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WED 06.14.06-- STRANGE LOVE
here I am
drinking tea on the
moon
counting backwards
and dreaming of you
why am I so afraid
to drop you a line
to call
even if it were right
it would be all wrong
all we have
is all we have
lip-locked amazement
some kind of strange love
existing in some other world
we can't touch
here I stay
drinking tea on the moon
counting backwards
and dreaming of you
FRI 06.16.06-- THE AWAKENING pt.1
I stir to consciousness with
the sun in my face beating hard. All is light and I cannot pin down
the source. A purpose swells in me... a fragile one, but a strong
one nonetheless. I feel the high white clouds of mania inside me,
but I harbour no delusion.
I stand on the platform again
a chance in a million-
or a bullet swiftly dodged?
a man of conscience
or just a simple coward?
My eyes begin to adjust to
the light. I feel my body slip back into comfort. I sigh and find
my center. I stand firmly on the ground clutching the answer to my
question.
TUE 11.14.06-- SOCIAL AMNESIA
I gotta admit... there's
something that's been bugging me lately. (surprised?) I know I'm going
onto the block with this one because almost everybody I know does
this- but I HATE it when people at parties say "I remember
faces, not names." As if this totally absolves people from recalling
people's names. C'mon- who the hell doesn't remember faces?
I'm not saying that I remember
everybody's name all the time- not by any means. But I don't go around
pretending that it's okay. Well, whenever I hear somebody cutely say
"I remember faces, not names," I usually reply that I'm
the opposite. "I remember names, not faces." As if I've
got this bag filled with names who's faces I can't attach them to.
Most people look at me a little confused, and then just kinda move
on.
THURS 04.05.07-- HOW I KNOW THAT THERE
IS A HEAVEN
[morning dream in 10 parts]
the plane crash I
was sitting somewhere with my dad and some other people, friends,
my brother maybe, and all the sudden somebody pointed up at the night
sky. Holy shit. There was a plane falling from the sky. We always
see those little T shapes up there flying around. Every day we see
them. But this little T of a plane was heading toward the ground very
quickly and very close to use. There was fire all around it. It finally
struck the ground, making a short earthquake. There was a huge explosion.
We all looked around at each other with great concern. The fuselage
of the craft was an inferno, barreling towards us. It began to rotate.
It came right through the terrace of the outdoor restaurant spinning,
but instead of killing us, it went right through us like we were watching
it on a reality-sized television.
the time machine game
then my friend Jim was driving an old station wagon, I was in the
passenger seat, and there were a few people in the backseat. It was
so clear that this was much more than a dream, so I asked him what
in tarnation was going on. He said that it was the time machine game.
He said, you know, how you told me that people are other people on
other levels? I said, yeah, and he said to look in the back seat.
He said, "that's the actor that played an actor in that movie".
I looked, and sure enough, it was. ?. I remember Ellen was also in
the back seat. There was a longer sequence to follow [that I don't
remember] with only Ellen and I walking down the exciting streets.
It was understood that we were both not dreaming, but rather having
an extremely involved shared spiritual experience.
the exacerbation of gravity
then I was walking down a road having just past an intersection and
all the sudden everything got very heavy. Gravity had gone amuck.
Normal walking became like navigating molasses. Everybody around the
small town that I could see was trying to walk this way. The people
were moving but there was a strange quiet like there is when the power
goes out- when all the appliance hum you never thought you could hear
goes off and there is a supernatural silence about it. A truck engine
at the intersection went dead. The driver was trying to turn it over,
but all there was was the futile rusty string of hiccups. Then nothing.
The driver tried again; but still nothing. It was happening, thought
everybody. It was finally happening.
locker room shower
then i was in a traditionally tiled locker room of sorts. the old
men There were two old men having sex underneath one of the showers
and it appeared that they wanted me to join them. I said seductively
'I bet you want me to' and then one of them started to get really
excited. Then I said "not a chance in hell!" and then turned
around to walk out. the programming booth There was a glassed-in
control room. I could make out figures of people in black sitting
down with headsets on, seemingly controlling the menagerie of the
men- as well as a menagerie of the women: I continued past the booth
into the room beyond. the fashion show it was kind of set in
a tiled shower room but there were no actual showers. Instead, I saw
a very large piece of wood with holes cut out for people's faces.
