dreamweaver two

23 october 2024 oh to redeploy this on a smurf anniversary. i think i should have waited until the 30th, ezra pound day, or even november...yet there is a lot on my mind and writing is what i do... pelevin does not write in fact he puzzles over a position, sometimes in brilliant fashion, until drowning it with a sort of too much information for his readers to process...in my experience the nearest example for contrast would be phillip k dick... the writer had recently completed notes for a novel and was told pdk shopped at happy dog for horse meat when he was struggling to survive hence horselover fat... that is to say it is the type of style one encounters in valis except amped up as if the loudness allowed more freedom of speech i suppose... subsequently i read the horse stealers by anton chekhov... let's see before i delve deeper...i have decided to not include the preceeding notes, themselves possibly a book or two, these should stand on their own and if any reader would like them well i would not refuse a request to package them up and send them through... my point is that writing freely should not be mistaken with writing for free, life is not free and even awful writing is paid...case in point, colleen hoover... or do women usually follow men into new york city restrooms after the author picks at bulgokov's entrance... ahem. i never realized how good lecarre was until reading his first novel which was perfection save for the jewess's confession and the ending list in any case miles above the film version which kept the wife as self-described nymphomaniac slut in a redundant twist that must've made john's head spin... yes i know too much prelude for dream notes and so here goes; hurricane milton followed helene and i was haunted by the control weather brim skit as many others thought the democrats were trying to smash the hard core red state voters to gain those delegates, those delicate votes... one ukrainian and his family got swallowed in florida after escaping the so-called war...the appointment in samara fleshed out with full irony... within my own contradictions i dreamt of a topless cousin and eating cake - later seeing her arrive with other girls...hadnt thought of her much since she never invited me to her wedding and later that evening i had a clear vision of her bed...excuse me i am not looking for parking, in fact i don't have a vehicle... the man mom married passed away on the same day as jack kerouac had, which was about the time she moved to the states over the hills and far away... something kept trying to connect me with him and i even felt it scan memory as if to say aha or even make it my demise...i was starting to even feel dizzy sick until james cagney directed shortcut to hell... i'm with zelda in france at some art class and it feels as natural as being with joan in england pub except one of them was taking my picture and i had not shaved and tried to hide my stubble as it were... floating in my apartment as if visiting myself - the cat is on one of the beds - finding myself in a car being kissed by ava and her triangle tongue, later speaking with zofia... a man was handing me a great variety of two dollar bills, i watched flightplan again and catchfire, how does one forget nudity - perhaps when the talent is so overwhelming that what remains is the method not the madness - loro was a real revelation and i had no answer to my own question, if you liked youth so much why not seek out other films by that director... the family friend was no let down, even thrilling once in a while - meanwhile the box of things minus the requested samsonite case i asked for which was sent out in june finally arrived in october... i was much more satisfied by the substance, i keep looking back at it amazed at its form... reminded after of the girl i walk'd some with - down riverside drive... dress as if meant to be recalled...packing suitcase as marlon talks - i think he was recording to tape also...talk of order, standing in line french fries conspiracy - a finger at my lip - what does the sticker say? two million dollars carrying a girl inside a movie theatre - someone is tracking us - i think of laura sophia instead of lotta, fresh air - i'm standing at the entrance of a mansion, in fact i think i only dreamt of lotta once...in any case i recite the phone number that pre-dates me and is yet active - there are two women one undressed and bleeding it seems like menstruation unfiltered and left without washing but it is all so fast i cannot focus and awake like when walking on aluminum foil landscape - was it bird or insect at window suddenly mixed by chirp or crawling sound within me...not sure yet i was trying to escape...i cannot escape my lost apartment, there i am with mother painting the hall i am going to my room convinced that my date is not coming, but the girl arrives wearing a pleated skirt which she raises in front of me as if to make me get up...there is an indian statue with the word nadie or nadia and i like it deciding to put place it on my dresser...it wears a dark shawl, i start thinking they also did not send my japanese cat statue...so when did i actually start to weep? well, during dominique when the boy dies protecting the girl oksana left in a chained padlock light switch room...not that i'm the action packed type but someone called asking for leidsa numbers i think i said 34, 76, and 91...nobody called in terms of condolences. (one call from an aunt followed this typing, which inspired me to invent a man who had a toaster for an ass which needed to be plugged in) alina sent nude pictures. (possible email scam but as a gentleman i try to reply pleasantly) i only cry in the movies and even if i spend the day smoking i never light up a cigarette in dreams...

0ctober 24...dreams like visitations - well, visions to be precise... i had received a phone call, a nearly unusual event these days... so there was more talk than what has become ordinary - i suppose that along with texting went a ways into overwhelming my senses - i went to sleep at the second hour after midnight thinking of book titles and elvis costello - one of us is lying...i get what feels like a locked car in the sun temperature or perhaps a sun soaked roof feeling and get up to let in fresh air and pour water on myself...when i finally get to sleep i dream that i am naked on my bed and someone starts speaking...i cover myself and feel cool enough not to wonder or worry since it is a know face - still, there is something about it upon reflection that is disturbing; this all becomes some sort of party, i wonder how long it takes to fly from warsaw to tel aviv but alexandra is actually flying to new york - there is now a group of people mainly girls - one of them remninds me of helena's jeans under a tied christian dior shirt she pulled on like you would a t-shirt...buttons must feel she does not like them enough to unbutton and so forth...well in the dream it is not her, someone more spanish although possibly not spain - lotta hinted that she had a greatly good time in mallorca yet i have not witnessed the recording myself...in the dream i feel drained while the woman in those specific jeans looks to be in an orgasmic convulsion as if possessed like a spirit is making love her or at least nibble kissing her neck yet no one is near and worse everyone acts as if nothing is going down...i must have got up at some point and am standing in the crowd studying her - she has another fit in the epilepsy style except this time she is intent on reaching the source of her frantic excitement - as she exits i see two men on a bed, there is a tv on and a laptop also on next it...i say something about turning at least one of them off and they don't disagree...i awake right after to find that i only slept a couple of hours...i jot the basics of the scenes, fill the bath with water and ivory and hope i can catch some more minutes of sleep and or dreams that make more sense before i slip into coffee and internet and such... thursday is rising fast and my only plan is to go through my scales especially the two new ones i keep mixing up - not certain why arabic translates in thought as if enigmatic and vice versa... (my ritual is now at eighteen scales, one of them my own hybrid creation...) ps. did more sleep did sleep more yet maybe too much...seen mallorca except she seemed more content in the paradoxe...i recalled another scene wherein some child dislodged a lens from my frames...i pick it up to see if it can be returned to place but it is shattered and much larger...dolce gabanna it actually happened in the city without a kid just a sliver missing, glasses i still wear...well, outside as for some reason i took to not wearing eyewear at home - meanwhile london and i never understood how sarcastic daniel's face could be but i mean that in a goodly way...expression, some faces need no words to communicate...lotta communicates eye patches in stories yet her puffy morning eyes are when i think she looks exquisitely beautiful...but now i know prada preceeded the perfume in dusseldorf...alison james wrote wilhemina tempest's obituary - “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” i have inclinations to continue to employ the pen at ASDBL and even the alaska experiment yet it is not pressing, it is like ideas or notions i wonder if i should augment with...obviously wilhemina bring this to mind as i'm not sure if i made it clear enough that she branches out from the source muse character to another yes that and the fact that i think it might be good to list all the types of horses perhaps in a glossary as burroughs did with drugs...there is actually a buzz as if i am getting high on my own writing... “You taught me language, and my profit on’t is, I know how to curse.”

25 october - friday the funeral I did not attend or intend to go to... in speaking to the widow about my reasons, the point arose in mind's irony...well i had a dream that i was standing in a funeral ceremony viewing myself in the coffin... i said it was about the age of twelve but most likely it was later as it impressed me so that it was among the first attempts at literature...the dream is true however the fear of it is not...i stayed up much later than i wanted, getting up several times to make soup and and to make coffee and even again to seduce the hunger into submission with a slice of bread...there was an emptiness i could not explain...let us call it an invasion - a mystical raid that later even extended into language as a foreign song tried to spin around my head... it was late morning by the time i got to sleep, the hours herein reflect a european time zone - early evening awoke from dreams that found me in a modern building - the office type - i am trying to get a pair of shoes fixed and i am told by a woman where i could get that done...as i approach the elevator it shuts and slides down yet i hear someone say they will bring it back which nearly instantly they do as i then find myself holding a pair of adidas...it is an elevator operator like in a recent instyle story reel which lucy was in...i suppose it came to mind and there i am with her but it is like a pastry shop where i lose sight of her and start unwrapping and tasting and returning the sweets to their place wrapped, as the voice of some other women recommends, i like the taste or perhaps i have not satisfied the weird hunger... i think to get some for the widow and the dream ends. i had viewed a japanese film, kubi, which is said to be about events in 1582...although crowded with bloody scenes and even a careless view of homosexuality or if you prefer a degrading view of women (which should prove shocking enough to most),it still did not have that centerpiece alike hellboy the crooked man wherein the snake exits the girl's down there parts and slithers up into her mouth...the most striking moment was the "delicious" poisoned snapper irony. if only they could have bought dean martin's ain't that a kick in the head for the final credits.

12 november...was it lennon, life is waht happens when you are busy making other plans...i did not intend to have to wait so long for a dream that made sense enough to put place into words... although i know the experience as commonplace to myself when under the influence of weed wherein dreams are so light they carry no weight in memory... meanwhile i kept cleaning house...i view'd several many more films, most recently thunderball, man woman or teen was that tom jones belting out the theme... sean sucking claudine's foot...she was in a genius bikini...in the dream it was evening and within that night the rain poured down in storm-fashion...the times wroted 'trump storms back' as if it wasnt enough to have stuck their neck out on the silly endorsement they seemed to go with a cheap daniels jape... i remember i went shopping for a fan - thinking it sort of proved that 2020 was replete, filled with fraud... people, in the dream scene were running, crowds of them, through the shadow of trees above where i walked which was a roadway, a woman was with me as we decided to hail a taxi, japanese contraption spied letting out a customer and i got in as the girl vanished - a very little man drove but on the side as one might find in those sidekick motorcycle - another man without pickles kept nearing from the front i faced as if searching me for something - i searched through sofia's first well second failed film which is called priscilla, first girl i ever kissed in some childhood lobby uptown, it starts ramones perfect directer by spector but i felt the cast did not resemble the reality, even graceland looked like an apartment not a mansion, vegas scene was nice, the hinted los angeles ending was cool yet like the book burning it didnt capture the impact...no elvis songs in the soundtrack sure was shocking...yes i know easy to monday morning quarterback pick apart and yes obviously a great amount of effort went into it...hopefully she will get back to form in her next scenes...the driver did not want to go to bella vista and i had to agree to be let out as near to my destination as he could manage...i awoke before getting anywhere, gabby got published with nowhere, usa and i was very happy for her without agreeing that the midwest is hell...or even frozen although i know poetic language is what language cannot be...robert graves, the white goddess, a reading that makes me feel the limit of my own recall. thousands of stories and connections which are impossible to memorize... embraced it awake and held it asleep...one understands some of the major points, the intent, let us call it the premise...in itself a duality that aims to prove and provoke yet in the build up of facts and circumstantial evidence there is a dizzy sort of who or what question as the whirlwind spins into a series of explorations... i agree somewhat - not with the style - but with the concept and feel especially thrilled that there is no pop quiz at the end of this bizarre masterpiece. the jews agree; the body should be buried...the outrun, say or see never looked so beautiful yet how could such an intelligent character be so dumb? well, drinking does kill brain cells, they say...did love the ending. these are not movie recommendations, merely notes for i know not what exactly except by definition as a writer i scribble into the constant illusion of now... the past presents itself in emilee form again the run, in the book he mentions witches running around a place nine times to cast a spell or the mirror walk behind the cursed one so their prat fall results in the stumble - there's a little girl, so precious and pretty, i am sure it is an illusion but i explain that yes i am keeping my promise to the extent that no masked intruder could make a fool of me...for a minute i wanted to believe michael was innocent but then i asked myself and even ai what other man ever asked to sleep with someone's child nevermind the box of porn under the bed... ah yes, ready or not - a real modern classic with spontanous combustion...dear me i liked that one alot, in some ways a sort of documentary i felt for myself as i sometimes believe my family has always been out to rub out or switch off my dream girl...maternal grandmother being the exception, i digress...not meaning to have such a word count here dear readers if i have any other dream to report you will find it here... please note - warner brothers/level is pulling the plug on two skinny girls...i could remove the catalog now but why would i? so i am letting it happen so it will be on their heads not mine and re-uploading the songs after that point. hopefully there won't be much downtime but so you know it is not a glitch in the streaming services or outlets circa 18 november and beyond.

13 november dream fading upon waking possibly eva green or lotta stichler, the knit sweater taking longer than i expected, the idea of twin sister sure is interesting- not so interesting is the day's unusual diet dessert flan on top of leftover chinese and two almond cupcakes - it's like being drowsy drunk on food...fueled with never say never again where sean returns to bookend the remake i make thoughts on megapolis, as i revist the ending of the white goddess wherein graves gives the devil his due as it were...my bath so cold i yelped - where was i oh yes this one is not easy, i hope it is like depalma scarface which i couldnt understand until a second viewing, but i boubt it as this seems to require the faith of an inner child yet it is precisely achild in the role of an assassin... elvis impersonator felt weird unless one thinks of his daughter - my fued with it can be in the sum of two points; that lead actress seemed to be pulled from the cast of show girls and dud did not transmit emotions required for empathy and morpheus stands around as if he had really been killed in the apocalypse now boat a walking zombie also doing voice over keeping in mind that he can memorize shakespeare it must have been the easiest role he ever learnt but if vourse iyt is not a movie...it is a family affair a warning and a prayer with deliverance arrows my firs thought was oh no not a happy ending sensed tears at the dedication to wife once he was going to forget everythint he had learned and write like he was a teen, perhaps that is what we have seen...director's cut? classified wondering why aaron kept leaving the fire arms released along with the extended version of caligula well woman of the hour had something, that is how wrong we can be in judging...anyway i was hoping for a sort of youth without youth vibe but maybe next time - at least there was a real sense of new york city in the apprentice...pre-disney manhattan might have been the message in me gap ol is...ford to city drop... of course the issue with outstanding acting ie the critic is that one starts rooting for the villainous character...irony will drown us all... i tear up the picture of the fat man of the week tv show interview the dearly departed had done finding it alone in a scrap book never started - i play my scales over the film concentrating on the gypsy...now thinking that's what dylan called elvis staying in a big hotel smiling as he appreached saying well well...i try to take a nap but the nap takes me further into thinking with the national soundtrack of ymca village folk rising in nonsense echoing...young mens christian association... maybe it will help jerry lee's cousin jimmy... maybe i have overdosed on film...certainly on porn...some other position postultes god in the volcano or zeus...some of it makes sense and it gives me pause...perhaps i have to revisit joseph campbell's ideas...tomorrow and tomorrow alexander the great is named pharaoh but that 332BC, not because but before it's fun to stay at the why have we not been there...

14 november i'd felt outside my self all day as if waiting for the evening and the i'd felt the evening was not waiting for me... they say the berlin ruling system collapsed, they say dw union is on a two day strike... maybe i was locked in a teledisco booth - some of the monkeys were given fruit loops... in terms of entertainment, i should have mentioned finally catching up with the second parts of ahs 12 as well as american horror stories. emma, have i got a story for you concerning the ambulance birth...but i didn't get why wear the bitch's headgear? otherwise i liked the liminal spaces idea but i really have an insnae bias against blubbler so i could hardly enjoy the last part of the stories which should have brought to mind asylum season, yeah i was more worried that the buttons of her blouse were going to fly off into the the other actress's face... pre dream pissing on lotta's face... walking through the chelsea hotel thinking of the brazilian girl i went there with willy deville singing to walk that girl home... minutes or moments later it's all pretty dark and i seem to be without a body hovering or hooked up with some woman on amsterdam avenue who is upset over the drug dealers that stand around in fron of the shop she's trying to get into...i hear the vague outline of her voice arguing against them and they seem to be replicas of each other even in the way they are dressed...i don't know where this dream went - i get up too early but take a minute or a moment for cigarettes coffee and this note...marian is on my mind as i give skirt the party mix eats... there's a text message about a wallet and it nearly derails all the details of the dreaming but as i type i start to recall the strange door dreams, three k where i find cheese and nickel bags thinking to snack and go back to my room and puff when it sounded like someone was at the entrance...other door dream opening but then it does not fit like three quarters of it only which left a slender opening... here door a motley gang of men insisting that i am having a soiree and wanting to come in and celebrate as i stand there baffled and nearly upset...i had lined the back door with litre glasses of coca cola bottles, but it was the front door. people are strange when you're a stranger should have been played. seven in the morning sweden, one in the morning here, eleven in the evening los angeles. this ain't the mud club or cbgb's... early afternoon in asian towns, sounds like monkey genocide in thailand...valencia might re-flood with evacuations underway, i hope padam padam is a hit but there is no logical way to juggle time zones...

