This morning I woke up with the sensation, fueled by injudicious ingestion of various chemicals last night, that my head was balanced precariously on my shoulders, unattached by any of the usual things like neck and spinal cord, and that any sudden movement would send my head toppling to the floor, where it would roll across the linoleum and come to rest underneath the kitchen table, covered in dust and crumbs and grit (I’m not very conscientious about cleaning floors.) And from under the table my head would watch my body stumbling into counters, knocking unwashed dishes onto the floor, and shout “I’m over here, you moron!” and then realize that the instruments necessary to receive this message were in his possession. Then after a few days neighbors would report the commotion to the authorities, and the authorities would enter and say “Holy cow! An overweight headless intruder!” and my head would shout from underneath the kitchen table, from which prison it had been vainly trying to escape by batting its eyelashes furiously, “Down here, you idiots! I’m under the table, you fucking halfwits!” And one of the authorities would say, “Holy cow! It’s not headless, it’s got an invisible head! And it’s a really good ventriloquist, too!” And another authority would add “And what an invisible mouth this one has on him!” That’s how I feel this morning.