Backlog: Dream 12/29/2009

Julie and I are in the upstairs of my old house in West Oakland-- it's more like an attic than a living space and the house is rickety and falling apart. A storm is happening outside-- very dark and thunderous. There are large broken out chunks in the roof so that the lightning and rain fill the air around us. The lights in the ceiling are old long florescent, swinging from chains. The lights flash like lightning every time the thunder roars above us. I am terrified but Julie is acting like everything is normal and fine. She stands in the corner of the room, looking calmly though a pile of old clothes.

My telephone is ringing. I am looking around, but can't find it. The rings get louder and then sort of muffle out. Finally, I open the closet door and find my phone hanging on a string attached to a clothes-hanger. I grab it and answer. The person on the other end is Jonathan Lovecchio. He sounds drunk or depressed and his voice is very deep. The reception is very staticcy and the lights are shaking badly at this point. The house seems to be rocking. Jonathan is trying to ask me a question, but I cannot make out what he is saying. Finally, I understand that he is trying to ask me to see a movie with him. ..."A great, fiery action flick at 4:15 sharp."... I agree and the phone cuts out. But then I remember that I have a ton of stuff to do today and will have to cancel, but can not get back in touch with him.

Scene 2-- Jonathan and an few guys are in the kitchen of someone's apartment in a large city-- maybe New York. All of his friends are very nerdy, like movie-nerdy with think bifocals and acne; and they all look very young. They are very drunk, pouring bottles of liquor in large red plastic cups. One of the guys wears a hat like the kid from Where the Wild Things Are.

march forth in madness

the past few weeks have been emotionally draining, telling, and often just plain sad. on top of a bit of an emotional break-down due to weeks of zero energy (thanks to a long-lasting Common Cold... blahhh... i know that sounds lame):

1. i finally ended a relationship that has been gasping for breath/death for quite some time. its end was quite immature and shallow, but that's no surprise, considering... . it's kind of a relief to be done with something that seemed so fake and unwanted for such a long time. but i also feel a little disturbed considering a dream i had about her shortly thereafter... a very violent and demented dream. i woke up telling myself that i could never tell anyone about the dream, it was was THAT horrible. --zipped lips--

2. my dad turned 59, which is a little bit startling

3. the Japanese earthquake/radiation scare (speaks for itself)

4. and an old high school friend left this earth. Kenny had a fatal heart attack at the age of 30. he was always an easy-going, funny, and positive person and friend. something like this is always a shock. sad, to say the least.


The moon is beautiful tonight and the sky sparks with lightning and raindrops. eerily romantic. eerily sad.

like a monkey bird or vice versa

my day is going backwards and i feel like i'm on bad speed. that's all i can say right now.

falling

above

composed

You are a part of me

a part that I left starving
skinny
competing
depleted

You are the endless void of nothing at all

You are the endless desire to have no end

to be something other than

You make me

feel like a clown

You make me

tear all this shit down
stomp to the ground
burn to the center
flood like November

be what I never wanted you to see

Here we are :

restless
hopeless

hopeful
boastful

solitary

lonely

singled out

tossed about

settled down

til we drown

til we drown

til we drown

Backlog: Dream 12/24/2001

I was recently reunited with a Dream Journal that I had kept several years ago and had completely forgotten about. It contains only dreams that I had from November-December 2001, but there is documentation of at least one dream a night during that time frame. I wish I could remember and/or have time to record my dreams like I did then!
Looking through this old journal is both intriguing and eerie.
The following dream stands out, in particular, because a small part of it is a little like a real-life experience I had just recently in 2010, concerning a homeless man and a handful of small figurines. I wonder if the man in my dream was the same man I met a few months ago. it's a nice thought.

--------------------------------
Dec. 24, 2001

Walking down the driveway at my parents' house to catch the school bus, I find eleven small charcoal figurines in the gravel. Most of the figurines are in human form, but one is block form; hollow on the inside with a carved out top and small hole in the center of the bottom. The hole is filled with what looks like dried cum-- yellow glue?
Someone is there with me. This is very curious. The black of the charcoal rubs off onto the palms of my hands.
I see the yellow of the school bus through the trees. We run to the cedar tree at the end of the driveway to hide the figurines.
In my head I see an old homeless man searching for the figurines.