23 november...so much has gone down and yet not much has happened...arrival of guest and groovy haul - my habit was to always buy one nice shirt when possible but i find myself with five new shirts all at once... a weird luxury. some rich dreams too yet mostly disintegrating as the waking thoughts rattle me up to serve breakfast and start the day...a few weeks ago i was very happy that lucy was going to film in rome, i think where fellini worked out his scenese, and i sure did have a dream wherein we were very friendly as if rejoicing yet lotta had gone to new york and mentioned a girl named giulia which then made me think it might have been her in the dream...not much time for sleep as i don't allow my guest to cook or clean...but this is no complaint or protest... i play the substance everyday, today will be the fifth time...in fact i am looking forward to it...there's a week or so left of this "visiting" and i will try to report on the proceedings as soon as possible...posed one of the "taken down" songs and it was a spirit breaking experience...the cover was not accepted since they require very specific dimensions, so my lock and key artwork went by the wayside for some stock image...then the exported catalog is all in wav files but this requires mp3 or flac...it was for -low fi- and they require at least one foreign language metadata and i chose traditional chinese which then had to be augmented by simplified chinese... i could not imagine doing this for thirty songs... would you? the lyrics of it's a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll never mentioned such tedious work involved in getting one's music out... for reference; (low fi)

the sun drives across my skinq
sweeter than a nevervous breakdown breakdown
nobody in the human race
is my next of kin
nah this tan can't camouflage
my sound

you make every need go vanish
oh translator says you're not even spanish
while the seamstress
she does a double-stitch
you clarify yes
i'm from the land
of the ignition-switch
oh
yeah this climbing sure brings knees
that broke summer in las vegas
is still beggin for rain
border of a roulette wheel
you feel the grease
love time handle whore
swears it's all insane

you make every need go vanish
translator says you're not even spanish
oh the seamstress
she does a double-stitch
you clarify
man i'm from the land
of the ignition-switch

rick and morty makin me go puff
puff puff
i'm still at spongebob square pants
break down
says trump looks like mrs puff
oh yeah i'm in a hypnotic trance huh

you make every need go vanish
make every need go vanish
make every need go vanish
oh ooh
make every need go vanish
you make every need go
make every need go vanish
make every need go vanish
all right
you make every need vanish
you yeahyeahyeah
you make every need go vanish

----- chords g minor - f major - d major - e flat - e major - f major 5... -------
well, stuck inside of mobile with the memphis blues again did sort of say there was some sort of repetition involved in the "creative" process; smoking eyelids and punched cigarettes... ashes when i have tray time i will see if there is another way to get the other songs out in the format they already have... i listened to it again thinking sure it's not a hit but it is not run of the mill...usually it's books that go out of print... to have this happen to songs is beyond bizarre... sort of like gogol's the nose! well, here's wishing you all a decent thanksgiving.
27 november...i dreamt yesterday that iwas flying to to europe from the states...germany i suppose as that is a recurring scene in my dream mind...in this case the airport and luggage were all very detailed - someone was speaking as if asking questions, not sure what i said...did recall a pre-dream nightmare wherein i am talking to my sister as if hypnotized...she had actually dropped by - then again yesterday with her motley crew... went to sleep late smoking and wondering why lotta was still in new york...i dreamt playing guitar with the stones and trying to figure out some song about a feline in the key of c major... i got up early feeling tired all day - but it was rainy and i rather enjoy the downpour...she got miu miu eyewear and was on her way to the plane... i actually have not taken the time for notes or chords although i did make a leather strap for the ibanez...the idea was that not playing my daily scales would help her in some way...silly yet it satisfied something in my thoughts... or more correctly in my superstition - anyway i am looking ahead to getting back in rhythm tomorrow...besides, in skipping the thanksgiving shingdig, i will have the evening all to my self, well myself and skirt... had not heard the song flight 505, well five days left of hosting after tomorrow as the guest leaves early on the first week of december. word to the wise, don't dare miss say or see singing one of the blitz songs in the studio, it is exceptional or to kick at madonna's nerves some; it is neat.
30 november...weird watery dream wherein there was a screen embedded into the faucet handel of the shower...it resembled one of those ancient portable tv screens but smaller... invention dream; shower faucets with media screens... hmm...then of course i did not have a free thanksgiving as my guest decided not to go out - at least the lions won...memories of detroit swirled in thought...then further into childhood and my jacket...they have never gone all way - i really liked that jacket...you gotta lose your mind in detroit rock city...billy idol covered bob dylan's if not for you, i heard grace slick talking and was amazed by her honesty - but how is time magazine ten dollars? back to scales, felt no lapse. guest did venture out to visit someone else and so i do have part of taday free...in a moment of idk browsed the perlude to moby dick and thought melville had influenced me more than i realized...lotta left via gate 65 and arrived, an hour late, via gate 66...i thought the detail was quirky...lauren got a ritual candle and robyn erased her kill bill halloween pictures which i now miss... third day of pizza but my stomach has been sensitive for two days...i didn't expect, at this point, any dream recall at all yet last night the scenes were pretty particular - as if i had married virginia and one of her children was even calling me daddy... then moving into an apartment which was more like a mailbox building or perhaps the locker in the substance where the packages are delivered... everything seemed so compact...i always feel this place itself is too big for one person but i like the options of several rooms...in the one room dream i sensed sister invading thought as she had said she was going to an apartment hotel for the weekend and when this happens i always wonder which one of her known relations has slipped into my place as if i were him or the like? well they are scheduled to leave on tuesday as well as my guest... great fun with the story of the fruit vendor who sold a banana which was used to make art and then eaten by a millionaire...that antique song that said bananas have to ripen in a special comes to mind...cheers.
december one
sunday - i first heard it within everyone says i love you...marshall brickman gone at eighty five...nap snapped into song, 'i got a notion to love you all day' heard it as if had already been wroted... dream in the park i talk too much and can't think of what to say then say, i contain multitudes, which is a song that was alredy wroted yet i only have a vague memory of it since i concentrated on murder most foul and later on key west philosopher pirate... this was not intended to segue from herman, but such is life...late at night a flood of emotions resolving in hunger that made me get up again for bread and ironically coffee...awoke minutes before nine - dream lotta's mother seemingly setting up lunch or some meal in a very exact way...i'm not sure, but it was pretty impressive and for a minute i wondered trying to figure out the scene aside from inner intuition what it was about...like a self interview, is she telling me something, i usually don't eat much but there is no need to set up a table meal, i should get up and look after my guest, it seems dark but the foil on the windows doesnt let the sun in, if it is lotta's mother then why do i feel attracted, oh no i am excited, now how am i going to explain this... the misfits is on prime. i'm in the middle of grand hotel, i've been in the middle of it ever since the guest arrived... the list of films was updated but my viewing list is now way overdue...nothing can be done about til tuesday...
monday two december
after waking up way too early, i returned to sleep, and woke up a bit late...i'd been thinking about presidential pardons and sir elton john's eyes... my guest continually invites me to new york... i suppose it makes me dream of the city. well, the parts that i know...you cannot actually know a town like that...every few streets might be like entering a different country...even the seemingly empty spaces like tenth avenue on the west side or york avenue on the east are entirely different types of desolation...one feels industrial and the latter feels richly secluded even like a suburb - at least that is my feeling. i suppose it was more in the middle, in the mid town area perhaps right below columbus circle...i sense the crowd and the countless lights, some woman asks me if i am drug dealer...i think only dh marks fits into that category...how many names bring back 2016... too many. i say no, quickly thinking of the ad, say no to dr-ugs and hoping that at least some of my stories and songs are addictive. meanwhile the cinema list has surpassed two thousand five hundred titles with additions from the silvia pinal filmography. mexican film has not had a good day in years, my favorite is el esqueleto de la senora morales...
december 4. pre departure dream sitting knees up on the the floor beside the conclusion of some sort of trap-door slide where a girl gently crashes into me, i could see she had arrived with someone else yet he vanished and we lay there with sort of embraced legs, it felt like until i went seemingly backwards into the trap-door and down with a falling naked feeling which was suddenly dressed and dressed again by what i can only describe as mail bag pouches with a much softer material...say they were heavy cotton yet these were soft linen with the same sand coloring although neither beige nor tan... subsequently my guest left. given that it was mom, well, it sure seemed to be her once in a while, i felt utterly alone. weird how one can get used to living by one's self yet seeing and serving another underlines the desolation, redefines it...ruins the illusion of what it means to be content...the girl in the scene i thought was kia, in other scenes there are other people in the house and mom is cleaning to which i react in opposition against the mop...stomping on one fellow as if a wrestling match...last night dreaming of walking down a road the type that is sleek asphalt yet surrounded by forest...strangers gathered, surrounded...for some reason i argued that i could not be detained because i needed to get back to help mother. i felt danger in the outnumbered position like a dying man circled by vultures... i cleaned my room which had been neglected for cleaning the rest of the apartment, i learned the word semiotics which i don't like and will possibly never use in conversation...i learned the chords of a song for you and heard the story of how sir elton john saved leon russell from the ditch on the road of life...yet it seems he was supposed to be a sort of underground giant, i mean even as much music as i hear, i only met his songs because i searched out will the circle be unbroken once upon a time a few months ago...strange. i suppose bertrand and later kurt possessed the name so fully that no one else has a shot with it... in a dream i am working and a girl is trying to get me to continue working without pay and in return she will flash me her tits fifty thousand times giving me an example preview...pink red nipples i could hardly remember her face thereafter as she turned away leaving me with the image of her chest...a man starts speaking perhaps asking if it is a deal but i think i only start making excuses...later shopping but also sweeping dirt from the floor...something is missing from the items i ordered at the last place and another woman is shwoing me the options...eight o'clock closing in on nine now...my to do list involves eating, taking out the trash, and laundry...hopefully everyone else is gearing up for christmas the only x-rated holiday that isn't sexual.
december 5. the reason for a song for you was to play it everyday, but in the irony of life it got entwined with my thoughts of mother... therefore, i opted for deep elem blues which also gives me a lot more options in terms of improvisation with lead riffs...i think i have the chords and some fills now i need to learn the words...will record it when it comes along...took a nap after meal and doing what i wanted or needed from my to do things, but then i was up late mostly thinking of lotta as if possessed by something that was never exact, never explained... time swimming like an olympic swimmer into dawn before i knew it. nothing in dream thought and it seemed some one due to proximity had invaded the scene wherein i am standing there listening to a story about how some people were living in a stranger's apartment and some other people questiong what they would do when the stranger arrived... in other words nothing that felt relevant to me... yet i note it as i don't make up dreams, maybe it will make sense down the line. alliteration in the news, deny defend depose, with at least one outlet also employing the word divulge...from the fourteenth century etymology ; "Middle English, from Anglo-French deposer, from Late Latin deponere (perfect indicative deposui), from Latin, to put down" nobody should get shot outside any hotel but i like that 'depose' is in circulation as it were...oh sweet mamma your daddy's got them deposed blues...
december 6. i reglimpsed the start of grand hotel, 1932... then picked up where i had left it two weeks ago when my guest arrived. i will try to note my reaction without spoilers and explain the sensation...there are two aspects, i went into it trying to understand greta garbo and then upon watching trying not to mix up barrymore with klein... there was also the buzz in my thoughts that brought me to it which was lotta having a family dinner at the grand hotel stockholm wearing one of the sweetest sweaters i have ever seen...well there then, this movie is very good and i could nearly understand the gg hype...however no luck with klein vs barrymore...still, the emotion overpowers the contrasting or rhyming appearance and at a certain point all i was thinking about was the character and maybe the pocketbook...it is one of those films to view a few times merely for the fact that - as ms hynde sings - they don't make 'em like they used to... someone tried to make a production of me throwing out the old sony radio or maybe all my attempts to get to sleep early converged into an irony that kept me up late again... i sure did dream something, i think now of lauren's neat drawers - maybe she got her christmas decorations done - i can't say what it was since i awoke sort of hounded by someone at the ten oclock hour...did i look too pale? why on earth is it that some people cannot simply agree to disagree...a line from license to kill resounds in thought, dylan or the management that runs his tweet spoke of the film "based" on him or who he used to be... myself i refuse to see anything that actor is in since a rainy day in new york...because he was so helpful in firing up the witchhunt against the director...anyway cate blanchett prolly did a better bob in i;m not here or was it there...i'm not there...you ain't goin' nowhere... seven deadly sins magnitude kaliphornkneeah, they said after one man in butte county said to himself hey let me shoot at the kindergarden kids meanwhile a falling statue killed an eight year old in the next door state... not a good day to be child in america... otherwise i feel good, maybe not in the james brown way, yet good enough that if someone tells me to play that funky music, white boy, i could or possibly would. now then for woody; www.nytimes.com/2024/12/02/movies/woody-allen-marshall-brickman-q-and-a.html wherein you will learn about the word Anhedonia...

december 7. pearl harbors before natalia's birthday. i thought about the nearly logical thread that ran all the way from that film into london boulevard...don't be upset if i didn't mention joan crawford, she will be put placed prominently on the list...i viewed the great beauty - the opening only confused me and felt as if the director was teasing the audience...or like someone reluctant to let in the crowd to see the plot...yet it developed nicely...partly eclectic and partly ironic...especially at the end which contains a great gift in the form of music; the beatitudes by vladimir martynov. (kronos quartet) a piece that floats in a space all its own and cannot be contained by descriptive words, it has to be heard then one might give it an emotional setting upon each individual listen which could run the spectrum of several feelings... i got up well after noon after a long night thinking about lotta as i learned the nine months ago story when she missed a trip to portugal...in my dreams i was sitting somewhere where i could see the stairs...staring at the stairs instead of stars go figure; i hear the explosion that preceeds fire and see a man race up as if he had just set the nearby building, which in my dream mind i knew to be a drug den, ablaze...i thought well some people can never win but coldly as if empathy and myself had lost touch... later, certainly even colder, i am sitting elsewhere, trying to avoid another man as one of his friends arrive smiling at me like i am salvation personified...i don't like these people yet in my dream mind there is a real illumination, a wisdom that leaves me miles away from them even as they near then one of them mentions not having anyone to help him although the other one is still there...i take it as jab at my aloof state of mind and for a second i am forced to look at them as if there were no stars in the skies only to awake wishing i had not had that dream and still feeling the slime of their greed as i walked into the hallway to fix the start of the day.
december 8. i had read that the rebels took Homs and were entering Damascus as the dream i didn't note flashed in memory where i was either licking or tickling a woman and suddenly could not escape the squirting streaming into my face... i don't know much, but i do know that cate left her career to be with kevin and i havent seen him in anything since the christmas balls movie...i then read that assad fled syria- luxury cars on display at the telegraph... which made me think deny defend depose was pre-coded to announce the toppled regime...but i think too much when it comes to these things...in my mind what was truly interesting was hearing cole porter at stella a life since that is when i really felt admiration for kevin yet had not seen barrymore uhm so there i was in another film with him in mind well with him and elvis costello did let's misbahve on that soundtrack... but the film and paula beer is a powerhouse...not to mention that it is a true story...my only question with it was the failure to clearly claim the fact that many of the jews were also german - some even more so than the "germans" - it is hinted via the lead's father; noted as a war veteran but i felt that irony needed to be fleshed out a bit more. anyway to see jews working as gestapo agents in berlin gives such a rollercoaster ride of emotions that is like a drug... so very high with this film, indeed. STELLA. EIN LEBEN. then the shooter outside the hilton hotel and the rebel leader were identified in social media and in the press although it will most likely not be confirmed until tomorrow - i can only confirm that i dreamt of being in another house and sighing in the knowledge that the sink could not be used while observing someone open the faucet and watching the waterworks spill out from the sides and the pour down from the ceiling...there was a broken toilet in the corner next to the centered toilet...which caught my attention, usually there might be a bidet but who knows...so happy to write this as in a typo i came up with the word onserving...the cashier was onserving coins on the receipt upon the counter... in another dream uppermarket, why am i there, i am intent on getting exactly three items, cigarettes and two other things not as important as marlboros but there is a man with a beer belly buying sandwiches and i can see the filled bread and i can feel him stand way too near as he put places his arm across my shoulders and starts to sway as if in celebration which i cannot understand squirming with a shrug awaking... when the ick is onserved one must pick out distance to be preserved...i get up and pick lotta to worship and extend the distance from that dream...yet as i do i see froseth pictured with a man eerily like the one in the tuppermarket scene. so the two jakes, jack was right. it never goes away. ps, bring back spy magazine so i can submit the separated at birth photograph of the actor in kiev alongside Abu Mohammed al-Jawlani...or as mellish said, I object, your honor! This trial is a travesty. It's a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham...

