Had a weird convoluted dream last night in which Charles Bernstein was explaining to me that home craft projects go much better if one makes one's own Elmer's Glue!

I'm packed into a murmuring crowd of people somewhere, perhaps a bar queue. Someone cops a lingering feel/grope of my ass. It is an arousing experience. I turn to find myself alone in a cavernous room, staring at my reflection in a mirror.

I dreamt I was going to do a public reading of my zombie poems and that I stuffed a jump suit with padding, taped a balloon with a marker face where a head should be, slapped a "HI I'm Dead" sticker on the breast pocket and danced with this creature the whole time I performed. Ryan's sculpture is, of course, much more sophisticated than what I dreamt of. But I think I'm smelling zeitgeist.