9 is today's lucky #

This morning a friend told me that things haven't been going well for him lately, but that they suddenly seem to be a little better today. So I thought about it and realized that today, 2/16, ultimately equals 9.

So today's philosophy is that 9 is the number in which things start to turn around for the better. It's the end of the row.... it's last in a series before it all goes back to the beginning. So it must be the horizon of something new or different or at least recharged. But the turn-around can't happen without a little extra effort. I think this effort must have to be physical (ie applying for jobs or doing something special to show someone that you care about them), but a part of me also wants to say that it can be a simple belief that things WILL get better. Positive thought or faith, if you will, can very well be a life-changer. Believe it.

Kevin, the piss cat

This apartment once wreaked to high hell with the stench of cat piss. I can't blame it all on Kevin, but he definitely contributed. Apparently during the renovation of this place, which happened during a few months before we moved in, the landlords left the deck door open (probably to air the place of paint fumes, cat piss fumes, etc) and Kevin would come and go as he pleased, pissing on whatever fancied him at the moment. That Kevin-- such an impulsive one; but also a creature of habit (as are we all).
Kevin, that little furry, gray, sweet-faced kitty; our neighbors' kitty. Kevin, that fucking piss cat. Once we moved in and he was unable to enter our home as he pleased (and also in retaliation of Peanut Butter) Kevin began pissing on all of the windows that he could reach around the house. Every morning the kitchen, bathroom, living room, and deck windows were flickered in fresh Kevin piss. And a couple of times, when we left the deck door open for PB, Kevin would sneak in and piss on walls wherever he could. Once we even found him inside our house and cornered him, spraying him with a water bottle until he ran out. He hasn't been back inside since. And the window pissing has definitely gone down quite a lot. I rarely even see him outside anymore. A presence that was once so prevalent has been made rare, thanks to a little water. But I know that he is always lurking, whether it be inside my neighbors' house, on the roof, or on my mind.

"We should probably close the skylight, in case Kevin decides to piss on it."

Backlog: Dream #2

I am in the back seat of a very shiny limousine. even the inside is shiny. I am fucked up on some sort of drug. i keep rubbing my eyes and every time i pull my hands away from my face, the world is blurry; eyelids heavy. the car is moving fast and the world is blurry and dark-- shades of black, purple, gray. finally i am able to open my eyes enough to make out figures. there is an older Japanese man sitting to the left of me and a younger one to my right. I know that that they are uncle and nephew. then I realize that I am wearing a low-cut red satin gown and that the older man has his hand down my shirt, grasping my breast.

we arrive at some sort of banquet hall or opera house. i'm not sure which. the limo comes to a quick hault. i stumble out of the car pissed off but unable to speak. my skin feels hot.

we are sitting in folding chairs in the middle of an audience watching some sort of graduation ceremony. my dress is now navy blue, and I know that the men I am with have lied to me-- they are Chinese and not Japanese. they are eating escargot and drinking champagne. instead of fucked up, i now feel excited.

people in tuxedos and gowns line up in a row across a long stage and into the aisles to the left and right of that stage. they are of all ages and races. they come up, two at a time, from each side, to a podium in the center of the stage. each person bows and takes an object that i cannot identify from the podium, and then they move off stage and into the aisles until everyone in line has taken from the podium. i feel anxious, as if I am supposed to be one of these people. i try to stand up out of my chair to join them, but cannot. both men have hands on my shoulders and i cannot move.

a moment of silence, and then... a blast of ear-shattering BANG! they have all shot themselves in the head. red everywhere. everyone and everything around turns white and all i see is the red. then i notice an older black man still standing. he has dropped his gun and he is crying. i cannot tell if he has tears of joy or sadness, but i feel very happy that he is alive.

As of late

I haven't been doing much thinking or creating in the past week; thus, I haven't been doing any writing. I have so many ideas, but the day job makes for one boring weeknight gal. It can be a struggle if you let it. My pseudophilosophy has been "oh well, it's good to do nothing sometimes," but I think that's just a way to cope with the self-guilt of unproductivity. oh well, that's life, eh? (also way way to cope)...

and so here I am: drinking my box'o'wine, watching Jersey Shore, maybe drawing a bit (maybe not), blogging about feeling lame, and, ultimately, falling asleep around 2am or so...

this is my life. until tomorrow.