meanwhile i have heard the deposed leader is already in moscow, not idaho.
9 december. sunday i somehow sidestepped the loud talk outside and the man yelling super colmado over and over as i had my pizza and settled into blitz with high hopes since i thought the coat song was really special but i can only recomment the soundtrack..cheesier than the pie, it pulls at the audience via emotional traps plus put placing lectures all along the way as if the viewer needed lessons in social studies... it might be the only film to feature a dwarf and still not be worth watching...all mouth and no trousers might well be said of itself... if you look at it closely you'll notice say or see asking herself what the hell am i doing here...the director supposedly wrote it but was it a joke poking at curious george? nobody could write such a thing! of course, we all want a perfect society and equality yet celluloid like this is more dangerous than helpful...if only the producers would now have to take the mta to get around balancing the cost of this corny turkey...they hit all the notes but it still lacks truth and sounds hollow unlike the lead's fine voice. enoch powell is possibly turning over in his grave... i put this all out of mind asap and even managed to get to sleep early yet awoke too soon...i dreamt i was drinking although i don't, there was some argument and i was wearing a scuba diving suit inside a brick walled room that looked like a bunker or basement...i could hear someone screaming like i had during the day and stepped out of slumber wondering how to get back to sleep but wrote this instead... hmm to think i=of it blitz takes place partly in the timeline of stell a life, but there is something exceptional in the german while the english only has that bit of irish magic to hold it together yet even the magical needs a logical poise. there is a moment when she is saved from a falling wall left over from air raid and hopefully this will be manifested in her career. i love say or see but i did not like this fiasco of manipulation and propaganda.
december 10. as i squandered most of my day in the secret spaces of self reflection, fantasy, and escape i started to feel well what hamlet said, i lack advancement...had i never wroted a poem song story novel screenplay...had i never done anything... perhaps it was zen or a sartorial stance...i felt empty as in devoid of motivation...i did need to go out and was confronted by someone telling me he was desperate as one of his something or other needed a pint a blood which he claimed cost a lot... i tried to be polite but i doubt there was any truth in it... as i pondered further, i finally said to myself why am i even contemplating this void within...if it is depression then it should be respected...to lose parts of oneself is no trivial matter and when it happens in slow motion as it is with aunt and mother well there is silent ongoing mourning that cannot be explained...so i held myself together saying there is no need to hurry past this time...i waited for lotta to post but she was at a christmas business party...i kept seeing julia wulf on social media and at some point was even tempted to write a poem for brooke pufky as i thought back to her extreme kindness and how the world could use love like that which instead is focused on her children - but i figure one day those kids will be in the world and it will be a better place because of her...when i talked about that film which baffled me by its lack of logic, i noticed that is was the coin that somehow remained in the hankerchief pocket despite the leap from the moving train and further that there is royalty with that name but i don't want to repeat myself to myself on these matters...i had glanced at silk and butter - some sort of agency - well silk&butter ug and in my dream, well there was this very clear vision of helena pre-dream as i stretched into sleep, lotta saying i never read a poetry book... i was surrounded by several women none of them familiar yet very pretty and well dressed but ravenous especially with the butter, we all had bread but it made me start to scoop up a bit more butter thinking they would leave none for lotta...yes indeed weird given that i gave up purchasing the product being that they want nearly four dollars for a stick and more when it is a a luxury brand meanwhile the domestic variety is simply a greasy disaster...so yeah some prices make no sense, bacon here costs more than steak...i had previously awoken haunted or hunted by words i had said, i wondered if my uncle had died. the thoughts so swift there was no chance to distinguish meaning, for example one of his sons is named michael yet in mind or memory i instead saw kilmer and then thought about how much i liked dylan's version of things we said today...yet all this in milliseconds as i awoke leaving behind whatever it was i had dreamt about... i went back to sleep and got up in the late morning with nothing to report - skirt had two cans of trout friskies yet still pressed me for milk...i think now it is good enough that i slept easy so why worry if i miss a scene from rapid eye movement. i feel so right and logical in this type of thinking because it is true and positively should have no need to prove myself further...ps, cool minute as joan corrects the daily mail over dallas, son volt started playing in mind; looking at the world through a windshield... much better than the warlord killing a hundred ten folks over the voodoo sensation blame or the naked lookalike that was too much emilee grant on the heels of having thought of her wondering if it was a fake...girls, if you snapchat nudes they might end up on amaleaked... or elsewhere - there then now i am going to escape into leftover pizza and the heretic - open letter to hugh; thank you mister mickey blue eyes but please don't give no more cigars to the children or at least consider giving them filtered cigarettes if smoking is the point.
december 11. there are times when even if it feels nothing is going down - or going ahead - there is still or might be a sensation that one is where one is meant to be... that is what i thought watching heretic...which i would have appreciated less before reading robert graves' the white goddess. i don't want to get into religion as the facts can't stand against faith...i do want to wish for a prequel wherein the reed house is decorated and detailed...in any case, this really was like taking a drug and it is possible that i am still high from it. oh wait back to my point about timing, this one is a stretch but allow me to play with the thought...so after my george rant, this picture signals the landlord game which i learn was created to make people aware of georgism... thy letters have transported me beyond this ignorant present and i feel now the future in the instant... please note it is a horror film although the golden globes might tell you later it is a comedy or musical... let me move on, further into now...or then to be precise, i have gone to sleep twice, the first time as i drifted away into what i am terming pre-dream state, i heard a clear bit of conversation where someone was trying to edit a book of mine, it sounded like a suggestion but also like someone pretending to be writing it...pretty upsetting for a writer to ponder if there is a rewrite happening without his consent...who knows? perhaps it was an anxiety from the film...by the way if you stay for the credits you will find the disclaimer that no generative artificial intelligence was used to create this a24 production...i went to work on the cinema list and exceeded my expectations although i have yet to update the synonym site...when i finally got to dreams, i was surprised to see lotta since i usually don't dream of her even if very often in my thoughts and musings...i can't recall the scene exactly yet i remember thinking how beautiful she looked therein as if really seeing her. so bright, so right. i left dreams and felt determined to sort out a meal plan and get the kitchen in order yet i got into this scribble jot note awith coffee and cigarette and suddenly feel like writing a bit more - or at least thinking about putting pen to paper as it were except it is too soon as my horse novel is still being settled and i sense that the white goddess deserves another run through simply to get to missed secrets in the clutter of connections...so many names and myths...wednesday well i have the fuck kill or marry film yet no idea if the kitchen will succeed or what to cook...
12 december. did the kitchen while listening to the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson which i liked more than expected... i found that pretending the cleaning was for someone else made it all easier...as for the film, well you couldn't really call it a film since it was a sort of sitcom where you could tell which places the commercials would go...a strange pilot that puts place a woman in a position to date while a serial killer is hunting dating women...exasperating? well, maybe insane. i felt awful for lucy, it seemed to me she had some success in recent movies and might possibly be sort of upgraded but here she is with motley crew of wanna be leading men which only bring her down to their level...a sort of b-movie straight to video on demand type...i think the popular term now is cringe...i blame the abc seven year run as she ends up with the ags guy a sort of carboard cut out with a beard...yes i know comedy is very difficult to pull off but to not have one good laugh makes it feel as if a hatchet job to sideline ms hale to the ranks of john ritter - southworth - although he did manage to be in bad santa before the end...i'd have to look up what the failed show called life with lucy was about if this were to be an essay...it ain't. still a third film adaptation of THOHH in slapstick style would've made more sense... i mean if you have a split personality comedy/horror then the source material should be something worth it. "Don't do it - Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars, once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again..." see how good that writing is...too good. well, maybe they thought the title was powerful enough, but this was very far from being the tits. my apologies to elisabeth moss for always thinking of her when i think of shirley jackson. now then, the book along with lotta's hello fresh video helped me displace that film, dispose of it as i wondered why there are so few blue cars around... i played my scales and ran through deep elem blues... but got caught up for hours trying to figure out how to judge the death of the last survivor of the kamikaze attack and make it rain in malibu...when i did sleep, i thought i was with lotta yet i am nearly sure it was inka and we were laying upon some road where a stones played we were both singing along but i only heard her voice as i missed some of the words then we walked into a theater, the ancient type i guess you'd call it ampitheater...i awoke then wondering if i had dreamt of williams or stichler...most likely williams who subsequently spoke of the stupidity of people on the roads in baliland...why are the b- shoes so good, bally's - bruno magli - she was featured in an arabian magazine and i am happy for her although the dream sort of baffles me...i have a wish for crocodile shoes now that i have seen them in saks, if only to dance to elton's crocodile rock...lalalalaaaaa... it is not entirely a serious wish, call it a whim... but it is like those overpriced watches, i'd rather spend that type of money on guitars...where was i not strumming in another dream, jennifer is there and i don't think we spoke much except maybe about white boy rick which i liked alot and believe to be a true story if memory serves...it;s noon time or midnight in asia and the lights went out derailing my train of thought which switched to boulder colorado... where that fuck marry kill was set, no wonder the fraternity news said six students had overdosed... disembodied poetics, perhaps it's time to review the burroughs' lucktures from nairopa...craig is getting raves for his performance and i am secretly hoping he will pull the sean connery return stunt somewhere down the line as bond. spies used to be termed ghosts so it might still make sense... meanwhile i am reluctantly going to check out 'emilia perez' not that i listen to hype but so i can see for myself...hey, selena, continued success to you.
13 december. well that was really something out of the ordinary...conversational songs that were not trite for the most part, yeah for the most part there is nothing to complain about here except it did not make sense for a person in hiding, or even simply trying to turn a new leaf, to go into the limelight... but i see how it added tension...so i liked it even if i protest the newsy interviews of the protagonist. cheers or bravo...hmm, i am writing this about an hour after going to sleep...it is still the wee hours but my dream was so weird that it delivered a jolt as it were; there is a gathering of people in the living room and i don't like one of the men there but i go to bed after feeding skirt who was wounded in the scene and i had to lift him up for the plate noticing there a flattened sort of foreleg paw, in my thinking i chalk it up to the kids running around carelessly as it seems there were also children then as if reflecting or foreshadowing itself i get up from bed quickly dressing intent on kicking out the man i dislike, as i dress i can hear mother agreeing to go to the shop and return to cook some sort of meal which she is excited over, i grab the keys and make my way down the hall - on the kitchen counter a record is playing, vinyl, i want to love you night and day it is singing in a doowoop style heavy on the vocals, male vocals, i had been wondering how could i see myself and for a second worried about some recording device in the apartment, i start telling no one in particular that that man cannot be in my house while reaching to shut off the spinning song - i get up shocked that only minutes have transpired...i take out the trash still confused by the crowd in a dream within the place that contains only myself and skirt...the sensation was frightening as i felt it was something urgent yes like blood rushing to the head yet there is atruth contained in it and that is that there are people who i avoid based on some instinct, some perception, some inner wisdom which has served me well. catching my breath as it were, i wonder if robert graves was right that the white goddess will haunt the poet until his muse is properly satisfied... will battle against his distractions and even his wealth to keep the need or desire to exceed his own verses... i listen to another chapter of the haunting of hill house but i am thinking more about lotta than the narrative... a lot more in fact.
14 december. the inclination or inspiration to write is with me yet i pause trying to decide which dream or thought to put place first...first place put the misfits, i had for years wanted to ear it and hear what it would yield, to see it and wear what it would yield...once upon a time, when i wrote the biographical story entitled baptism by desire, i visited a book shop where there was only one tome on clift and where the clerk said why not ask eli wallach...i didn't realize he lived nearby although some time later i saw him while we both walked west end avenue but i was done with the story by then and i'm not one to intrude...but the point is i went into the misfits last night...it's a good time too since back then i would only have thought of clark gable as the gone with the wind character unaware of his past, his genius past - i could say the same for john huston, which would only have registered as prizzi's honor but now especailly after seeing 1960s unforgiven there is a more complete sense of what it means...still it wasn't the men...it was marilyn and it was alot more monroe than say monkey business which is where i saw her last - now all the hoopla makes sense to me and i'm really excited to see the rest of it and to a lesser extent dirty angels... i wonder if this is the one where eva had to go through a lawsuit...i wonder what wild stories john huston told arthur miller on the set of that production...correction i might have recalled that director as an actor in chinatown. sometime before that significant evening for myself, i had a point of confusion as to the brand of jacket lotta wore... in thinking of zara or mango i thought of saramago the scribe of 'blindness' and illustrated the uncertainty in commentized form...i only bring it up because a minute ago the news reports the founder of mango fell off a cliff...for the obvious reason, i thought it weird but also for the fact that i thought mango was by penelope;s sister...night and the middle of the night hours crawled by lazy after a terrbily breezy day...turbo ily shadows while listening to the haunting of hill house...telegraph said cherry hill who would take up to seven years to build toy scale model steam trains had rolled on into what must be an intricate afterlife...theodora is not the easiest name for me to hear... then too the narrator when playing the professor sounds exactly like christopher waltz...listening to the dead play cold rain and snow...i'm going where those chilly winds don't blow... well literally this late morning although still not seeing the sky in dream i had this sensational adventure with lotta as if meeting her at the station, the one in sweden, although she is presently ingermany, yes it didn't feel cold or windy - like a man in a trance enchanted...i awoke amazed and even after the post-rem slumber it remained with me so that i still feel elated...i'm sure you know the feeling wherein nothing else matters much so that for a minute or so life makes sense. i suppose it was the setting since there was only conversation while we made our way around...i've heard it often, location is everything but now i'm a believer. i can't believe west sofia started a gym, well pilates workout place...it's called reform avenue...here's wishing her well...very well then, alexandra seemed to insist on something in my imagination yet i could not decipher it - of course, being me i worry a bit although i know worrying is no help - i now think of ester exposito...yet my instinct was that someone was trying to invade her while pretending to be me as i had not had such a bizarre and forceful series of thoughts...in fact with alexandra it was and hopefully is always extremely pleasant and helpful in the sense that she is the only person to ever make me consider the importance of washing my face...the other day i was shocked at the dirt on the dickinson's witch hazel towel as i scrubbed my mug and thought of her with that oh you were so right in that sense...anyway subsequent to where i was i drifted away from worry which for a second turned bottomless with the previous concern of when her shift shipped her out to deliver a few months ago...yet as i consider it now the contrast of those worries was like night and day...perhaps it was all overthinking yet i certainly felt an undefined pressure as i drifted further away into sleep...i say all this because everyone is important in their right and especially girls need more safety in our illogical meat grinder rat race society...methinks, meanwhile i fully support sonia taking over pinsk and for that matter all of belarus...ah yes, that was the last time i dreamt of the sky. sigh. yes i know too much information but blame the tmi on the swedish dream that is still making me feel magical although i pulled no rabbit out of this convoluted paragraph hat.
15 december. the john huston film from 1960 did not disappoint, in fact i felt it went above and beyond what anyone would have or could expect...my high praise however stems from the inspiration i found in learning about horses...he actually entered a camel race in the middle of directing that movie and came in first place...i think of mia in tracks now which also featured a dog, here it was tom dooley...character from a folk song... well, there was something poetic and poignant as the female lead stood on the plains away from the men calling them murderers as if a ghost of herself foreshadowing her own spirit;s rant upon her death august fourth of the next year...they had wrapped november fourth...i could be a critic against montgomery's performance yet having studied his life and knowing he did suffer a horrific car crash only a few years previous it only made me grimace and in some ways cheer for him even if i didn't feel any emotion other than curiosity from his performance, but i'd expect nerves would have played a part... it was two in the morning euro time and lotta was still editing her video...i went to sleep at three yet awoke at five...i dreamt i was in a bed sideways on the lower side opposite the headboard - there was a girl under the sheets i could not see yet felt like a friend, mother climbed into bed and she tickled her toes until mother covered them then we started holding hands, the girl and myself as mother started to speak about me getting married which led to my wisecrack that tiffany wanted to marry me wherein suddenly i could see tiffany in the city riding a bike, a purse on the handlebars which she was adjusting and this shift in time and space felt entirely natural - i get up to pee in the dream and the girl follows, the house i recognize as aunt's laly old house on castillo 36 - i stand by the kitchen door which i have just opened yet the desire to pee has left me as i look at the view which contradicts location...there was only a guava tree back there yet in the dream housing buildings stood with some windows lit - the locks are interlaced pads and chains and ionly used the bolt leaving the mystery for someone else to figure out - the girl now wants to pee - but other family has arrived, one of them taking the bathroom perhaps for a bath...well shower since there was never a bathtub in that house - i think for a second it's kia jade yet i believe she's taller...we make our way into the front porch where another aunt is dressed in white and red in fact they all were - one of the boys even seemed to be wearing a dress - i say it is like the so-called gypsy roma people and turning away from the sour faced cousin in the dress i start singing here comes the bride heading back inside finding myself between two ladies i do not recognize but one of them is really singing the song in full emotional voice, she reminds me for a second of lotta's mom but i do not know if she can carry a tune actually, in any case i turn to the other lady that i somehow know is a singer and mention how well the other lady is belting it out...i suppose i turn to finally see who i am with but awake in that very moment...moodys downgraded the french credit score and mayotte was battered by a cyclone...although bowie took up most of the space in me that would grieve over the loss of a loved one, as i looked at van morrison and sinead oconner's duet of have i told you lately on the letterman show i could see vm's antics bring out the true sinead and in an instant one understands her contradition which was both shy yet outspoken, nervous yet filled with admiration and desire to bring joy to the world - indeed it was an angel we all lost too soon...so i say to contrast with my thoughts spurred on by the dream as to how much northern land the french side of my family gave up for the sake of not going to paris...or more importantly who were the ones that left it...i miss that house, i miss all the houses that are no longer ours...they were true homes even now in dreams like apartment 3k is and will be...but feeling i went over board writing these notes yesterday i will leave it at that for now.
post-script - well i can't say i entirely understood dirty angels, i mean it starts with eva green being stoned which gave me perhaps too much to think about...from religion to rainy day women...then that bloody shot of her swollen face, this is not the lawsuit film as that was never made, ie the lawsuit she won a few months ago...where was i - ah yes then in uniform - i really liked that - i even started thinking we should all wear military outfits...so an action film and in that sense it was all right...indeed, it kept me watching. my only protest here is the chosen song which leads into the fade out credits...some bland heavy metal which leaves you thinking what song is that...meybe they thought any rock would do to come full circle with the thrown stones at the start...yes i am glossing over the importance of the political side but one peek at the news will tell you how timely it is...i haven't heard of any upcoming eva green projects yet i hope there are some soon. meanwhile i have secured 'maria' yet it all seems so quick; it really feels like a few days there was an article with angelina jolie in oversized glasses that said she was filming... how could it be cut and edited and released so swiftly... i went to sleep again after viewing lotta's vlog and i was very happy to see her so full of joy...my dreams flew by in a flash and i awoke to an even happier lotta which made me update the landing page at inkrealm.info... skirt has, after clawing through the leather kitchen chair, taken to hanging out on the dining table...so will i be eating in bed? he's already used up the chair part of the ottoman set and now rarely takes to it...like a playboy except it's furniture instead of women...this was an unexpectly eventful sunday - well it still is, even in european hours there are three left, while here there are seven or eight left...
16 december. i viewed 'maria' however i don't want to write about it...it tells so many stories all at once while actually reincarnating the voice of callas and vividly revealing the isolation that goes hand in hand with fame, (although some might argue that her hallucinations were due to drugs) that to speak of it even in praise could not serve it. it was early morning in asia when i went to sleep exhausted for no specific reason other than perhaps oversleeping...my thoughts curved between lotta and lauren sophia...i dreamt i was walking home, yet the new york city version, checking the mail where rows of mailboxes were missing as i went into the other side finding some old people with no answer as to why it was like that...glass door sassy woman looked me over as i walked upstairs...key at the door turning as a man approaches intent on talking about some concert it seemed he knew i had gone too as well, not so many russians this time, he smirks and i say nothing and i still remain silent as he insists on entering until i push him out and start to shut the door...marian is inside and somehow this seems normal to me...two of her friends then knock on the door and tell me their names, i repeat the names to her and she says she doesn't want to be with them, i take it that she is tired and relate the message offering to pay for their taxi...marian gives me an 828 number and they give me an address in queens...for a minute the scene settles into only us yet quickly turns to us walking in a part od town that is a cross between the village and central park west...for some reason lotta is now with marian and showing her some kind of way to walk, i suppose it is something models do...they seem to get along better than with me...i am sort of pleased and happy that they are happy as i walk up central park west, then lotta climbs up on me from behind making me go into a run and there i am running yet a few strides in i feel her leg and notice she is not wearing shoes...this starts to wake me and i get up with my touch having got to her thigh... i am thinking of L'amour est un oiseau rebelle and how she mentioned two girls had showed up in dusseldorf and perhaps that was what the dream was about but i am not certain what she meant, that is, it was german and it seemed to imply fangirls or some recognition from what i understood...as i think of it more i suppose she is concerned over the meeting tomorrow promoting hejgreta...i know iwould be as a lot of company's make these events without too much thought about security... i remember being shocked at lara taking a taxi and making her way through the street and crowd to get to one... hmm, or worse lila wearing wings in midtown manhattan struggling through pedestrians along with other models... and those were big name fashion houses that could surely afford something better for their girls...oh wait this has gotten into an overboard groove and in technical terms it is still yesterday here although lunch time in asian cities.
17 december. in a dream i seem to have gone out with only a blanket swirled around my body and for some reason i walk into a bakery shop or is it more correct to call it a pastry shop...i thought about that pierre shop in wagen...it would take me while to see all the pretty places i want to experience in germany...my cousin would often awake like that, with the blanket instead of clothes...a modern day linus without the piano or thumb sucking...i myself have raced to the ringing phone dressed like that but only to not stand naked in the living room...i decided to disregard the constant flow of news although i did take a stand on djerf wondering why women are trying to tear down a woman that carved out a place for herself in an impossible atmosphere... give em hell, matilda...yes this is partly because lotta likes that fashion but also i don't like the trial without due process or jury...that being the case i wont commentize on venom the last dance since i missed the second film of that movie trilogy...where was i...ah yes so i got a lot done even trimmed my toe nails...no news isnt good news yet it leaves a bit more space for self...i did glance at the wisconsin situation twice given that the star of that sitcom was named natalie samantha rupnow, a woman, well, a girl...amazing...i had not heard of female mass murderers...massage place with that name 2053 Detlor Rd, L'Amable, ON K0L 1C0, Canada... dennis thomas rupnow passed away 28 october '23, david ernst rupnow 4 january '22...not a common name but several other obits - not sure if any relate to her...a kid in the second grade telephoned the report to authorities...honda made the nsr500 until 2002...there are at least two agencies with the abbreviation of NSR...i will peek later to see if anything more might be said over this tragic or sad turn of events...such a nice place, madison wis... wish dream resulted in weird dream as mother was here again having let in some people that moved things around and so i argued until things were in place then in the balcony an old man had put an even older woman in a sort of brenda lien call of cuteness cat sock and i put both out into the staircase all the while asking who was who as the man responded...salami people the size of plantains...a lot of it in spanish so i suspect the result of an onlooker...my right foot in a slow painful spasm as if i had actually been racing around putting the place in order...she keeps saying she gets up thinking she is here or that she has dreamt about being here...i had no idea i was such a pleasant host...i do have an idea that printing these notes looks as if it were writing yet it is not...it's not that i am not considering readers, no, it is more like what i do with musical scales...a ritual except here there's nothing to contain a random thought and dreams well, dreams are what they are...hopefully as might be the case in mastering notes, these unedited paragraphs will serve as a base or starting point for other projects... i'm not promising, only saying. that being said, i will try to be more concise down the line.
31 december

