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."