Skinny bathingsuited girlies were painted on the piece of wood, and
4 or 5 girls' faces stuck through smiling and preening. One of the
girls was Ellen. I kept walking until I could see what was really
going on behind the piece of wood. There were 7 or 8 women back there,
all naked, fondling those whose heads were making the faces through
the wood. The posers were otherwise busy just smiling all pretty-
presumably fueled by the affections going on behind.
slipping in and out of
dream then Ellen and I were making love. then I woke up and was
in my bed again and we were actually making love just like in the
dream. I tried not to concentrate so that I could slip back into the
dream again. That's how it is with dream. If I start to get too conscious,
the dream disappears; so back and forth I went, afraid to wake up
and ruin the dream. [as it turns out, all of this was dream.]
interchangeability
in the light of the dream, Ellen looked like the darker skinned Emmanuel.
I would squint. I was confused. I was glad that Ellen looked so much
like Emmanuel.
paris and resilient rubber
I stepped off an elevator, or something similar, and I was in Paris.
The street was black top, but gave like rubber, and walking became
a fun kind of puussssshhhhh down.... riiiiissseeee up affair. I started
to jump harder and flew farther up into the sky. I would land harder
and the street would stretch beneath my feet- down... doooowwwnnn...
doowwwwwnnnnn, and then way back up into the sky again. I saw some
policemen on the side of the street, and was almost sure I was going
to be in trouble for this wild kind of ambulation I'd been enjoying.
Instead, one cop motioned with his arms and upper body that I should
twist around as well. He had an expression that said "you think
the walking part is cool, try twisting!" So I did and it was
exhilarating. A total blast. It started to dawn on me that I was in
Paris and that Belle was probably there. I had to find Montparnasse.
She would be there. And then something else happened. I don't remember...
the next thing I remember was
the independence realizing
that the primary focus of life is my self... my own health, my own
happiness, my own independence. All else is secondary. All else is
impossible without it. I kept walking down the road. Not bouncing
anymore, just walking. Strong shouldered, scared but confident. I
ambled off into the distance.
the brush and comb shop
at the end of the long road... a pinkish sign with the message "Belle's
brush and comb shop" I started toward the door now in tears.
Inside, Belle was there behind the small counter standing with a composure
I've never seen on her before. Her shoulders were high. She was an
adult now. Her sweater was simple, she had an inexpensive necklace
with plastic charms on it but it was simple and beautiful. I started
to cry. She motioned her young male employee that she would be right
back. She touched my shoulder and we went outside to talk. Back out
on the road we hugged. It was a long hug and I stroked her back with
the force of relief/desperation. She looked at me and smiled with
all-knowing eyes and said softly 'you are on a journey, aren't you.'
the radio contest
I was on my way back to somewhere and my cell phone rang. It was my
dad. He had somebody on partyline saying that I was entered into a
contest. I had to copy down the letters and numbers this guy was saying,
and then call him back in 5 minutes at a phone number he was trying
to give me. The reception was bad, so I was maybe trying to have my
dad copy the stuff down for me first. It was a radio contest and I
was to win a million dollars. I got so frustrated at the bad reception-this
whole idea of a radio contest- let alone a million dollars- had very
little interest to me. I had much more important pursuits at the moment.
I said "ya know- just forget it." And hung up. I realized
that they were just going to pay me money they had stolen from me
in the first place anyway.
TUE 05.29.07-- ACCORDING
TO WALGREENS...
Out of the
several magazines for sale at the Walgreen's checkout, only one
mentioned that we were at war. Oh, and apparently it's only against
the Paparazzi.
MON 06.18.07-- NIGHTLIGHT
You died in
an airplane crash last night while I was in deep sleep. I was sad
but not ruined. A flight attendant in her earthly blues gave me a
small green soft plastic nightlight with your name on it. I picture
it still glowing about a foot off the hardwood floor of my bedroom.
And this is how I remember you.
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