dream at one of my machines - there is an alert to review and back up files...i suppose the obituary people are all upset as they were about to wrap the year in a bow never as goodly as paris hilton red -there goes the grand theft president! not that i didn't think he'd been long gone for a while now - not that i didn't think highly of him - not as highly as willie nelson smoking roof - men in atlanta tryin' to pass for...four in the morning, mourning? azer - kor - eth...deadly week and to ship a gretsch from amazon cost the self same price as the axe - i ask how...well nevermind, no reference to nirvana...the albino was julian, libido was electric guitars, mosque- toe must;ve been some cousin i kissed - no i could not entirely escape the newsy escapades -hmm gl maketh espada hh... i made a list of wish guitars, not that one...well then it seems i have a lot of proverbial ground to cover since sexy and seventeen...how many days was that - that was days many how...now i am not sure how to skip into the start, to slide into the past while keeping an eye on the future... oh yes obviously, i augmented the scale exercise with two new ones...which is what i wanted to do upon waking but i was running out of space on the jot pad where upon i scribbled notes to make way for this passage - let's see... in no particular order - lotta dream conversation except i saw her here at the foot of my bed - i recall stringing out a joke which may have been politically incorrect well racist to simplify matters, and suddenly she punched me in the belly... i get up in between a smile and confusion...no confusion over the order - a film that exceeds itself...i think the crucial point, aside from the amazing king craft on display and the several shocks especially if you happened to know bm, is that the white power movement has been so silenced as to make it perhaps more alluring in that reverse psychology manner that often works its way through irony i guess - when speaking about it i automatically equated what could potentially be a martyr in that movement with the genocide of native americans, how is the day of the rope any different from the goal of the calvary... well, i digress but back then i got to thinking about the whole jew blood libel hype...i wondered how could a 'thing' like that be sustained on mere whispers? i had to come to my own conclusions which i will retain away from the arena of these notes for the sake of fairness or at least to give myself time to actually consider any contradictions in my logic - i do have a theory, but we can all agree it is a sensitive and rare matter...well, done i say to myself in secret feeling i have covered the pros and cons of the bases...standing on the plate i pitch myself a dream rib eye steak like i used to have with anya -there is a bare ass girl which i don't think i have seen in dreams - yeah usually it's the front side...i woke up thinking of miss mcderby bending over extremely near what was my school face then she turned with a blushing smile sorry to which i think i only raised eyebrows grin like it's nothing to me hell i was not even reminded of being birthed...back in the dream a girl is moving on the bed in snake fashion and suddenly pill prescription bottles are going into her upwards where the sun don't shine - yes i have lived a couple of lifetimes simply wandering about myself around myself at the end of twenty twenty four, it already feels like forty years in the desert, some of the jottings don't mosey along, same school the principal says that type of handwriting means you are cheap...i spend other lifetimes giving gifts to complete strangers to prove him wrong...more recently going in the opposite direction...mr prohartchin... one of the books i poured into my ear...still not sure if there was a sister in law or not, knots memory alivia like a flash bulb leading me to dream that emilee is pulling worms from her herself as i hesitate to use the word pussy - well they looked more like roots one might find in the ground...it haunted me some...i wondered if it had anything to do with re-reading notes from underground... not what i remembered or possibly my state of mind is more content for i thought the second part was hilarious..."simonov was positively surprised at my turning up"...not the putting down of liza... it was my second or even third dream recently of miss grant and i'd been thinking it was like saying simonov aloud might make one think it's semenov so that lotta's sibling being emil, which once anyway sounded to me like email, might make for this dream irony...obviously sound makes a difference, it struck me last night as the 'colmado' exterior voiced resounded and then returned that the root cannot tell which way it will go...el colmado question mark buzz no buzzer but shout it out loud...even thinking of it now derails the writing - twilight zone - ah yes i even dreamed of a delivery but that was pizza as if watching it from the porch looking down onto the avenue...dear putin please win but don't bomb lviv as west sofia has set up a pilates place therein...party scene large house or hotel suite girl with me entwined just like that other sitting dream huh yeah somewhere yet herein i get up notice a room full men laying on the floor all erect like the dead kennedy poster come to life with hard ons reaching for something, for someone ? i continue into another bedroom and i see tom with several women on the bed motions me to join i rest there with the entwined girl you would say it is weird but i will awake and explain that i had viewed rock of ages - back in the dream i get up and head to the kitchen where i start eating rice but more is cooking the blonde is serving - some plates have beans...i think of one of my lyrics "uptown they like their rice frijolin"...i forget which song its from when i rise from the dream i feel dirty yet also concerned over suri...not yet making the connection to the movie with the monkey...well there were several other films too, best one was the german 'sleep' - storm over lisbon was mediocre yet in parts memorable, idiot;s delight...early clark gable, over the top peace protest yet a haunting ending...anora i felt was cheap in contrast to all souls...btw that was an excellent font in the end credits...really cute kid in that making her debut...here's wishing her well. no easy transition from child actor to actor if that is or will be the case...very few guitars come with cases - some people in a dream are mourning phil - i try for empathy not having much room for defining the meaning after bowie...i bow to inka baffled by the following dream...the huffing and puffing is real...no flashing lights in my eyes - she's next me like some sort of magic spell, telling me she loves me - we are smoking a joint that is weed i wonder over the saliva not knowing if it was her or me...a song is playing far away, 'just the way we used to' which i had not heard before - the time before i looked her up seeing she had just arrived from a trip...was i tripping, in another dream yes one of the flights leaves at one thirty and i suppose i am trying to make it yet i meet a girl in a hotel twice then waking up before flying - mother continually repeats that she dreamt she was here with me and the cat - after dozens of times i dream of her with dalva visiting, i am holding a bottle of bailey's irish cream - father at the door with some stranger i push them both into a corner easily as they are drunken...i ask mom to select the goblets for her drink, in the cabinet i see gold trimmed snoopy glasses - i seem to be in a hurry - i get up feeling someone is trying to kill me, not paranoid but feeling pushed into the land of the deceased...twice dreamt aunt's house...weird man 'interviewing' mom...i had been reading haunted hill house and i felt the prose falter here and there yet as it concluded i recalled one of my cousins had a house in a place called portal which holds a bit longer pronounciation outside of english...anyway i can't say that place was haunted but there certainly was some sort of possessive spirit...it took hold of dad once upon a time and most memorable was the instance which it took hold of that cousin in question...he awoke driving in his underwear entirely beyond sleep walking, slumber driving...i mean if it happens to one person you'd argue what it was but as it transpired to a couple of people a couple of times...well, shirley jackson's fiction cannot be simply defined or dismissed... indeed the very story led then to binge watching the veil which i do not hesitate to recommend - neat blazing action sequence akin to slow horses...intense. as if in a spy world and isnt it? i also binged on liaison but one of the characters reminded me of the train station slasher which made me uneasy although i will say that every once in a while i felt as if i was actually in france for the way the city was presented...in separate scenes i was viewing dance videos but picking at my skin as if mucus from nose with a sense of disgust and then worry that i was being watched...pretty news lady friendly in the maria luisa manner...it's been too long since i;ve been in italy - pasta with her felt divine - other self dream found me staring at my face but liking that my eyes didn't look so puffy...cure for bags...sunglasses...please don't hit me lotta...dream of lotta showing me pictures in a slide motion like one scrolls on social media except these were none of the ones i've seen her post...dream again simply standing in front of me - i suppose i would share my olives with her...olivia led me to india which led me to 'look away' an above average reel with a very clever maria/airam mirror image angle...of course she is awful pretty so i would have to see it again to say anything as i kept thinking how beautiful sometimes or how she looked too young for such an extreme film - i suspect she was twenty two or so but looked twelve in some places...previously bizarre uncle and other cousin dream where there is talk of radames being dead, i only have a vague idea of who that might have been and none as to his living status...it's an apartment but past the hallway which i traverse having to squeeze by a man i do not know, perhaps radames...there is a cash register without buttons yet opens with all the usual components and cash more like euros than dollars...there seems to be no system to it...it seems to be about a bag of cement... there is a white car outside right at the entrance door... years ago i seem to have a notion that there was a joke equating cement with semen...i thought then it was merely the sound like word play...when i heard men speak of it, then much more recently i connected cement with a more devious connotation as in a woman being cemented which i figure could have several meanings and is not well not that i know of related to walks of fame squares... speaking of squares...boxes, in guitar search aftermath i dream beatles, well paul possibly - but then a sort of warehouse with hundreds of them...a couple of guys are throwing them down below...i doubt anyone has ever counted how many guitars exist...no walrus - i will be thanking kramer next month...i thank my muses now dear me only a few hours before it's twenty five in asian cities meat i made it so good but the next day it tasted like alpo...switzerland is my bucket list, i'm not really upset at juliette...i thought ralph was on point in the return - like a slow poem that spins a wicked wisdom...why did i return to these notes now, well in case ms haas asks over my vision board...i didn't want my club sandwich christmas to be a point of discussion- afire, well no i didn't like that one. although it made me realize i didn't know what oncology meant...it only reminded me of the old timer bullies that made you say uncle while stepping on some part of your body...oh wait in that wormy roots dream there was a very specific stereo the type with two big speakers on either side...music coming from it like u2 but i hear my voice...a bit low on the mix it seemed while trying to tempt other versions via the equalizer...'we are one but we're not the same'...sequence prayer for Beate Zschaepe - i still believe she was railroaded. in a dream with another german i awake partly alarmed by the words 'grave foundation'...i am going to spend the last day of the year with the phantom for park so dam... 너도 새해 복 많이 받아
1 january

2025. so damn happy i picked that so dam film...it was magnificent. taking its time with twists and turns then bringing it all back home with bang...i made a lipton noodle thing a bit concerned over the amount of salt - last time it was too much, but i got it so right that for the first time ever there were no leftovers in the pot...yum. i don't really have any dream to report, i think i dreamt of one my aunts but i did not retain the facts... it's still six in the morning here but i've done everything i wanted to do for the day...in terms of scales and updating the film list...i have an inclination to tidy up the kitchen and should get to that although it is no way to kick off the new year... let's see how that goes...wednesday huh... well, in case anyone cared to know; my guitars of choice are the ibanez roadstar and martin acoustic, i have a classical model which have not met and the kramer now on the way... my wish ones are the gretsch...i thought maybe the nick 13 but it has a drawing on the pick guard along with extra letters on the top so i crossed that out but still one of the g5s is what i'm thinking...then one of the schecter's which i like actually for the back of it... further away are the reverend flying v and the gibson voodoo v...i'm attracted to some eastwood models, and finally flaxwood which is a finland maker that has nice telecaster types and something called laine series...i've had fenders in the past but i don't think i am willing to pay for one at this point...i like the john 5 signature series as well the the triplecaster put out with jack white but for that kind of money i would opt for a 90s bc rich...well i will leave it at that since i find i can easily spend hours simply looking at pictures of guitars and if i carry on there will be no chance for the kitchen clean up. cheers. ps, honorable mention goes to high spirit's Shadow Hawk - Blonde, Milwaukee Guitar Company Chief 317 Prototype, & Potvin's Super Bee S-Style...
2 january

i think i might like the deadwood guitar co model called the revival yet i hesitate to list it... i'd have to see if they provide cases like voodoo custom guitars...the kitchen was more or less done except for the dishes in the fridge... i got up around midnight wondering if i should put place that music man axe i like along with the others or even the carry on blackstar which has a star on the headstock that reminds me of bowie and heineken...uhm the mm is the st vincent model...although bilt's ultra zaftig might be a nicer choice...by the way if you are wondering how i find certain types; instead of searching for a general return of guitar makers - which will only bring up the main and cheap brands - you search for guitar makers in a specific location... city or state and you will be pleasantly surprised. i think i figured out my conflict with the enigmatic and arabic scale...i simply have to call the latter the byzantine and then it is not so confusing somehow. i played the twenty scales, repeating some of them a few times for fun and to memorize since i only have learned nineteen of them...given that it is still the middle of the night i go back to bed - in my dream i then awake in apartment 3k...i am alone there and worried since other people have access...i am thinking of barricading the door but then notice belkis cooking a ton of food - she is asking me something about rice but i say i don't know what to say while wondering how she who has never been to new york is there...i take out the trash and see skirt by the elevator but when i go to pick him up, it's a mirage...should i say hologram...hmm...i open the compactor which is nearest to three d - there is a wood slab preventing the opening of the shute - i remove the slab and see the bearded man that used to live there walking away - i notice there are things scattered around this closet like space that i want and start to put them into a bag - a handsome woman appears with thin lips talking about the movie and i have an exact memory of what she means but not when i saw it or if it was with her - now the cat is really in the hallway and i chase him inside...i myself go in seeing a huge red wok shaped cooker but covered and the pot steaming...it is where the fridge should be and i awake again as the three o'clock hour nears... i have a certainty that father's spirit is in that apartment, the place i called home longer than any other - otherwise i can't decipher this scene...or perhaps it is too early for critical thinking.
4 january
very attracted to the gretsch rancher. which made me consider acoustic models...however, at this point i'm locked in with my martin and the only "popular' models i would consider otherwise are the gibsons...i know some people may not comprehend the enthusiasm over instruments...like that dream - which in reflection i reasoned out via word play, ie; kelvis did live a long while in our house and visited a few times before that so it might have been about him - that is the letters of his name nearly match belkis - to clarify without the burden of too much explanation; one is a cousin and the other a maid...having not mentioning them previously in these notes, i thought it should be stated. looking at the image of the radical jabbar, no relation to the great kareem abdul, i got goosebumps over the resemblance to the man in three d...in an icky way...i feel it's frightful and i don't like the way the american year is starting... the las vegas truck bomber ? there's a woman fleshing out fearful scenarios in fast words...which is fine, except people are listening, some even agreeing...so there's paranoia in the air...i had felt that W and cheney had secured the states yet i see now that that might have been my immaturity wishing - is there a group intent on derailing the return of rightful rule and kennedy... ask not what your country can do...at this point i can only dot the i over my suspicion. now then, the enthusiasm; well it's like this - someone buys a flying v and minutes later he starts searching through more pictures of guitars and gets into an argument with himself...i will not admit openly to him being me, but later i thought about the graduation ring...how i wanted a green gem but they all said blue...the guitar in question was mint green...a lighter shade than the cadillac green...if it was myself, i most likely opted to wait a few months and in terms of color, well i was settled on something white or silver. i didn't recall any dreams and skipped jotting these notes - then last night, i clearly dreamt that a woman had positioned herself upon me, she had a woven strip of lace lightly lashing out from her mouth as if unraveling, reeling downward, naked, she undid my pants and put her straddle side on my genitals, when i looked down there was a frothing liquid chalk pouring out of her, i was not yet erect yet thought i was ejaculating and awoke thinking of alexandra and ester who reminds me of alexandra - the scene brought to mind the memory of doris scratching her eyeball with her nail which i had seen pre-dream weeks ago - it always struck me as unusual and i wonder why i never asked if her eyeball was itchy...it also made me remember the stranger pre-dream of lotta's necklace being drenched in semen...i noticed she stopped wearing it and to some extent made me worry - i think it was some time after frankfurt - i notice too a shift in feeling, nearly an absence since xmas. it may all of course be my surroundings, even sorrow instead of snow...a secret cat fight that i am not entirely privvy to - oh the pitfalls of worship... long sigh, hmm, so after he gets the flying v he thinks to put place a shirley sticker on it... we have always lived in the castle...decisions, decisions... words i can't ever pronounce right...ennui... i read the daemon lover and heard her voice... it is near to sylvia plath's tone... i re-watched shirley and understood it a bit more... i also read her short story paranoia not knowing it was unearthed much later...2013...she had put it to pen in 1965...feeling the literary buzz, i packed up a few books i wanted to find or finish, to keep to the point i will only mention here the letters of shirley jackson...i don't expect anything as witty as ezra pound or as interesting as william burroughs but once i get through hangsaman i expect to be pleasantly surprised...uhm hangsaman is the novel she is working on in the film...in terms of my own work, i have only been moved to consider a romance story involving carol jean and del lamb - going backwards from the end and ending at the camelot hotel in tulsa honeymoon after the nixa church of christ wedding...mrs lamb passed away on the 22nd of december, they were married over half a century - of course with all the guitars in my thoughts, i don;t expect that a fictional version of her story will go further than thought for now...i listened to all the available versions of deep ellem blues in preparation to record my own.
6 january

i get up a quarter past midnight making it nearly six in the morning in sweden...i swear it was a very strange sunday...i had got up early with a dream wherein there was a woman here upon my bed enticing me into making love...there was a cock ring but it was more like a strap as the type worn for testitcles i suppose - i have the feeling it is rafaelina yet i have not heard or thought of her in years...it is not exciting as we try two positions and as i awake perhaps sensing the oncoming weirdness- of course i overthink the matter and it takes a couple of hours of contemplation...yet the weather was brilliant, crisp...nearly cold - i knew lotta was going back home and viewed her glow up video perplexed by her tanning ritual- still not as perplexing as ripley which i saw almost hating andrew in it yet with a heightened sense of emotions as if i somehow identified with the character...maybe this was due to the fine cinematography...the series is shot in grainy greyscale...i watched it for dakota except there wasn't enough of her in it...later in the curio sunday i watched the watchers which had a lot more fanning...anyway the glowy thing took me into the noon hour...i felt removed from myself as if one walking in a daze...somehow i settled my sexual excitement and played through all the scales... i did this standing suddenly understanding that i don't need to look at the fret in most cases but also seeing that at least one of the new ones got muddled by not being seated...the cool weather made breathing much easier...olives and a sandwich along with the movie...lotta arrived and for a minute there i nearly felt content - well, happy- even if i had spent most of the time searching through guitars to buy or not to buy...to bebop or to beatnik what is the question...i made a wish for a nice time for the actors at the ceremony although i hadn't really thought about it since jodi was put up for honors... i chose to return to sleep but that was delayed by someone yelling outside nearby...i raced to reach a point where that sound and its associated trauma could not reach me...is it always illegal to kill a nuiscance? coffee cigarettes and sprite and i went into dreamland especially thanks to lotta - well the thought of her which now came with dakota... as i thought back to viking days...in my dream i am in a hotel intent on saving a girl, she's child like and men are bullying her, they even have her naked and i manage to manuveur her away...it was then sensual yet in some experimental way as if she were a doll or an artificial intelligence embodied... we saunter in the escape and reach the railway station - a heavy set man in triplicate surrounds me as i see her walk in front and further away - i think of gerard but i do not feel small or even skinny as he holds my arm, perhaps my shoulders...i only think why are there three of him...i awake but only to snuggle myself into further dreams - as i type now i half worry that lotta might read these notes and mistake some of the thoughts herein for intent...i also wonder if it was kelvis that took my assistant commissioner police pin - in any case i am glad of taking notice of pre-dreams by which i mean those last fading thoughts that don't always make sense or even contradict my own ideas... i suppose the problem with the day was merely lack of restful sleep...hopefully this excursion into dream worlds will solve that jigsaw puzzle - in scenes that now fade as if never been, i recall some talk of jedi...it's only that i am still getting over the irony of such a lovely day without the sounds of colmado or avocado fruit vendors still being crashed into by some other shouting...well, i was either finally alone in three k or in conversation with lotta as my feeling felt a sort of completion...in the struggle to recall, there was a moment where something had to be paid but i didn't have any cash on me not even my wallet when suddenly - i think it was two hundred euros - a woman pulls out a stack of what must have been ten or twenty thousand euros and peels away a couple of the bills put placing them on the counter to my astonishment. maybe it was three hundred since that would match with the earlier fat man frenzy...the driver carries no cash - i now have this stash of guitar price knowledge... i believe i am done searching but i would never have guessed how addictive well that is not the right word, how entertaining it is for me to look at electric guitars...i nearly want to have another look at only lovers left alive, but having seen it a couple of times already i can play and pause it right in my mind's eye. yeah funnel of love could be the soundtrack for scrolling through the six string instruments.
december 8

