Dream of:28 June 1988 "Already Bound Book"
I had been visiting and talking with Weinstein in New York City for quite a while, and finally reached the subject of writing. Weinstein told me he had been writing a book, and finally he withdrew the book to show to me. The book, already bound, was small in size, but thick, and probably had 300-400 pages. Weinstein had somehow been able to write very small on the book's beige pages. The physical plan of the typed words on the page was well executed and Weinstein showed me the straight up and down columns on both sides of the pages. He even showed me that for some reason he had put a dash at the right end of each line of writing. As I leafed through the book and tried to read parts of it, I was quite impressed.
The paragraphs of the book didn't seem to be linked together in any way, and each paragraph seemed to have a completely capitalized word at its beginning, which word was the subject of that paragraph. After looking it over, I asked Weinstein what the subject or theme of the book was, but he seemed unable to tell me. I thought about my book, "How nice it'd be if your book looked like that, and already bound, instead of just, kind of, typed off of a printer, and not put together well yet."
I was surprised by the enormous amount of work which Weinstein had obviously dedicated to the writing of his book. Its well written style reminded me of that of James Joyce.
I was walking around outside and found myself first walking near the railroad tracks in Portsmouth, then on Offnere Street where young children were playing. As I reminisced about myself playing in the streets as a young child, I continued walking until I found myself inside a restaurant. I knew I was supposed to meet Weinstein later, but I thought I might want to eat now. All the tables in the room seemed filled, except one, which I walked to, intending to sit down. But upon pulling out one of the seats and seeing that it had food debris on it, I decided not to sit there.
After I had finally found another seat and had sat down, a waitress walked up and offered me a menu. She began talking about a special meal which the restaurant offered, but to get it, one must join the military service. It even appeared to me that a picture of a soldier was on the front of the menu. I indicated to the waitress that there was no way I would do that. But she seemed to think that joining the military service was a good way to get the special.
I began pondering on how I would feel if I simply came in to the restaurant to order a meal, and ended up joining the military service just to get a better meal. I was sure I would feel bad.
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