Backlog: Dream #3

i have been meaning to keep a written record of my most intriguing dreams of 2011, and have yet to do so. Backlog starts now. January dream-of-intrigue #3:

-----------------
Katie, Mike, Jason Segel, and i were walking towards the bottom of a cliff... everything was gray-- all i could focus on was a black spot in the center of my vision which kept getting bigger as we walked toward it. then the rain started. cold wet specks freckled the thin fabric over my shoulders. we started running. i was holding Katie's hand as Mike and J.S. ran quickly ahead of us. then i realized that the black spot was actually the opening to a very large cave. i felt cold rising up my legs, past my knees and suddenly we were standing in water. rain drops plucked the waters surface with sharpness and then rippled quickly into one another. the solid gray that surrounded us entered a ripple-effect. we entered the cave.

BLACK. no more memory of being inside the cave.

outside the cave again. Katie and i are laying on our backs in wet sand. maybe unconscious? i open my eyes and look at the sky. it is black. twirls of wind like little tornadoes dot and flash in the sky. i look to my left and see Mike standing over me. he is wearing a white and black clown face, but its his actual face. not a mask. make-up? i grab katie's hand and she opens her eyes. i look back at the sky and it is blue and clear.

an unappealing feeling

"Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people." -Eleanor Roosevelt

Today has been a challenge, to say the least. No elaborations at the moment.

. . .

sometimes realizations about life can be very excitable, dramatic experiences. sometimes those same realizations can be very solemn and humbling. today, fortunately, has been the latter for me. i'm okay with the quiet. it's almost like meditation, except that my eyes are open.

.

sometimes the lightest light comes from the darkest dark.

listen to it. build your backbone on it. stretch your body against its skyscrapers; rest your body in its sunken valleys. dye it pink with the blood from your open wounds-- the wounds that it gave you with its precise edges and falls.

like sunflowers in the sun. like marigolds in the moonlight. you crawl for it, you rise for it, you breath speak eat for it. you want it. and here you are, wanting it; having it.

no one you know

No one you know by fslux


i just recorded this track for the soon-to-be release of Placenta Recordings' family 5-cd box set compilation. you may no be able to tell, but the track was originally a cover of the Doors' "Hello, I Love You," before i cut it down to almost unrecognizable... umm, the only recognizable thing about it would have been the lyrics, btw. ;)

anyhow, it made me want to do a covers album. i have flirted with this idea many times in the past, but have finally decided to make it a GO. so , yea... expect some fsluxish covers in the near future! (i am very excited about this!)... Ween, Tommy James and the Shondells, Guns n Roses, Richard Hell, Kool Keith, etcetc...

where's the moisturizer?

this photo was taken at Death Valley.

i love the desert. pure, simple, crackling clean. when you are in it, with no one else around for miles, the silence is the eeriest thing you could ever not hear. eerie. at night in your tent, the full moon sitting on pitch black, you here young coyotes running, playing, and yelping on the other side of that thin, meshy fabric. that may be even more eerie than the silence. and you love it.

stick em up, kittycat

about three years ago, i didn't know many people living in the city of Oakland who hadn't been held at gunpoint in the not distant past. but at that time, i really didn't know too many people here.
in my opinion and proximity to blast zones, things have changed. it all depends on where you sleep at night. but no matter where that may be, we all enjoy fireworks on NYE. them Gs be poppin the blocks off. argharghargh

like jellies toward the sun

swing it over here, shawty

aquariums are neato. this was taken at the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

places where jellies hang out are also neato. during the last couple of months of my life in Tacoma, WA, i used to frequent Redondo Beach almost daily. i would sit on the pebbly beach of the Puget Sound, right near the Sound Garden (look it up), and watch hundreds of small jellyfish bob and blob up and down, florescent pink and violet, in the glistening green-gold water. tentacled thoughts of poisonous curiosity awakened me, stirred my fancy, then left me sleepy, cheeks stained red from Sun's mighty kisses. those were good days.

from this day forward

2011 is the year of no bitching. this is my motto. we begin the rest of our lives with a positive attitude. and if i'm bitching, it's prolly because i absolutely have to. =)

this blog is about nothing. yeah you've heard that before. this blog is about everything. you've heard that one, too. this blog is about what i see when i open my eyes. just another way to talk to you without actually talking to you. this is where we are right now. this is everything.