bowie sarah polley elvis day and it seems i was never told it was also kreiger and bassey day...a minute ago i was thinking of the mistaken lilia instead of my lilia as it is also her day...and how the date came to hold meaning for me in the first place...nora makes james spill the goods...i didn't dream yesterday and today i dreamt so clearly of emilee dressing and kissing me that i thought i was not dreaming - of course lotta's middle name is emilie and when i awoke i had to confront myself with a sort of weighing the matter...i ate most of an orange with sugar right away...do i say to me that miss grant is calling me or that snowbound lotta's name creates this irony...most ironic was pig, as the vice president of the nick cage south american fan club, although i should be promoted, the film is extremely informative if one cares to pay attention...i wasn't in the right mind set...the swine's face reminded me of alexandra and she is interested in acting but it was the only time i felt that except when i used to hang out with a sibling of some narcotic agent...to think of it now he died in a car crash and she had a close call driving recently...i write it extemporanously and with the hope that it voids future incidents when she is at the wheel... so portland is three hundred years overdue for the thing i will not mention...whoa, nell has not posted in a year, i do hope no one has put placed a pony up daddy saddle on her...nicole mentioned woman under the influence and although i myself dislike boxd-letter, i went to see it. the line "i'm not a spaghetti man" sticks with me somehow. i couldnt get the right voice and speed to enjoy hangsaman as an audio book so i eyeballed it which is much faster yet actually slower given my inclination to postpone or procrastinate not to mention the natural distractions that occur when it is not an actual paperback or hardcover...or it could be that i yet feel the white goddess was not entirely learnt...no, not as intense as finnegan's wake yet i want to gain as many details as i might...still, life keeps moving like a wildfire consuming the spaces with red hot burning replacements... so as to even make social media scrolling logical to some extent...i found it highly interesting that jean-marie passed away on the day i failed to secure the agspalding pen i wanted when the topic came up as i forgot my own notion of waiting to get it later on...i did get a waterman which was on sale...i believe they are french, no less...i believe i like mr magoo but i have no clue how he came up in conversation with mother...she liked the clip but i was told she did not have patience for the film...i thought it was wonderful... 1001 arabian nights - actually an ancestor; abdul aziz magoo sells lamps and his lazy nephew is aladdin...i mean come on there are even three little maids from damascus... to circle back to the thin white duke, aladdin sane not only had the jean genie but also panic in detroit...the lions have me expecting them to go all the way after the pounding they gave minnesota last sunday...i am trying to keep calm...anyway i picked out the format for deep elem and plucked through a few ideas but i don't seem to be in a hurry about it. i suppose you could see that as confidence or an addiction to hesitation. happy birthday, everyone. nobody should feel so crowded with things to do...i run through the ideas (shave, clean kitchen, make a meal, receive the incoming delivery...groceries, take a bath, give up on the idea of fender and esp guitars, well, perhaps not some vintage models, scale ritual, start the recording process for that blues song i want to cover, update film list, take care of skirt, call mother, and avoid the news while hoping los angeles makes it through what can only be called a walking inferno) of course instead i avidly search the news and then take a nap... pre dream i felt no stability as if a face dance... at least they were faces i liked...it's too bad no beautiful girl ever feels as pretty as they look - mostly they think it is make up or that their lips are too thin or something...suddenly i am excited to be asleep...i was fully expecting to see lotta's mother as she had been on my mind upon waking but i was actually in some european town...like portugal i imagine or some hybrid place further north... there is a girl that approaches me, somehow she knows i am thinking of lotta, oh she's cheating on you, i don't say anything and continue sauntering until i see her at a dead end street leaning against a silvery grey wall with some guy i do not know and i near ironically looking at him not her and i say not what i am thinking meaning he is wearing feathery earrings going in fact for a compliment and then walking away without speaking to her reaching the corner there is an alleyway the type one finds in chinatown places where a woman in the type of hat which would be more akin to the 1930s or 1940s although less so floats into the walkway upon which point i decide to follow the anachronism and also to run yet halfway into my getaway lotta is holding on to me and then drags me into some type of mall that i can only describe as modern wherein she seems intent on proving herself to me...she keeps repeating that she wants to be there because they are giving away something or other - the last word i saw her use was lustig - it had that sound but it was another word - i do not ask what she means possibly still annoyed at her being with the bloke with the earrings - i notice an extended family and a baby - i ask to experience the scene with me which she does and it does not feel weird to sort of snuggle inbetween these fat women looking down at the child - there are to older children next to me and i ask about the kid's name, his name is neptune you should say hi to him with his name, i step over to where lotta is and see that in the meanwhile they have given her coffee and i go along with the hello instructions and the baby waves as if he really likes his name and then lotta leads me to a cafe but its one without seats so we go horizantal into one of the booths laying down me first then her in front of the waitress who immediately settles down a very fine and crisp looking salad so i suppose the word meant salad - salat, feldsalat, not certain yet i take a close look at the waitress as i write this now i want to say julia stiles yet the character was more like ginnifer goodwin - in contrast to the guy i actually can't memorize her face as i notice her undoing the lace of her collar well choker i think they call them above a very sheer uniform blouse that was sorely in need of a bra as the sight of nipples and petite breasts once again made me realize that indeed for men titties are like the sun then awaking feeling nearer than ever to lotta yet not exactly sure what the dream meant or if the lettuce was any good - i thought later perhaps it meant that she has the notion that those are the type men like or something...although i don't think she is insecure and so i won't augment the thought with adding words about her cuteness besides what if there is or was an affair...or even the manipulation of emotion to provoke my jealousy after i put placed westsofia77's project on the home page...who knows, i do know it is next to impossible to balance the likes and loves...usually i dive deep into the situation and neglect everything else save for coffee and cigarettes, yet now i am reluctant to give in to expectations or jump to conclusions, much less make demands or disregard all the whatever it is i need to get done and so it goes.
january 9

correction like the sun...for myself it would be like the rain. on second thought the waitress might have been india... that would make sense...i felt a sort of magic or synchronicity in the list as i placed shanghai express after phantom as it was the film playing in the fictional movie house...i had an entirely different idea for what would follow yet i could not find it and obviously this way even makes more sense - i also viewed that film again - noticing the peiping sign and the watch, a flintridge...it has a flip cover which one can still get yet it has become an uncommon style...anyway it isn't a movie about writers yet there are several written messages which qualifies it for the list...after having only soup and bread, the big meal made me sluggish...so much so that leaning into the twenty scale ritual i was surprised - pleasantly, at my own enthusiasm which i suppose was enhanced by now feeling i got them down...i found out leighton was one of the victims of the wildfires, well her house, but the knowledge came along with finding out she was married and has a couple of children...so in rifling through memory the emotions were varied as if they wanted to contradict themselves...what i think now or wonder is if she still writes music...there was not much music in my mind save for a zorn tune...zip, why is it zip code...hmm...gotta look that up...questions i never asked...quickly i embraced the idea of lotta in pre-dream as i pondered over dean and schecter guitars...you gotta see the eastwood guitars tiktok...extremely entertaining if you like me like simply looking at guitars...the guy from bizarre reno is also cool although he seems a bit too enchanted by old fenders and gibsons... seen the maestro series...but everyone says they are not worth it...now then dreams...two men stood by a truck, one peeing into mid-air as if trying to wet a woman standing across from him...this again was a scene in which i felt i was a viewer instead of a participant to some extent - as the truck pulls away, i see that lilia is in the back, i call to her to get out of the truck as it speeds away...i kept dreaming easier locations and sensations mostly with lotta who got some of the snow cleared... anyway none of these moments, perhaps for being so casual kept themselves in the waking mind...i did think how hard it must be for her to work through the fine line of being herself while fencing off the once in a while weird multitudes wanting her to be something else...i suppose models and actresses might relate to being in that positions - as i awoke, the scene had me facing a very powerful woman, i thought it might be an actress but that may only have been due to the fact that i love cinema so...anyway entirely different from my jean harlow silk dream, here the woman was adamant - there's nobody like me that will make you feel so fine, or was it good... and there i was under a spell of sorts even bowing down the way one does when knighted by royalty... except my penis was gushing pee through the erection as if the entire evening was scripted or someone was trying to make me wet the bed...yet aside from the number one, i felt there was some truth in it that was told therein...i don't know who she might be however...i know that i mentioned some pre-dream similar to all this and perhaps someone reading it was making it out to be what i never intended...i mean yes i did "see" that but i remember carlos cracked up on cocaine as we stood at west end urinals suddenly turning to me and peeing on the lower part of my right leg...so i don;t think any one wants to be peed on and i certainly don't want to pee on nobody...the pre dawn air is cool i can hear jim singing 'passion lady give up your vows...save our city ah right now'...i'm not having an ale but i am already high on love...very much so...meaning i adore me and i like exploring that self adoration with lotta even in times when i cannot recall what the dream said.

-----------------------------------------------
nine ten eleven;


fire ember works carried by wind's breeze

wild los angeles brought down to its knees

drug bring out the now no water glowing

crime to any with an above stop-buck knowing

i aeroplanes last forever: my song;

active like a barking -every hog- dog gone!

Pack up, the stars are not wanted now; tits,

crowd remains; the front porch just streets.

Around that time subsided by evacuated.

a dismantled sun walking while pouring red

cotton telephone ringing the number wrong

gloves was I scale moon sweep up the guitar; long

longing all the clocks cut was my mood.

good doom the juicy bone silence of piano coffin wood -

let the mourners come into smoke filled air semen...

noir ink he chose to gather at wear then

the housekeeper's daughter as ash fell hen

headless the firetrucks stood bows round the necks

until the last talk goes politics my South wrecks

my East retreating North up most Westerly

news idled among a kitchen of voices wickedly

so he won't do nothin' except this scribbling

on the sky a public glimpse of I said. wishing

place. my noon is an asian midnight and a swedish dusk snowing

trickled down disfigured chaos described

that catch a circle moaning as overhead dream died

muffled? ever? nothing! - nobody asking why

so much for zone improvement plan sigh

dateline berlin 1945 thought, that love

away, the ocean, and just think above;

kali for knee ah tumbles into the see

winter storm blair Wolverine up to Annandaley

so still time for a steely dan earthy quake?

we imagine logic itself writhing in an ache

never was such an award season so seasoned

january tsunami? don't even ponder it! it could be worsened

where ember woes cried by sad breeze's wind bells wail wit,

a messy devastation still dancing like a killer wood tell it.

(between father's remains in church and mother's "can't swim"

the days don't beatnik count! here was my poetic whim)

--------------------------------------------------------------
9 january

i somehow stumble dream into a department store yet i cannot find the right exit, wandering around a woman with thick legs grabs me as if a friend then we dance - i can feel her press against me as if teasing the penis resting at her thigh - she seems to know that i am trying to get somewhere, to get home and we walk out of the place into an avenue of darkness, she is walking ahead of me, heading to her car and i am asking if she is really going to give me a ride when unlocking the door with a guffaw she slides into the vehicle leaving me without a clue as to where i am or how to get home - i remember asking someone at the shop which is the exit that leads to bella vista...a scene later said some sort of argument with a man insisting on something or other yet somehow wound up with a ruined right foot, his valet stopping their ride in its track as he howled in pain, getting out and flicking away the two remaining toes onto the road carelessly...i wake up wondering how i can see this or why i am interacting with people that don't like me and i surely don't like...i get up and adjust the los angeles lament a bit, thinking i wrote it too hurriedly and it could be improved somehow even if i know the main point must hit the emotional place no one wants to speak of like a bolt of lightning...i hope its quiet today as the intrusive talk disrupted my inclination to record...i suppose wearing headphones to get through my own kitchen experience would do it otherwise - maybe these dreams bordering on nightmare reflect how rattled those loudspeakers and locals, as if timed to detonate a word or two into the air as i stand by the fridge, make me feel. you see i want to think of the song not them...in the worst case scenario, a muse or even myself in order to flesh out something beyond this time and this place. ps, pre dream very clear thought of ive fang this from memory handing each other notes while i learned some chinese... let us call it nostalgia - no sense in next dream strolling what can only be washington heights - a man is trying to tell me about some politician that admires the police - i don't stop but glance at the nightmare image of three men dressed up like halloween cops - i can't help but voice the fact of their corruption...dominicans! finding a train station i am as if in a sequel to previous dream trying to get home except now to manhattan - i get on a train slowly with some guy that keeps talking - get in, get in, he says - it is not like the mta, in fact like a rollercoaster with an iron belt strap holding the passengers in place - there are two other guys in the front seat and and a blurry figure directly behind so three rows and this contraption is going to brooklyn and i am asking what the stop is, brubaker? can i then transfer back to a wagon to the city...the answer is vague, the guys are in argument. i have no idea who they are and awake baffled especially since like the buses in rome one simply gets on without the process of payment, if i recall it was sort of an honor system in italy...but to someone from new york that means a free ride...weird to think of that now.
11 january

well in reality not so weird, if i was thinking of home, it would make sense as i felt at home in rome. my dreams exploded into psychodelic vision the type one might experience only with drugs or during a fight except being hit in the eye is not as colorful where the expression seeing stars originates... after that all the scenes were easier yet nothing i suppose remarkable enough to linger into waking - i guess i was too excited over finally recording deep elem blues...i did an electric version which i still liked after listening to it a few times - even if i feel the chorus vocal needs to be doubled and the fact that it went over five minutes...i did that on an empty stomach and then after a light meal i recorded a different version of the same song using the acoustic but this take was haunted by someone mentioning a now political singer-songwriter, strange how that happens - so i struggled even with the words as if distracted although i've been studying them and even wrote them down...anyway no excuses, that second take was still good but far from great except for the way i turned the chord changes...making it a seventh e then a bent e on the fourth fret resolving into the regular e major on the verses...the vocal was awful in failing to be mindful of the words and again over five minutes...i decided to give the shelton brothers version another listen since i based it on them...ah, no break between the verse and chorus gets you a three minute song...still, for only having done the scale ritual in recent weeks or even months, i felt pretty pleased at the results...i could nearly understand why the beatles recorded dozens of takes...not that i am going in that direction...yet all this is tempered by the knowledge of the massive destruction in california...the press reports the death of sam from sam & dave...i listen to hold on i'm coming, a tune impossible to dislike - but then the thing that makes most sense to hear at a time like this is the alabama five woke up this morning soprano theme song...i hear a few more songs that are "suggested" on yt...put placing this pen into actions evident here...it is yet very early in the day and hopefully i will get at least a third take of the cover i'm working on...

12 january 2025
(with some content from 11 january)
the deep elem blues tapes
two skinny girls copyright 2025

deep elem blues cut- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues x- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues live 3- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues talk- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues 11.2- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues live acoustic- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues live 6- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues 12 alternate- two skinny girls...

deep elem blues live electric- two skinny girls...

