A few weeks back I had some really intense apocalyptic dreams. This morning I had some more. This time though they were specifically related to a tsunami that hit Long Island (where I grew up) and Manhattan. Actually two separate successive tsunamis. It was pretty crazy, but it would have been crazier had it been more realistic. Particularly odd, Long Island in my dream was no more than maybe 200 yards across. Those of us who survived the first wave on LI created or inhabited some weird structure and started a weird post-apocalyptic community. Most everyone in that community was wiped out in the second wave, except me and a few others. I think it was after that we trekked to Manhattan and lived in the ruins there. At some point, me and a few friends decided that we were going to open a “hot jazz club” in an old abandoned bar in the neighborhood we were living. We decided that sizzling jazz and partying were more important than sulking and worrying about all the bad shit that’d happened. I remember there was this one weird little Japanese man who played the saxophone and carried around samurai swords on his belt. He was a beast. I’m pretty pleased that my subconscious natural reaction to apocalyptic ruin is to get people together to play music.