saturday, November 16, 2002 11:17 PM Subject: dream I go crazy at the airport check-in desk and run away, pelting into the town. In an industrial slum I seek refuge in a third-floor tenement room. The police come after me, charging up the stairs. They recognize me from the bar where I was riding my bicycle on the tables, from the house party where the ocean was electric pink, and screensavers, made of tendril fire, bloomed on the ground like ferns. I take some Elmer's Glue and squirt it on the police as they're coming up the dilapidated stairwell. A helpful woman, with a tone in her voice that suggests she's seen all this before, tells me, "Hey, that's assault, you know." Assault? Carrying a big, black cloth, three cops hit me and I go down, wrapped in the fabric. I wake up in the same room, but the door is barricaded. I try to get it open, and then the guards outside let it open, and there's a kind of customer-service desk out there. "I'd like to get out of here," I say to the Indian man behind the desk. "You have option number one, or option number two. You must write a letter to copper." [it's a trick, it has to be a trick... I'll write a letter to copper and they'll say See, he's crazy, he writes letters to the elements...} "I'm sorry," I say, "but I cannot write a letter to a metal." "Then we will burn you." A fat, Russian-looking woman begins to heat up a soldering iron. __________________________________________________________ Tony Smith, Head Research Fellow, flipLab Research "Ye shall see the truth, yet be unconvinced."