14 january

when i got around to mixing the deep elem tracks i realized why it sometimes takes me a while to play around with the daw - or even why at other times i rush through the process of song production...it's like an added step which requires an entirely different talent and disposition...neither of which are easy for me - like editing a book after the writing is done... since there are several live takes, which leaves nothing much in terms of mastering - given that it is all on one track, this conundrum was eased - although i did not expect to do it all in two days...much less to get a couple of tracks i really like...the only thing i didn't do was record videos for these, instead opting to put place scenes from the white hell of pitz palu on each song...always thought leni was a director but you can see her acting in that... i simply felt a bit too disheveled and further could not decide on a location...although i do have a room that could be nice for filming...anyway presenting it this way feels cooler, even quirky...my only real trouble came using the open e tuning for one take which took me about twelve attempts to find a groove that would mesh with the vocal i had in mind...i did not have it in mind to put place them here, however, when i went to upload from laptop to phone, the cord did not respond except to see itself as charging which led me to upload them thisaway for access at video editing - well, enough notes on deep elem - i am a bit further into hangsaman and have watched this is the night -bj, "before javeline" and learned a bit about thelma todd - i also viewed the wisdom of crocodiles - sometimes called immortality and was pretty impressed, especially by timothy's performance - even if the antagonist thugs were overplayed... otherwise not much to report in terms of dreams - i'm certain of dreaming of lotta last night yet in such a casual way that there is only a glimpse memory remaining - yesterday dreaming of walking into a magazine shop on the upper west side - for some reason handing the man there my backpack - i was thinking i had four dollars yet i am not sure what i wanted to buy - i awoke wondering if it was about the brim screenplay or the two dollar bill i had used there once upon a time - afternoon ordering water, i was actually sent extra money and phoned back to return it - a few minutes later i decided to review my other phone and found a letter from mike - it had been a while and brought up some recollections i had not entertained or considered previously - specifically about another timothy...oh my rock star friends...it was mr wright that gave me a lesson about rasputin by way of maria's book. meanwhile a lot of talk about tiktok, there is one protest clip displaying the united states blowing itself up...so china can't have it...i feel awful for the american creators living under a system that does not respect their freedom in that sense...how nice is it to earn a decent wage doing something you actually enjoy, i saw one girl was even able to purchase a house...to speak of this naturally leads to politics, i know the kremlin took similar actions even if i feel this now proves my point about there being more freedom in moscow than washington - especially in the sense that what they want is to own that platform...now the viral jealousy sound seems eerily prophetic, if i can't have you; no one can...so the stolen election that started with wuhan kiev ends with bytedancing wildfires. ps, yes justine it was disaster tourism when they alerted the press for photo-ops, drove an hour and a half to spend a whopping fifteen minutes showing their hats...i felt physically upset until paris stood up for displaced cats and even adopted a dog, like burroughs said you can't fake quality like you can't fake a good meal.
15 january

i feel like the spirit of wsb summoned queer and i am terribly excited to see how the film fleshed out the novel...i re-read that opening chapter a few weeks ago when i made one of the writing processors you can find here in this domain, there are others at inkrealm.info - because when i first read it what stayed was me was the note he made a prefix in which he detailed his feelings about joan vollmer...possession, to many is not a viable truth yet like in the shirley jackson story, where i easily related it as factual, i see now that i missed that point or rather did not connect my experiences with that word - indeed, possession is not only a viable truth, i tell you i have seen it happen. i do not mean in the catholic exorcism way, although others have seen that...yet none of this is what i actually wanted to jot but i suppose my thrill at getting to see this movie overtakes me...i wanted to take another dig at the publicity seeking former royals who somehow keep using and are still named as if HRH when they are not. hell the queen may her soul rest in peace even revoked their cottage she was so upset...perhaps south east england is now montecito...the duke and duchess of montecito, i mean if the press is going to keep playing along why not go all the way - this rant is tempered by the fact that i noticed the media kicking the not so dynamic duo of biden harris and i don't want to come off as a bully - or appear to partake in persecution even if justified. so i won't "say" more at this juncture - now then, this brings to mind how crushed paris was while thinking she could never be a princess...yet now, clearly, if anyone can claim the title of american royalty - it is her...in a quiet and effective manner she managed to raise eight hundred thousand dollars and counting in mere minutes...of course, this might be due to the fact of her malibu home on top of her rv trailer incident, but i can;t see any selfishness in her fundraising and much less in her caring for pets all the while being a loving mother although ms hilton i do think you are going to spoil them kids...ahem. yes i am done kissing ass, i viewed spread, more for the list and keitel than anything- it had this very strange butt licking thing, a mediocre movie with a few good lines...i know iknow comedy is hard... somehow the last two days the scales became hard...well two of twenty...a couple of them somehow got jumbled in my head where surely the melodic was being called the minor in the bebop notes and as i noticed it it took some of the edge off my confidence, luckily i am pretty sure i won't have to speak about scales to anyone...i saw that ozzy is now in the hall of fame and did a bit of celebration via reposting but with the concern that rhoads got the guitar award '81 only months before his passing '82 and this thing was '24 and hopefully he will not be in danger in '25 if you see my logic although i suppose we are all in danger and him moreso regardless of awards...like the pope, it's a focus point that people fixate on or as dylan put placed it, people can kill you with kindness...fame leaves few hiding places, hmm bowie put it concisely; what you need you have to borrow...i can't borrow the guitars i want but last night that was what i was dreaming of, electric instruments...still only a glimpse-memory as i awoke tormented by a nagging pain for the second day in a row - the time before it felt like my calf was being twisted - lower back as if all those tumblr ads had gone to work on a subconscious level, too bizarre well like possession... to come full circle in the note - it's as if someone is trying to go to sleep within me thus awaking me painfully - who knows - uhm i felt fine as i pondered the matter and fed the cat, so fine i went back to sleep and dreamt i owned some sort of cafe bar with suze, the place had two rooms, it was not crowded and i asked her to take my things...wallet, watch, hmm, there were two wallets... well she took these things into the other room, a sort of private office slash vip area...i was taking care of the front when this rude woman tried to rush past me to gain access to where she was...i lifted a small white statue to her face and ended the invasion then i went in for some reason asking her for my wallet, she handed me the zara but i said i wanted the valentino and then we seemed to trade places as i stayed in that room and she made her way to the front - the doors were swinging types and before she could exit she was confronted by several men, surrounded, attacked - i ran and tried to pry the one behind her off her by the mouth but then thought the eyes and started clawing into one of his eyes with my right hand while pulling him away with my left hand...all pretty intense and i awoke hoping no woman i knew would be wounded in this way and that i would not know the feeling of pushing a man's eye away from the socket...for a minute it all felt like an alternate reality...as if married and running a mom and pop shop...she loved that guthrie kid tale about how people get hitched, i can't recall it but it was something about the man simply putting a a ring on the woman's finger...i never called nobody as much as i phoned her over the hills and far away... william shot joan, a peeper sized hole in the forehead, i believe his story but it troubles me that her child who was there is hardly ever mentioned - either to protect her, or more likely to not complicate matters further in the face of tragedy...this is one aspect i am intent on seeing addressed in the film.

16 january

i have always loved the word juxtaposition...it felt foreign and i could never imagine it in the mouth of some old-timer...much less a foreigner. thursday. so it was wednesday when i watched queer. i was enjoying the opening, not so much the font, until i heard sinead oconner singing all apologies - that is a nirvana tune, naturally i started thinking of william meeting kurt and how sad it was for music that her voice although immortal will not make new songs...these thoughts along with a slight concern over a grocery delivery which i expected to arrive between eight and eleven - it came about ten thirty - or as the film left the caverns of ecuador - went through me along with a suspicion that the soundtrack would be too distracting...don't get me wrong, the songs were mostly good except the sort of hyped up ending 'how can..' thing which has burroughs' name stapled on it without his exact consent - contrary to what may seem a negative review allow me to preface these scribbles by saying i have rarely wanted to enjoy a film as much as i did this one - given that i admire wsb's writing greatly...and this is a great film with unexpected and wonderful acting by the lead, mr craig. yet before we are allowed to vibe at his electricity, there is 'come as you are' like a music video complete with rooster fighting sounds as the protagonist catches sight of what turns out to be both a supporting player and the antagonist unless you consider drug use in that category instead - but i didn't want to judge this like that in fact the fact that it made me think of things external to daniel or william should have told me what i am about to divulge; well implore, please remake this with a proper soundtrack! not only does it step on the actor's toes but it tramples over el hombre invisible - watch it and see how the next song - some low rumble jazz leaves you wondering about the meaning of "segue" in the next scene which they used for the trailer...transition might be more apt - re; segue... before all this - i should have mentioned the starting credits serve as a catalyst to the confusion i have underlined...lowery's under the volcano next to rimbaud's a season in hell...might even make some viewers pause to read both books before proceeding...camel cigarettes are all over the place - in those opening credits they lay next to raleigh cigarettes...although he gave up smoking, in the 1990s he was fond of kamel menthols which i guess is where they came up with camels... burroughs smoked old gold, lucky strikes, benson&hedges, english ovals, and senior service...of course marijuana but that is not to the point... more to the point are the guns, a clip line of ten handguns curls into seven; mauser, derringer, star model b or beretta, a colt, amadeo rossi, norinco, harrington or foehl & weeks, the fire arm of the famed incident was the star .380 automatic but the tragedy itself is not only overlooked but disguised as if he had shot the supporting player/antagonist well at least in a lynchian lifted type dream sequence time lapse which winds up making us look at the man in the aforementioned 90s without the novelty camel smokes - a bit before - to not lose the lack of logic in the soundtrack - a french or italian pop song sprinkles itself mysteriously as daniel/william falls to earth from the sky and saunters back to chips ahoy... the absence of mexico in all this is a spectacular form of writing, we never feel mexico city and much less quito - quitting for a minute to grab the goods from the door and put things here and there i thought well my soup was pretty good and daniel is shockingly good even if too fat to play bill - well, not fat - stocky - yes too strong physically even during withdrawal we already sense he will pull through- i watched the ending positively hating the final song but said to myself take a another look and listen tomorrow, sleep on it...and so i did, it only got worse. i awoke and went through guitar scales...a string popped and i found there two very troubled screws living in the ibanez roadstar ii - rusty and refusing any sort of twist or turn...i had to put place most of the strings back again carefully and i nearly cried after - i suppose the sense of tears was also weeping over this great and interesting film which in fact even hinted at the irony of joan's child by way of a kid at the bottom of the stairs and yes i did catch the william tell sofa playing in the party overdose trip...crying because the soundtrack sucked harder than the homosexual scenes - wilder than i expected but also lessened by this intrusive soundtrack, like i said, a lot of good songs but in the wrong place, dr john might have shaped some if best with 'right place wrong time' - i am well aware of the amount of work and love that goes into something like this and of how careless this note might come off as, but why should i lie about how i feel except to myself and in fantasy where i could convince myself that jean harlow is embracing me - indeed, i expect anyone actually reading this demands my truth in a sense and so it goes...off the top of my head i think an entire bowie soundtrack would have worked if the point was to please the mtv and social media scroll crowds along with having it be someone he had some interaction with...when time magazine tells you why it is a grand statement with explanations then you know something is wrong and for me it was the tunes. how i wish this was not the case. now then to further juxtapose; hollywoodland by two skinny girls should be released any minute now, well re-released... which i will now dedicate to someone with several perfect soundtracks, david lynch, not to mention a goodly record of his own. they are saying he is dead but they are wrong, lynch is not dead because lynch is immortal!

hollywoodland

(two skinny girls ain't no wifey music)
little girl in your homemade dress
kicking through the more or less
did they really make you confess
tearing up what's already been torn

shadows in a slow flicker slide by
no one looks up yet stars still shine
wine pours from their wounds high
saying remember when you were mine

little girl in your big city stress
The night's a neon guess
every morning it's a mess
as the sunlight resets reborn

shadows in a slow flicker slide by
no one looks up yet the stars still shine
wine pours from their wounds high
saying remember when you were mine

little girl with your little boy
Chinese take out noodle soy
the waiter flirts like a windup toy
fortune cookie blows its horn

shadows in slow flicker slide by
no one looks up yet stars still shy
whine pours from their wounds high
saying remember when you were my...

shadows in a slow flicker slide by
no one looks up yet the stars still shine
wine pours from their wounds high
saying remember when you were mine

remember when you were mine
remember when you were mine
remember when you were mine
remember
remember when you were mine
remember when
you were
you were
you were mine
__________________
recorded july 2024
&coming soon...
_________________
chords verse, a major - g - e
chords chorus, asus2 - asus4 - asus - esus
_________________

18 january
it made sense, to me, to watch hoodlum empire on the heels of kraven the hunter and i sort of got a kick out of both...still, friday was an awful day which did not improve until i put it to bed - lotta had said she hated sitting around the apartment all the time and that is coherent yet it is also the opposite of how i feel...very much enjoying the confines of my place which even make me wonder how anyone can manage to live in much larger spaces as i often find myself wishing there were less rooms that being in terms of cleaning - in terms of dreams i had one vague scene in aunt's house...i remember it sort of turned or transformed into a shop but the details escape - kind of like being in the inconsistent thoughts of the girl from hangsaman... a bit of inconsistancy with the guitar scales - i suppose it is due to being stubborn - as once i believe it learnt i don't check to see if i am right...how can an egomaniac be wrong...well as it happened with one suspended scale which i didn't catch until weeks later, i made it a point to get these errors corrected and i am pretty confident that i won't mix up the enigmatic with the byzantine unless i start calling it arabic again...the new ones, voodoo and bali, also get a bit mixed up in my mind but repetition of their patterns is now catching up to automatic memory...in fact, i felt so good about it, i started learning another bebop scale in order to know the complete versions... in dreams, i saw guitars, one was very nice yet i could not find it as i walked between rooms encountering a dusty left handed strat which i am actually curious to attempt if only to see how it feels to have the knobs nearer to the wrist - in the dream there was a bizarre typewriter with cash register keys in the middle which was atop a blue metal case ibm hard drive seemingly - i;ve not seen anything like it as it is not like any existing model although a bit like the ancient manual typewriters in terms of size - i should report that i was able to - with kitchen knife and tweezers - to untangle the remaining stuck screw from the ibanez which gives me a bit more freedom in terms of the pluck or strum which i have on purpose kept from being too intense so as not have to purchase new strings - exhausted from this process i left the old strings on there - it does not sound great, the mismatched ernie balls but it's good enough to run through the twenty scale ritual - now in mentioning these things i do not mean to imply mastery of my instrument in fact more correctly lack of expertise...even if i do not feel that way when playing something familiar or improvising upon it. my favorite new song is an archaic thing called 'i've got a feeling i'm falling' - annette hanshaw...1929, or thereabouts...it thrills me.

19 january

"did you ever have a dream that you couldn;t explain...ever met your accusers face to face in the rain..." i used to think of that song alot - not to learn chords or words, but it stuck around my mind after i learnt the words...i bring it up as a point of irony - as i never tried to play it or even play along to it... maybe it was the references to milton and dante at the start...i don't recall the start of this dream, i found myself in a shop as if part of a group that was looting the place...i remember scattered pens adorning the floor near the counter by the exit - i might hve been thinking how strange it was that shirley jackson used the ellipses alot in hangsaman... it sort of made me feel justified in terms of myself employing them...but enough to join marauders and trash a place in a dream? hmm...perhaps...outside it was still light but the grey light that is nowhere near bright - i had a delay getting a german film entitled 'hotel', which i am viewing now, and watched 'the trust' which exceeds irony on several levels...we are getting into a car - a silver only slightly brighter than the asphalt, a station wagon but one of the guys begins to argue with me - not certain what it was about - he pulls out a knife and starts to do that sort of dance knife wielders do who have no training in martial arts - i do not think of defending myself except to say something about the logic of simply getting away and leaving the violent discussion for later - in memory i turn away and into the vehicle as he charges then shift away from his reckless plunge leading him into the car and then getting in myself but that might be a fictional version of the dream as i am pretty certain i awoke before turning...awaking, i look at the time, i make coffee, i let a few cigarettes smoke, i think of lotta and update domains, then weaving through headlines i find "man stabbed to death, teen wounded on lower east side outside movie theater' -there are, it seems, ten films playing in that house; the goonies, one of them days, wolf man, den of thieves, the last show girl, a complete unknown, babygirl, nosferatu, mufasa, the brutalist, nickel boys, september 5, anora, and wicked...a couple of tickets cost about thirty dollars. (there is no charge to get punctured by knife or to hold it in a deadly grip even if amazon will not deliver blades to the new york area) i'd only watch the kidman film and the anderson movie. i'd been thinking that the literal translation of the others in german is die anderen although they say it was called unknown, unbekannt...sorry tiktok isnt available right now...close app! one nation under a groove, but since most folks don't go to church on sunday no more i hear service is being restored... i returned to sleep actually dreaming of myself in a surprised mirror as if searching for my face by lifting and pulling my hair back...sometimes one even forgets that beauty comes from within...lotta made pasta. i played the scale ritual and plan to give it another go before going back to the deep woods of the austrian alps in 'hotel'...ps, Detroit's nearly perfect season came to an end when a wide receiver threw a pass to a running back under double coverage as they trailed by ten in the fourth quarter. there is nothing to say except thanks anyway and hope somehow those fans that paid two thousand for a seat ticket get a refund. man woman or teen i really thought they could take it this year. well, now one is left to cheer only for a chief's defeat.

20 jan

to conclude the string point; if memory serves the nearest place to get them here ran about double the cost, that was about seven hundred pesos...but i am speaking of years ago...as i search now i see regular slinky's advertised for over fifteen hundred pesos - uhm well over twenty dollars... so you understand it's not the five dollars we are used to paying...there might be less expensive options but even so in taking a cab it would not add up to be careless in that sense... and yes i could get b and high e string by themselves but usually not the same brand and i imagine the sound quality would suffer...lastly, i have purchased no acoustic strings in a while going for the electric variety on the martin...i really liked the ring of fender bullets but i only found those onetime...my choice is dean markley bronze which i have never seen here...in case anyone wondered - after a long and convoluted conversation with mother and sister i got curious over a certain porn but when i skipped through it i thought it more horrific than anything and not only did it derail my goal of research but also it felt like i was witnessing a murder - even if it has become commonplace with onlyfans and such - i can't see that girl being taken seriously, it was as if she was turned into a triviality, a ghost that would itself be haunted. later i thought too, the man involved -who showed his face- has limited himself in unimaginable ways...obviously politics would be out of the question et cetera, a type of social suicide and for what? there is not that much money in that business...well, there is some but that type of content has become so readily available that mostly it is done in part to maintain the patriarchy and in part to have incel parties or something like that... anyway this demostrates the appointment in samarra story irony as in trying to escape my careless talk i only found a greater annoyance...somehow i did duck out from both bizarre ponds and got to sleep although much later than i wanted or expected...therein i thought not of strings or conversations or horrid vulgarity...in fact i was in my room a lot more colorful than i recall - i seemed to be joking with myself about going to a school as a teacher or as a student and so picking out the outfit when suddenly i wanted to cut class, yes no backpack to take lessons and no tweed blazer to give a lecture yet i feeling so confident over this unusual ability of being either or...the phone rang, faculty insisting that i not be late for my class, hmm so it was a lecture day and so i would not be free unless, i thought, i gave up both roles and kept this recurring dream as a personal treasure for memory as it was now for some reason revealing itself to me so much so the self-jape felt entertaining - some people did not find 'hotel' entertaining but right at the end i knew it as if i had written it - i understood the mystery as if by instinct, as if there could be no other way to write that ending. i've only felt that way once before while viewing an atom egoyan movie and that was nearly dejavu in some sense except i had not seen it before...to think there will only be a very limited amount of new david lynch projects is truly sad, sadder than cheap ass porn. william s burroughs wrote something about this pen occupation like simply doing his homework. i think it was in a book entitled the job. perhaps, that was the catalyst of those learning dream scenes...ps, i wanted to underline something about guitar scales, i mostly do them as a way of honoring jerry garcia... by mentioning them i do not mean to recommend the ritual since everyone has their own method...chords, knowing chords should be sufficient knowledge to work out notes for leads and i found this to be very true and to some extent easier...i know a lot of guitarists simplify the scales by only using a box shape and i mention this hoping to clarify my position...sometimes i will admit that the extra knowledge helps yet all one has to do is review how many players breathed genius without knowing how to read music and often enough without any idea of scales or as i often put placed it; there are only essentially seven notes.

