i enter a room with bare white walls.  there is a conference table and a group of fat white southern men in suits.  they tell me to get out.  there’s some kind of conspiracy.  i’m supposed to cause a distraction? someone else will cause the distraction? but someone will be killed for the sake of insider trading and Oreos will have a new board member.
filming david bowie in bruce lee’s yellow tracksuit.  he’s obviously sick and needs the occasional break, but he’s not a bad martial arts dancer. he fights clones of himself (mannequins) on the fire escape until he can’t do it anymore. we wrap it up for the night and i go inside. in the apartment my little sister is there but only the light above the stove is on. one side of the apartment is floor to ceiling windows and the sky is the blue of just-missed twilight.  i’ve received another mission.  i have to take the poison off of the grass.  there are squares of sod on the floor in two rows.  on top of some of these squares are other squares of mirrored gelatin.  these mirrored squares bend and jiggle and hop as if being shocked. as if they are gleefully stamping the life out of the grass.  there are electric hisses when areas of the gelatin-y things come back into contact with the sod.  i feel like this is a trap of some sort.  if i pick them up they will turn into liquid or sting me like jellyfish or something.  i watch them carefully for a very long time.  they are dying.  their hops become shivers, the hisses slight pops.  they will solidify into slabs of bluish mirrored stone and they make me think of my chunk of galena.  when they are completely still and the charge is dead, i will put on rubber gloves and stack them in a bag to report the mission has been accomplished.