I'm in a department store, shopping for shirts. I find this one that is a very dark grey with pinstripes, just like one that in real life, I recently discarded. But the one in the store has an intricate stitched pattern, in a leather color, on the back, which is pretty cool. Just then I'm approached by two women, and looking up, I realize that is is Misha (my first wife) and Jacki (with whom I lived for a while). I don't know why they are together, but we all seem happy to see each other. They don't like the shirt, so I put it back on the rack.

I think I am going to leave with them, but I already picked out some shirts and left them with one of the store employees, and now I can't find anybody to help me.

That night I end up at the apartment of my friend, perhaps Bryan H. It's dark, and we're talking about music. I think I leave momentarily and return, and then I tell this story about The Ramones: How I never really liked them, but my brother Steve (who always seemed to discover the best tunes) had a cassette of them, on which the singer sings in a uniquely growly snarl which I found very innovative. Years later I tracked down that recording and was surprised to notice that it wasn't very growly at all. So I made my own recording of that song that was super growly, like it was in my memory. Then I realize that I'm talking to nobody. I thought my friend was in this chair in a dark corner, but there's nobody there. I get up and wander into the next room, where people are sleeping on couches and mattresses on the floor, including my daughter Amber.