1. Married to a conservative Hindu romantic who changes into a misogynistic radical spy in South Africa.

1. As soon as I arrive in South Africa, a sweet Indian man starts to seduce me. Before I know it, we are in a building having a wedding ceremony. We are standing on a big white sheet barefoot. The officiant shows up rarely: mostly it's my fiance talking to me about beautiful circumstances in nature and so on. Then we both are supposed to sing. My wedding party sings my parts for me because I don't know the tradition- the witnesses in the audience also sing. There are little dishes of nuts and herbs that we pour oil over until it overflows onto the white sheet. Then we cover each other in oil, and I unceremoniously finish with his feet. He takes a long time getting to my feet and mirthfully confides that because women take such wonderful care of their feet, it's the most special part of their body. I feel lucky- he is very romantic. Then he starts singing the final song. I'm standing up but my bridal party nudges me to bend down. I bend from the waist like I'm folded in half. The bridal party not so subtly forces me to lay prostrate, not looking at my fiance. I feel embarrassed that I can't get it right. The song is all about how the man will lead and the woman will follow, always kneeling beside her husband in devotion and in the honor of his mercy. I become unsettled at this. When I do look up, my fiance is now some chiseled white guy. The lyrics are sung in colloquial American English- he is not from India or South Africa or wherever I am. I realize that he is a spy and that we're in a Fascist country and that he's saying these things so as not to be called out by the militant powers that be. But I'm still critical of his methods because now the song he's singing is a satire of female subordination, but somehow despite its satire, it still fails to make any posits for the worth of women. I feel ashamed that I was embarrassed to kneel "improperly" and ask myself if I should have knelt at all. When the ceremony is over, many people come to speak with my now husband, but I am not to do that. I half listen, but mostly stare out into the crowd of people who were from every different country, and out through the back windows which look out into lush, gorgeous land. I'm super thrilled to be here even though I'm confused and worried. Am I really married? Can he refuse me exit of this country?

1. Ophelia 2. Doses in New York

1. Out to lunch with someone who says that I should play Ophelia. 
2. I decide to get a ticket to New York. I meet A and he’s on his way to his aunt’s apartment. We’re going to go see a show, but we aren’t in the city. We’re in some seedy city far outside of any of the buroughs of New York. Her apartment is one room with a balcony and she has two cats. His other aunt had taken us there and she says “this is the extent of it for these cats.” I don’t think it’s such a bad deal for two cats, could be worse.The aunt that brought us there leaves, and then many of his friends show up, and also Jamy shows up. She says “How do you like your new phone?!!” I say “I love it!” But for some reason I don’t want anyone else to know.  A nurse comes to the door who has A’s aunt’s morphine. The nurse takes a great deal of time to explain exactly how it works: One digests it but one shouldn’t let it touch their tongue. There’s a high likelihood of regurgitation. She says that the dosage is mix of DNA-specific mucilage from the mother and the father of the patient. Despite this seemingly patient-specific morphine cocktail, as soon as the nurse leaves, A’s aunt discusses how we can all share it. Suddenly, A’s (former?) junky brother and sister are there, and a whole bunch of random scene “friends.” A takes a little bit of this morphine, which worries me, but I do too. I take only a drop or so. A’s aunt is watching carefully, totally unworried, but reminds the party that she does actually “need” a certain amount. She gets hers, and then we leave for this show.  A plops into a wheelchair and one of his friends pushes him. My head is heavy and instead of a narcotic I feel that I’m on a disassociative or a low dose of psychedelics. We keep walking, the whole gang kind of ambling through a street. The wheelchair gag is over. There is a woman who has a stroller shaped like a VW bug or perhaps an Old Rolls Royce, it is white leather and has miniature car wheels with shiny rims. Inside are two little children, and two enormous dogs. She’s blasting pop music from her stroller and stops to watch a tennis match. Suddenly I'm in a car with black leather seats. I look down and see that I had grabbed the the morphine from the dashboard- which though it had always been in a big bottle with a syringe tip (not an IV syringe, but just one that will make the liquid go in a very pointed direction) now it is embossed with “HEROIN” which makes me nervous and makes my hands shake...which makes me more nervous. 

Half remembered 1.5/3, 1. Errands 2. Politician

1. Going shopping. I leave Ross Dress for Less with a nice haul. I'm on my bike and I peddle hard up a hill, as it's starting to rain. I'm in the grass as I crest over a hill I realize that this is a jump! So I'm airborne, then land, safely, no crashes. Phew! But it's starting to rain even harder so at the next house I pull in. All my coworkers from Radiance are there and we're all getting ready to go to sleep. Micha offers Brandy her yoga mat to sleep on. I'm not ready to sleep, I worry I'll be too loud, so I take off again.
2. It's important to get where I need to go that I follow the actions of a politician closely. It is not Condoleeza Rice, but someone like her. This is going to make me a lot of money.