21 jan

i didn't imagine it like soft porn, yet that is what the rom com 'lick' was...yet nearly good... but to add a note upon yesterday's thought, in trying to avoid the hoopla over inauguration, hoping they get down to business, i came across a clip of bo diddly playing bo diddly... now neither you nor i could count the songs that draw from that rhythm...i bring it up since it demonstrates perfectly the idea of only needing chords- so let us say it is in the key of E or C sharp minor, some say it is in G and maybe buddy holly played it in A with a jazzier turn...makes no difference as the one prevailing chord rings through it and the solo is merely sliding that self same chord up an octave...somehow it all works in fact wonderfully which is why so many other songs take up that groove... so if anyone tries to convince you that you need this or that well basically you don't as the one chord song proves itself and it is not alone in that category... i got halfway through hangsaman and went to sleep early wherein i dreamt of riding on a train as if going from one compartment to another, there was a kitten in a waste basket as i passed through then two cats that looked worried so i picked them up to get them on their way noticing some much larger animal threatening them, i want to say it was an elephant yet it could have been a rhino - something grey at which point i awoke concerned since lotta would be traveling...i wondered if she was taking a train to her destination and nervously smoked through a couple of cups of coffee until seeing she was flying...i suppose amsterdam or copenhagen...since those flights match the timeline although there were a couple to other parts of sweden but i doubt anything is going down in those places...before the settling knowledge i managed to nap but in such an odd manner that no logic manifested...i mean i was listening to someone i used to know speak, he kept talking as if in a race - when he started telling me about his son being better at drawing than at learning languages well i had to stop him, responding that it was not wise to speak so much...irl, he had a daughter...but rising i thought it might be about my first neighbors here, who were actually much nicer than those that remained, it was the same first name...yet in a split second i decided that it could be about the 'soho' residences across the street...one of which is guarded by a company strangely called cvs...cv being the person's initials, adding an s well if you have been in the states you most likely have come across that pharmacy chain... the last time i was there, buying camel blue hundreds, i picked up an electrical adaptor that still funtions. no matter, i followed through on my scale ritual and looked at 'advanced' chord shapes beyond the common ones i had not thought of much...there are about forty and while i don't see myself employing a major seventh sharp 5 and sharp nine it might happen or help in other ways...the rest i know...i'm thinking in terms of jazz but it occurs to me that none of the jazz players i heard speak ever talked chords at all...indeed, drugs mostly and onetime food...django reinhardt likely had more food than drugs but it gives me pause when i a see let us say the g major with an added 6th and ninth in his chord changes knowing the man had only had his thumb to balance two working fingers...

22 january
the other day, i awoke feeling that my skin was dry yet when i went to bathe it felt fine...i suspected that incident started what i hope is no series of dreams... well, it is not exactly in the category of dreams, more like a stop watch alerting loudly...'wake the fuck up' i heard stumbling out of scenes and even felt a hand pulling at my right shoulder - a few days ago which i never noted since it was neither thought nor dream or so it seemed...yesterday as i thought about lotta, who actually went to berlin not the places i imagined, i dreamt i was making a telephone call in my room - yet i could sense and see a man listening in on the other side as in a wiretap...opening the door a scantily dressed or perhaps even naked man pranced about the hallway - for a second i considered the ghost of father yet more likely an impersonator... then a woman's voice saying loudly, 'where is my beau' of course i could net tell if she meant bow, or bo, or me...turkey ski resort disaster? needless to say i felt a bit lost, then much later i again dreamt train station...nothing as nice as the kremlin lines or as dingy as the manhattan queens bronx stops, no something in between - possibly in europe... large white structures which i somehow stepped out of then unaware of my location or which way to go...in wandering and asking, how do i get back to the train station that goes everywhere, a woman volunteered to drive me...she seemed to be a mail carrier yet her car was a jigsaw puzzle of a station wagon - open at the back so the seats had to be turned so as to pretend the door was shut - i think she looked like shirley jackson...i'm two hundred pages into hangsaman - i can sort of tell when and where she leaves hints of herself...some weird synchronicty was going down as i read her writing about milton and i had very recently mentioned here the reference to the rose of sharon from paradise lost...moreover the sudden trailer for amanda's seven veils...two other men get in the post woman's rinky dink car and i awake before she gets in the driver;s seat - i was also in the middle of viewing the french film 'a second act' it is terribly exciting in that there are two scripts streaming in the form of a romance as well as the actors really reacting to eachother as if in ad libs or so it seems when the lines are really good - i left it to give it more attention later... (not long after i learned the story about steely dan's second arrangement...along with how one of them was dumped and then hit by a car...this was gaucho...they say one of the recording engineers erased the masters and the new take didn't feel right so it was left off the album, somehow there are surfaced renditions of the tune now... i gave it a listen, not exactly sure if i liked it...then i borrowed the notion that they didn't like it either since they never played it live and so the eraser tale might simply be a myth to add to the legend of their last record which indeed has other great songs...it is only fair to state that other ears consider the "lost" song as genius...) i gave an extra turn to the newer scales and went to sleep...which i am about to attempt again - sleep, that is, given that i only slept for a couple of hours as if i needed to see it was the sly hotel and wish for lotta's success more sincerely as i felt some sort of intensity and then possibly became too casual or even distracted in what i termed worship. post-script, lots of thought in dream instead of dreaming...is the rock and roll hall of fame for rap, does that mean spoken word will be included...i agree with jerry that it is another category but i also think the nature of rebellion does exist in some rap - i mean sabotage by the beastie boys could be either rock or rap...the contradiction comes becomes irony as a lot of spoken word artists do not play any instruments unless one is more careful in judgement and views the vocal as a type of musical instrument in the way actors view their body...but then does that mean that ai composed songs will be eligible for such honors... my feeling is that it is all right to not limit what rock was or will be yet for my money if there is no guitar it ain't rocking and i think that is what garcia meant... aside from pondering in the lake of rapid eye movement...before rising from bed, i felt as if a hairdresser studying the back of someone's head - i think it was someone i didn't like and still don't, which reminds me that i also thought and dreamt of an ex-girlfriend...no i do not know how to balance friendships and love...does marriage mean no real friends, it can't be or maybe why so many divorces... i can't seem to clearly define devotion without some sort of disregard for new faces yet that feels extreme as it produces a weird guilt since no one is above or better than anyone else yet equally to accept someone alongside love leads to impossible confusion. no fair solution. i hope i am being as kind as possible to all that care about me, especially the women. to give a specific example i should have already taken the time to listen to julia yet in my concern for self and worship i left it for later...as you can see, i am wrong even if i am right because in setting boundaries to my bliss i have missed that moment...and i wonder if by respecting someone am i disrespecting another... but i mean no disrespect, or as hunter put placed it, 'pay the ticket; take the ride.' yes, we are professionals, after all or will our children face the induction of sped-up renditions of songs.. ps, speaking of songs hollywood land was re-released now as i fininshed reading the novel...the writing in the ending parts is nothing short of wonderful however since i picked it up after seeing the film i was expecting natalie to go missing...yet i can see her point in terms of poetry...that is the girl we are reading about by the end is not the same girl from the start...there is an evolution, an arch, a journey which i suppose she meant to empower future girls...you don't have to fit in, you can overcome the feelings and even the failures filling up the pathway...moreover it blended nearly to a match with the ending of 'hotel'...without the scream, of course.

23 january

'a second act' turned out too good to explain, exceeding itself somehow and whatever it is one might be expecting. even the tracking shot ending shooting its own trail... well, there really there are no words to describe it without giving away extensive spoilers so i will simply recommend it to dear readers that enjoy goodly cinema. excellent. i went to sleep a bit later searching around nearly aimlessly except to see if the flight from berlin had gotten into stockholm...in my dream i am running with only shoes and shorts - it is the upper west side - broadway and i notice a woman making herself at home on the sidewalk by one of the columbia buildings - there is a dollar bill in triangular shape which i step on while jogging and for a second think to grab it yet at the same time think of paris france and how some flimflam folk put place money in front of themselves to trip up the unsuspecting person passing by so i keep going on my way - now with a panic that i have left without taking my keys yet i feel them in a pocket on the right side - a moment later i notice a crowd and turn away to run down amsterdam avenue and head back home...three men of the crowd seem to be chasing me and my left shoe needs to be adjusted as i was wearing it like a slipper and now needed to go faster - i adjust the sneaker and start to race yet pretty soon they are upon me - well one of them is - i neither recognixe the face nor like it and i start saying 'only titty only' not knowing exactly why or possibly 'only teeter only' as he reaches for me i twist his wrist into a break suddenly returning to the speed of my stride yet scared then awaking confused...not over the borderline nightmare as it is maybe par for course in terms of city dwelling but the utterly bizarre phrase spoken as if a foreign girl trying to save herself without knowing the english words for what she was trying to convey in order to escape...earlier in the day, after taking a shower, i felt an intense pain invading my right thigh and upon waking i wondered if there was a connection...hmm, the keys were the ones before they switched to an expensive multi-lock key or so it seemed from the feel of them...weird, i still have those keys for no specific reason.

24 january
i failed to consider the dream in terms of time travel... ttty is word coined in 1820...yet before and after that date there were; tittymal, tittymal, tittytotty, tittybar, tittybag, and tittybottle or one could go futher back into into the 1700s with tittup, tittuping, and later tittupy... as for teeter, it's from the Middle English titeren to totter, reel; akin to Old High German zittarōn to shiver... i thought it could be a chinese mispronounciation due to the R if it was teeter yet the idea doesn't work since it is at the end of the word...in any case, i felt awful sad through the morning yesterday and pretty unwilling to do much in the afternoon...the only bright period was viewing the hangman, no relation to hangsaman, as i did not recall watching tina in a motion picture... as much as i am opposed to the boob tube, i sure cannot deny being raised and entertained by it... it was also nice to see demi get a nom even if the academy did not respect the balance by leaving margaret out as it were...anyway i still wanted to nothing and carried on in that manner until deciding at the last minute to switch back to an earlier design for my web domains...but this was only due to the fact that the videos were not playing in opera mobile browsers- they seemed fine on chrome and the desktop version of opera and safari mobile...which is prolly still the case as i hope opera mobile will return to normal...so all i did was that and eat leftovers with lettuce then a bag of chips and a cute chunk of gouda...sprite, coffee, cigarettes, and scales...it even felt like too much of a task to bathe...although i did shave... spirit of lynch perhaps, the solitary ant crawling around my cellphone out of nowhere...they were sugar ants but they were coming in for water, he had said once upon a time...i had recently read laura's letter with feelings and memories so exact that no one could believe me if i told them...my conflict with this arises from the michael j anderson slander and the julee cruise rant although in her case it was later edited down so that it is not easily found online whereas the man from the other place was basically silenced by itself being so extreme as well as by the lack of response it got - jennifer did argue against it but i believe she is the only one...i note these things as conflicts within myself because i always felt they, not jen, were sort of the pieces, important pieces, that belonged to lynch, that were part of him or his persona if you will...if you look for the dwarf it will only say he is 'retired' and the crooner will say she committed suicide while listening to the b-52s' roam...yes i know this must not be interesting to anyone else yet my emotional investment in the lynchian universe is left with that chaos...i've always felt his characters were a sort of family - i suppose it still makes sense given the turmoil within my actual family...i suspect this will never be resolved...maybe i should consider it 'nonexistent'...now these thoughts are shared to also clarify why i gave mja space in the list while dedicating the song to dl and "liking' so many tribute posts at instagram... one and the same, it was about the arm and the giant...but that is how i saw this 'giant' director and him...to think of it he saw it too, otherwise why would he cast the arm atop the throne of mulholland drive...let me conclude this with a quote from it, "You want me to make this easy for you? No fucking way! It's not gonna be. It's not easy for me!" in my dream there is a big plate of bacon although i have been keeping kosher for sometime now, as i eat i wonder if it is the facon that i heard emily speak of...i don't miss it and this is also the case with most food...i suppose i see it as a mere necessity...something to do while watching a film...i left a short film called the death of a shadow when i realized it was a short film...even if it did seem enticing in some ways...like meat-flavored ice cream, i think well i like short films but how will i ever get around to them or worse list the ones about writers...and if so would one not be forced to include social media tapes in the category...i can hardly do my job in terms of tvc15... when i looked it up, i noticed a dozen titles but then as i researched i found there is no end to it not now with the several many prodco's spilling out a series every couple of days...later in my dream, i am standing in a room where a man has just been murdered, they are putting him in a sort of duffel bag or heavy trash bag that is tightened by tape at the ankle torso and neck areas... i guess we are going to dump the body in the nearest lake or river...perhaps ocean...somehow i am neither surprised nor interested in the proceedings...i had gone to complete harlot's ghost yet i found i had actually read most of it and it wasn't helping my inertia - turning to the letters of shirley jackson i started thinking of cake as she mentions it and put that away as well not wanting to excite myself over the only food i actually craved a few months ago...maybe i have simply read too much and need to press pause on the books.

25 january

dream of no easy situation - an airport it seemed, all the luggage is on the floor...there is a man that would appear to have been looking through them - he is now in a squat beside a large collection of lipsticks as if inspecting them - it is then i say something not audible enough to recollect as he removes some of the caps and flings the lower portion in a manner that can only be described as disdain - i believe it is at this point that i got up for a second to turn off the fan as i actually felt the cool sweet air of winter...the lights had gone out before i went to sleep but not more than half an hour...earlier they had been out for three hours...i felt as if it was some sort of signal...i had mostly escaped some caravan song blaring out on the street and even the mobile aguacate vendor shouts as well as the compramos todo lo que sea viejo mantra with murder on the dancefloor headphone playing...a signal that the intrusive sounds are required? well, the lights go out now as i tyoe this - i flick ashes into my coffee instead of ashtray in the sudden darkness - the bar game we played on doped dummy's when they turned their heads... over the hills and faraway - where was i oh yeah faced with the non electric chunk of time i washed my hair and watched 'ace in the hole' - a pretty worthwhile study of character and intuition... somehow it was getting late and i went into my scale ritual then bed fromw which you already have the scene noted...later i dreamt i was shopping naked...didn't feel strange as i pulled at bags to gather the goods except then it wasn't groceries but gaby or gabriella... i guess i need to find a middle ground name for her since the first feels too informal and the second quadruples the syllables...i think it is the only time i have dreamt of her...not much time to play or pal around as some strange and strong man insisted on displaying his talent of twusting necks - the ghost of burt reynolds said something but i could only think hey it's burt reynolds...you know fangirl syndrome - anyway one guy gets his neck twisted and seems to die, then another stands before the strange strong man and the same happens but this time he props him up and twists again until the poor fellow returns to life or at least what is left of life after a near death experience...somehow this leads to me buying a suit, i am trying on a quasy fancy teal blazer and i tell the sales person that the sleeves are too long which he refutes - showing me that he is wearing the same jacket and it is fine on him failing to take into account that i'm 5'7 and he is at least 5'9 maybe six feet tall...we wander over to find a replacement - now back at where i had got the bags - the strange strong man is surrounded by law enforcement agents and pulls out ice skates to cut the soles of his feet, i notice them bloody and think he is going to launch himself into battle, his type of warpaint i suppose...i woke up not really caring to find out what became of that brute...a sigh moment after typing that sentence the lights flip on...my eyes adjust...my only plan for the day is to avoid the delivery of cash that was sent despite me insisting the money be used to hurry the arrival of my new guitar...in my calculations it seems logical...get it monday after i know the box is on its way.

26 jan
about yesterday, how could i ever call that a day? it was a saturday, yet minutes after typing that note, there it was again another lights out moment that lasted hours leaving the soup incomplete... the only bright spot was avoiding all the noises via headphones yet even that was soured by the return of the delivery man as if intent on seeing me...shouting the name he thinks is me and somehow getting in the building and banging on the front door...i was playing scales which i actually did thrice while waiting in the dark...thinking why would someone do that without first confirming via phone...it is the usual proceedure...olives chips and cheese with a lukewarm sprite as i watched the linguini incident, am awful movie that has one magical scene where the lead actress questions how many would like to see her drown and turn blue at which point the real wife of the lead actor raises her hand...it's a howl! by the time i got to the soup i didn't want it but had it anyway for the sake of nourishment - the awaited package did not get past set up and is supposed to go out today or tomorrow...i was neither disappointed nor surprised but sort of weirded out by how the whole day went...anyway it will still take a couple of weeks to arrive... dreams never arrived except for a very clear and nearly impossible vision of a man that i can only describe as a santa claus type, marx every body nose there ain't no sanity clause, uhm yea white hair and beard in a glowing living room with a fireplace chimney like i have never seen before...it was nearly shocking as it made me think of the letter jfk wrote to that child who asked if there was such a thing...i awoke with everything feeling far away...even the coffee. on my second cup, i suppose it would all be all right if in fact lotta didn't feel so far away... i am about to look at her new video now, it seemed unusual that she showed no enthusiasm for berlin, no reaction in a sense...in fact she posted a scene from the rose club instead - i don't know how i remember such details yet i can only imagine that i do for some specific reason...now sunday, which turn will this take?

27 january

what was sunday, well it started off weird and nearly desperate although i'd be hard pressed to offer explanations...like awaking to a feeling that the day has already paased you by, left you too late to catch up...how strange you may ask, well to jizz in the pants while not exactly excited while sitting down is how...then i planned a night full of rain along with rice and steak yet i couldn't get through it and i didn't really want to go back...i gave up and took a nap wherein i dreamt i was fixing a shower...standing in water facing three shower heads one of them was overloaded with frames, like eight by ten picture frames, i removed these and showed them to someone, an older man that was not pleased and threatened to fire me...maybe in some dream world i am a plumber...well knowing i have no career ambition in that area i return to the showerheads and slide them up the wall, they are all spouting or squirting if you will...i remove one and find a flexible hose which i put place in mouth as one does when siphoning gasoline...i am surprised then that i can breathe perhaps believing myself underwater...i awake and see lotta's shower... it makes me feel more in sync with myself and i even find a guitar case sale which i jump on - five or six guitars with only one case, obviously i need help...but then seeing her praise some tv actor takes me all the way back to too much heaven and i let the song float around for a while even looking at the chords...pictures of you by the cure might have been more adequate yet not as pleasant... i go to sleep feeling like a peasant in a kingdom which taxes and takes no notice of peasants... i dream of the now antique batman, specifically adam west...yet it's all vague...nothing to report, it is my preferred batman in terms of style and writing...those scribes never got enough credit... although their scripts are the blueprint for the caped crusader's empire...i suppose there were other scenes which simply escaped...i only recall the vivid replaying of one of my songs - dialdialler, or some may think it is called high fidelity... so i awake at least feeling all right about the music except was the whole week about some wicked doppleganger, youtube video ad twice seen parents telling a child we never told you you had a twin sibling...good grief charlie brown...did the act of giving my plumber shoes turn out worse for wear...is the road to hell paved with good intentions...and why did bat token make it a dispute in refusing to deposit the final pay out...the browser row rekindled while searching for a replacement to opera mobile... i research butter now unwilling to study porn for the previous fright, i am looking for the golden canned one with a cow's head on the label, i might be mistaken over the bovine but not the light bronze shiny color...i come up with golden churn butter and wijsman but think maybe red feather has a new label...anyway something like this might be an option since they have a long shelf life...moreover, i found there is a such a thing as powdered butter which supposedly one merely adds water and voila...who knew? leads to the trite what will they think of next... wait i should have said beurre bretel instead of red feather but since i am not certain of the pronounciation i will let it be...i will conclude this particular note with the buffalo lament, we all saw the ball hit the ground but the refs now seem to allow the chiefs a completion as the nfl appears to want another taylor swift super bowl...it would be shocking if jane's addiction had not wroted 'nothing's shocking'...

