Who is Helen Landing? The name is seared into the back of my mind like the retinal burn from a camera flash. Intensely vivid dreams have spun webs in my head the past few nights and the name has stayed with me, beyond post-arousal forgetfulness. Despite this, I cannot remember any details of the dream surrounding the name ? who she was, what she looked like, what my relation to her was ? and it has since echoed in my head like a bad Pat Benetar song.

The other dream I had involved the boyfriend and a tropical resort of some sort, which, after elucidation, resulted in the drawing up of an appropriate itinerary for travel to a tropical destination. I'll write more about this as plans solidify, but we're looking at many of the well-publicized gay resorts in the Caribbean. I've never been to one, and as a result, am a little skeptical as to the exact entailment and anatomy of such purlieu.

Media consumption of late has revolved around habitual web surfing, although I've made a point to read a bit every night and even purchase some new music. I've been exercising at the gym regularly this week, and ? despite lack of sleep ? have been in good order to "get my life back on track" (I hate that cliché, but it conjures the most appropriate visual). All evil forces aside, that will occur, on schedule, at approximately 7:34 p.m. on August 23rd.

Voltaire's "Candide" (or Optimism) has been quite the godsend.

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