“Poor sods.” Steve Jones [Jarvis] is falling into a sand pit. Dear Jonesy: Did you read about my dream when a blonde male doctor was chasing me into the upper cubicle in my closet and when I got there, sand was in it and I had nowhere else to go? I kicked it in the MDs face, repeated until I woke up (I was running out of sand and he looked Ukrainian or Russian or Polish–Could have been German. Depends where one draws the line). There are no lines in dreams? One wakes up first. Please find me exceptions: the abyss. Blending ? The unconscious, the subconscious.
JOHN RUBENS is no Mother Teresa. 