Snot.

S My head is full of snot.
S There was a punk rock band practising in my basement, so I left and went to the public library… in Dartmouth.
S Seven or eight years ago, I was playing guitar and I threw myself down on the stage and landed on my face.
S When I was a little kid, I wasn’t afraid of heights.
S Snot is made out of bacteria and bacterial waste.
S When you were in Grade Four, there was a little kid in your class who always ran around with a little booger hanging out of his nose.
S What goes up your nose at 200 kilometers an hour? A Lambourgreenie.
S I hadn’t remembered a dream in weeks.
S Some people would rather die than give a speech.
S Last night I went to bed thinking that I might be interested in finding a new profession. This morning I woke up and my ears hurt.
S Two of my roommates had nasty colds on consecutive weeks. Maybe I was a little smug. You guys are sick–I never get sick.
S They x-rayed me at the hospital and informed me that my nose was not broken. However, the cartilage is bent to one side.
S During the long walks to work I would listen to Shakespeare’s Macbeth on headphones.
S The Dartmouth library kicks ass over the main Halifax branch. It is a place of immense calm.
S I fell backwards off a stepladder at the age of twelve.
S How do you make your Kleenex dance? Put a little boogie in it.
S Someone posted to tell me I should see a movie called Waking Life.
S Perhaps all fantasies are cliches.
S I was broke and desperate when I took the job. I worked nights and slept all day in a walk-in closet.
S “There’s a guy here who looks just like you.” He did, too. I met him. We didn’t really have much in common other than that.
S Halfway across the bridge, I got off my bike but the vibration of the pavement beneath my feet was too unsettling.
S I read about sleep disorders at the Dartmouth library.
S American Beauty and Fight Club both have scenes in which the guy outwits his boss and leaves the office triumphantly with a salary in return for not working.
S (Q: Fantasy?)
S I have a little reservoir now, at the tip of my right nostril. Snot collects there.
S “Macbeth does murder sleep! …”
S I walked into the living room today, and noticed that my roommate had piled three movies on top of the VCR: Fight Club, American Beauty and Waking Life.
S “Make it new,” said Ezra Pound.
S They put electrodes on my chest to monitor my heart rate throughout the day.
S I like to sleep alone, because I would be embarrassed if someone heard me snoring.
S It’s a bad cold. It makes your arms and legs feel sore.
S My childhood bedroom contains many trophies from oratorical contests.
S I sat down and watched Waking Life.
S After I finished talking to her, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. “Ahh, damn… my perma-snot.”
S There is nothing that genetically predisposes you to recognize a cliche. But when you see it again, elsewhere, you will feel a secret shame at having used it.
S “A deviated septum may cause the airway to become blocked.”
S Lucid dreaming was the topic.
S “Maybe you have an ear infection.” “An ear infection? What the hell is that all about?”
S “Judges, fellow competitors and honoured guests.”
S Should you try to kill your own fantasies?
S I stayed at the library until it closed.
S While I was in midair, in free-fall, it’s as if a white light went off and something fused in my brain.
S “…Macbeth shall sleep no more.”
S What did I mean when I wrote “I Took The Dead Man’s Name”?
S Last time I went to the doctor, it was for tendinitis.
S I made it to the provincial finals. There was a guy in the audience who looked like me.
S “Thank you.”