28 january

tuesday. i should clarify 'a night full of rain'... it was interesting however i might not have been in the right state of mind to enjoy it, so i left italy of the late sixties or early seventies only to return to italy in the forties...that is to say; across the river and into the trees... obviously for danny huston but as i watched i found i could not turn away from viewing...it is such a gentle poem which contains such harsh and rough lines, like a wood carving...for most of it i did not recognize matilda perhaps too thrilled by the plot and how i understood nearly all the native talking except when the black shirts stood by the cafe speaking...anyway i really liked this one even if the ending matched what i was expecting, i suppose i didn't expect liev to be that good and deangelis was great...there were moments when her expression said so much, well her eyes...yet let me not over do it as i don't want anyone looking at it as if it needs to be true for them, that was my truth in that point in time, i cannot guarantee such magic for anyone else - for all i know, you might prefer ' a night full of rain'... which i left after only a few minutes... monday was the day the money came, it reminds me of the mae west quip when she is told ten men are waiting for her and she says send one of them home because i am feeling a bit tired...i ordered a coke and non menthol smokes, since pepsi has basically been outlawed here and the sweet cigarettes were going too quickly...all week i awoke as if sleeping strained my back and then sit worried, smoking and wondering what on earth is going on...like there is an invisible jigsaw puzzle which then leaves me reluctant to engage with the rest of the day...what is that horrible word i hardly ever use...ah yes lethargic. a few minutes after the soda and so called cancer sticks, the pizza arrived, luckily i looked before unlocking the door to see yet again someone intent on mixing in behind the delivery as if i was also greeting them... enjoyment seemed out of the question as i face the pie thinking of how late it already was which then translated into staying up way past my bed time... in feeling i had to finish seeing the film, then finalizing the new domain designs and augmenting the cinema list...finally in bed, bowie songs i had heard the day before howled in memory - as if the time i knew that delivery was knocking returned like a spiritual investigation...i guess there is a danger in handing over a piece of identification to receive them dollars...but there is no other logical way to do such things... well, not until electronic currency becomes the standard...i went to sleep sort of praying that the box had been picked up and was now on its way...christmas in february...i hesitate to continue since i don't want to name the actress i was thinking of then possibly dreaming of but honestly i think there was a message and i don't know who those women in my dream were...all i know was one was blonde and the other not so blonde...if brunette or even darker hair i cannot say...she was extremely happy with me but i kept wondering why the blonde was upset as it seemed to have something to do with me...something i did or did not do? she only walked away when i tried to ask...if i let instinct have its say, well then obviously i have put placed lotta well beyond what would be fair in terms ot attention and so jealousy might be the easy answer...there have been days where not much gets done other thinking of her...this stems from other questions i cannot quiz myself with and expect correct answers as well as the blurred stance which cannot lean into an exact emotion given all that has transpired. not just with her, but with myself. not to mention the impossible situation which has no way to balance itself in terms of 'family' life and the utterly ironic fact of folks then disguised to dismantle affection for their own favor. in other words, situations i cannot control and once in a while make me jump to conclusions that drift too far away from the rational. from the real. if nothing is good or bad based on thinking or point of view, there should be no feeling involved yet since we all know there is - there are emotions, well - it must be that ol willy shakes was partly mistaken in that particular line...

29 january
i always like to celebrate bridget's birthday and although i didn't want to explain the bathing gif i find myself compelled to mention it because the next film i viewed happened to be ladies of leisure which somehow had barbara bathing that in turn consumated varda's idea for me; 'cinema is my home, i think i have always lived in it'...in other words i felt as if the films were speaking to eeach other and for a minute allowed me to listen...now then yesterday, i uncluttered the balcony - moved one of the sofas and found a listin diario from 23 august 2023...hidden under the seat, given the date it could not have been mother or the related guests that got to visit last fall, 2024...it certainly wasn't my doing...it would be an unlikely scenario to consider that skirt pawed the paper into the couch...which leaves only the intrusion of someone invading while i was out - that particular wednesday was pretty eventful, not to mention it would have been soraya's birthday - even here a sort of hurricane was twisting the wind... no matter, as much as i want to think of it as a message, the raid fact diminishes any logic, if someone can't pick up a phone or write a note - well in this case possibly simply knock on the door it obviously implies something that cannot be good - cannot be intended to help but to hurt - i came up with this later as at the time of the finding i was very intent on doing some cleaning - the living room and dining table were next, i stepped into the kitchen listening to rockabilly and also got that done, even set myself up for laundry and disinfected what is usually called here the maid's quarters...i have been purchasing litre bottles of coca cola to line up against the woven metal back door and gate - both of which have, i estimate, enough space for creepy crawlers to slide through, i think there are fourteen now and i have three more in reserve...anyway, for some reason i wasn't hungry the whole day - and so i continued my clorox party into the main living spaces and then the bathroom - meaning yes i got most of the house in order...i need to find a way to cover my shoes...the dust somehow accumulates with such insidious speed...but in not wanting to use bags, i wonder what options remain...eating my pizza at what would have been an hour before midnight in sweden, i liked the feeling of clean although i loathe the act of cleaning for the fact that it merely requires more cleaning before long...i suppose in contemplating all this it was midnight here before i could finally fall asleep...i don't have any dream to report as the scenes were vague...getting up again i had a memory of being in some sort of bar or club...women therein as if evaluating themselves in terms of who i like or love...my erection wanting to be pleased but also wanting to pee...my inclination for fantasy put aside in considering it would be noon time elsewhere, naked peeing worried that there would be bleach residue upon my soles since the tiles still felt moist, i dressed for coffee and smokes, the cell rang, no lettuce and no rosemary...what could i say...all right...the order will arrive anytime between now and eleven...i let go of some aelf coin to get ondo...the box was collected and is scheduled to arrive in two or three weeks... i am hopeful about this haul yet it also makes me feel selfish, as if i were too rich or something although it is not exactly the case...i guess i have misjudged my self love, maybe i need to love myself more and merely rejoice in the material possessions that are coming...likely the catholic mindset, heaven and eyes of needles and camels or whatever it was...original sin and guilt...gulp, i gallop through lotta's latest posts...not signing up for her handmade hair brush giveaway slash raffle so as not to make her feel any pressure from me...oh but they are so lovely, still, whatever i do for her i do freely, the courts have said marriage is no longer sexual servitude...the nerve! of course, it is otherwise what is the point? ok, ok, if an asexual man marries and asexual woman, maybe that argument has a leg to stand on...i surrender, dear reader, you got me, yes i miss the golden olden era of slavery. in fact, i can't imagine how we've all gotten along without it.

30 january
well, on second thought, we haven't...a lot of structures are so based on it that the work still stands in a sense. to leave the frying pan and lean into the fire, robots are the easy answer...i see now that i am not the only one that senses the need for that...automated machine servitude already has a long history...yet this is only a random thought which flowed out of sarcasm... imagine if the all the jews had to go back to egypt! a word to the wise, don't get too sarcastic with ai... it's thursday, i don't want to write about babygirl - i did not enjoy seeing the beautiful nicole appear older...vulnerable...at the start i felt a tug or perhaps it could be termed a wink at eyes wide shut, but the woman has more power now except there is a glitch in her that propells the narrative...i suppose one could argue over the brilliance of the quirky metaphor but for myself i had to skip over the father figure song and dance sequence as it felt as cornball corny as denying the minimum wage is a type of modern slavery...anyway her acting was like always sublime yet i didn't feel that level of emotion with the other players, the husband seemed confused, last to know syndrome, antonio hit the highmark with the commercial boy on his lap going this child has a tumor - meanwhile the lover had this split personality question and smirk which looked like someone high on certain drugs...still i liked the early collage with the dog hovering over her on the street and the seemingly extasy riddled club date...but as the culmination fight fizzled out and life went back to normal for lack of a better word, the implication baffles...that is the lover now alone in a hotel room giving the dog quality time...although it gives one a reason to want to look at nightbitch - which i haven't been inclined to view - it does not make sense - well perhaps to people who really like canines...if memory serves kubrick ended with the child sort of dissolving into the department store...this was also christmas...the doctor's wife saying we need to fuck - an ending which does not lose its grace even if it is a curse word, you could watch it ten times and the charm sticks like he knew somehow that even if he had a hundred variations there could only be one way - a sort of cinematic alchemy. now i seen one reputable reviewer term babygirl as bliss and i seen the australian say she never had so many orgasms...my apologies to tom and keith for even mentioning that in passing...however or despite those opinions, i didn't find it sexual per se, in fact i wondered much more about her ears as if that character had worn heavy earrings for too long. in other words this is no sequel to the masterpiece mentioned but a pretty strange plot with a near enough hollywood ending which might have been better served by one of the characters being murdered and perhaps a court or insane asylum ending sequence with or without the puppy. hush puppy - if only they had picked rough boys instead of george michael - oh well, pete isn't lucky with soundtracks - don't mind me i'm only waking up and suddenly feeling my dream vanish...in it i was being chased, i felt fear and still feel a bit nervous...i haven't looked at the news yet although i did look at lotta's new postings...i love the way she looks when rising in the morning...donnerstag i think is the german word...i hope i can return to my schedule, cleaning the house and then laundry yesterday took me further into undefined distractions...of course more money or even a simpler say one bedroom place would solve that but to clarify i don't want to be so rich, only wealthy enough to help others and have more guitars.

31 january

after another slightly unusual day, i mean i went back to sleep dreaming in what seemed to be london wherein a fat man was trying to massage lotta and i was upset then upon an avenue partly crowded where i noticed a naked girl sitting on the street as if oblivious to her surroundings as a walking girl said something along the lines of he's looking for gold, i thought she meant me yet of course it could have been meant in terms of someone else, i turned then looking more at the building structures and thinking about my pants wondering if the penis was getting an erection or if the erection was subsiding, a mid-term in between bop which obviously confused me...i awoke and thought about it for a while...without conclusion except marianne faithfull died...from what i read it seems she suffered greatly in the last few years - i was suffering through the lillian gish film although i wanted to see these actresses i did not want to be reminded of what both my aunt and mother are going through...i left it before an hour had passed and don't really want to return...i had a light meal and planned to pack it in early as it were, playing through the twenty scale ritual and some chord shapes, i tried to hypnotize myself into slumber yet the dona leida was being shouted as if buzzers and phones were illegal so i struggled through that sound in my head as if suddenly empty of thought...i suppose since i can no longer count how many times that stranger has yelled out to be let in...a bit later in sleep again i dream i am chased...awaking as if wounded by nerves - yet the scene blurred and dissolved leaving only the anxiety as i thought it is probably too early to start the day, in another dream a woman i do not know is buying glasses and suggesting i should get the same ones...i explain that i do not like the style - the optic man was then angry and started on a rant about how good they were and how fairly priced they were at this point in time, i shrugged repeating i simply don't like them - walking away with her next to me i notice they are raybans and have second thoughts about not getting them but i still feel them as unattractive, i think i already have raybans as i now walk in a snow laced street alone, it seems to be 109th between columbus and amsterdam and i am considering how to navigate the crossing as the snow has piled up and it looks as if a nearly frozen river lake has formed - a grey mystery that might be hip high i evaluated avoiding it by swerving wide - i enter a shop and find myself counting the dollars to pay, a hundred and fifty dollars, maybe it was a tom petty honeybee dream, but what was i buying...whatever it was cost more than that and i awoke before finding out the outcome...the obituary party was in full swing as sometimes occurs at the passing of someone important - muhammad deif, loretta ford, wolfgang zweiner, and dick button...i considered the last three for a minute...i want to wrap you in plastic and put you in freezing water...sheryl doing david's voice in a video i saw after natalie...memory of her 'ugly' scene in we are the sickest band movie goes like lightning through memory reflecting how i feel once in a while at cell camera glimpse...u-g-l-y, you aint got no alibi, you ugly your momma says your fugly...1986 wildcats...dick laurant is dead kicks off the spiral in lost highway and that comes to mind upon the button note...i bring it up because it is exactly part of the point here...i think scientologists call it an engram, a phrase, a set of words, or even one word might in fact trigger unimaginable effects...giving weight to burroughs's hypothesis that language is a virus...i next ring up why some folks need you or insist without exact logic for you to mirror someone or something...conformity i suppose, the status quo...i haven't mentioned it but recently have felt that pull...yet the put down goes further back - a control mechanism that concentrates on some flaw or even false vision to bury self in despair or at least doubts...which in turn makes one feel as if proof or some substantial reaction would be needed...of course in logic, i know that i needn't prove anything having possibly accomplished more than i ever imagined except for climbing the mountain of unedited manuscripts in that suitcase which i keep waiting - as life has given no quarter yet to settle that score...excuse my untimely rant, now as i consider these things i think my concern is precisely or only those voices, hmm, those eys without faces, that further the insanity by insisting it is all to help you or the like...yes, similar to a 1940s skit going do you have two tens for a five...which i might further make more ironic by underlining the missing fifteen by which i mean aunt;s house.

february 3/4 2025
wordstar.nexus dreamnweaver note will be updated soon...i was about to dress up the waiting page with a few words but after watching myrna loy and ian hunter, in 'to mary - with love', i thought i should not rush through...there is a scene where they, as mary and bill, are smoking in the dark so one mostly only sees the smoke... it was 1936, i dare say it is the greatest single sequence involving cigarettes in the history of cinema...john cromwell directed that - sydney wagner was the cinematographer - mark lee kirk was the art director - and ralph dietrich was the editor. even in my sloppy print, it looked magical...outstanding. post-script; i am considering put placing the earlier dream notes and other content here; https://wordstar.gitbook.io/inkrealm
february 5 2025

that kid from wahoo nebraska sure put out some fine photo plays...burroughs happy birthday viewed the 1920s as a doorway...i feel pretty fine when the 1930s proves me right...i was thinking of jennifer singing take me back a minute ago - charlotte rampling we like especially because she seems to carry that aura from those ancient times...it has only been a few days but trying to recall the events feels like searching through antiquities - there is no law i am breaking by missing a dream, but somehow it feels criminal... allow me to slip start by not a dream but a glance...at a glance, there it was, the most evil thing i have ever witnessed...a feral cat had caught a rock dove either right there adjacent to the back door or carried up from the ground level - i;m on the second floor - a feather in its mouth, the pigeon in pieces, i didn't want to study the scene yet i do suspect it was feeding upon the capture... it stayed there a while as i disinfected my side of that area and now all that is left are the remains of the bird...my own cat kept away from the mess yet he did display a bit of a frenzy as if celebrating the murder...the killing brought to mind the black crows' remedy...i had actually heard it the day before...a look at the lyric will mafe the reference self-explanatory - make...there is no math for visions... they tell me maafe is peanut stew... i suppose i hesitated to jot the dream that made me pause...i was in bed with robyn, both of us nude, touching her i praised her skin and she was self effacing pointing out some acne here or there to which i responed with temporary logic, not a flaw... she was on my right side hovering to the left as i awoke feeling bewildered by still sensing the actual touch and then of course a bit baffled expecting it would have been lotta...still it killed loneliness like that auslander killed the bird... skirt once caught a bird yet in such a gentle way that it was able to fly away when i picked it up...no other dream to really note, there was a scene wherein a man was trying to sit on my feet, looked like a nephew, there was a vibe like some girl had been cheating - awaking to the no logic frenzy...another where someone was visiting, a stranger in a suit...he went right into the bath - soaking there all dressed up...it was awfully unexpected - like an extended dream conversation which feels as if someone is merely extracting data let us term it a download dream...possibly why the song don't start me talkin' i'll tell everything i know was wroted...wiretap paranoia might expand to unimaginable scenarios when you consider ai is able to clone any voice...so while i did have at least one other dream to mention, i motion against it given the fact that i am not certain if in fact it was a conversation or a set up - the next feeling inertia and worry mingle and that horrific sensation that one has been replaced by someone else - in this case specifically i mean folks involved with my sister...don henley plays dirty laundry...what is it akin to, well it would be plausible that the number of surrounding juans is an area scheme in order to mask under the nearby church and school...normally it would seem only logical to be surrounded my marias... i've met more marias in the soviet lands than all my time here...hmm be that as it may, i obtained a couple of india eisley films - american outlaws...simply terrible save for her self yet even herself was overwhelmed by her tits...no wonder actresses are now being cast as chairs...we are not going to speak about my furniture...it was a true story but her counterparts failed horribly in caricature instead of craft...you feel the stupidity much more than the history which is constantly floated by like a hallucination motif...so i had little hope for every breath you take and i was not disappointed as it was also pretty bad although by some luck there were no breast on show...again, the cardboard cut out acting by her costars and the gullible nature of her character that is to say bad writing leaves one dismissing it as soon as it is over...maybe her beauty is a curse, oh we can cast her alonside any old hack and if all else fails...tits...but she's above average and it is tragic when these sorts of contradictions present themselves. i was then trying to see one called adolesence but it was not available... maybe things will be better in chicago...to my shame i did not think of anne marie when the faithfull news broke - more in morin...suddenly i saw i was right, in paying attention to a muse or to a self, i left something so cute on some shelf to collect dust as it were...not that there was anything i could do or wanted to do but it underlines the previously mentioned irony...in this case, i had only thought that lotta could learn a thing or two in terms of her desire to have a bakery...yet in looking closer i realize she is the only girl i have come across that loves tennis...blinded by the light? i did of course think of marie anne, yet in the end there are no words for that kind of emotion. for someone attempting to be gentle, it might be viewed as intrusive...for someone avoiding irony, it might be manifested by being invoked through words...so wishing her well from a safe distance was where i settled...what does anything mean? one report spawns copycat headlines yet there is no silent option, is there? so no need to ask why joni was caught in the devil's bargain trying to get back to the garden...i was caught up in an all night investment plan, by which i mean 'coin' - a couple of days ago and i suppose i need more time to balance into what has become my usual schedule...anyway the system was merely moving one token to a new address - mostly due to the fact that one place has possible earnings where the other didn't...these transfers are often lightning fast yet in shuffling through what are named seed phrases to exctract from various installed 'wallets' well it is a task...still, nice to see new earnings nearly instantly...i don;t expect too much from these things, the motivation is to leave a substatial enough fortune for whatever loved or beloved ones remain...so that they need.nt be concerned by the economy. it's like my stock holdings, i'm sure it will come in handy further down the line...for them.

ten february

i had a nearly logical urge to fix up my main room as i expect one of the new guitars to arrive in the upcoming week or two...mission accoomplished, but there is yet much to do in terms of uncluttered goals. i kept thinking it was january and someone;s birthday for some reason awaking today to see that emilee's birthday didn't cross my mind...which might explain that disaster dream wherein she seemed to be with me at the liquor shop...someone had aaked for wine and i looked in the fridge container for a bottle... this upon the heels of literal cat nap, skirt seemed to be fighting with the pigeon eating feral cat and i was rushing to protect him when i noticed three other cats transform, turned winged, and flying... one of them turned back and looked to be stuck in the metal of the back door...squeezing out slowly as i awoke...an awaking to merely freak out as a wedge of orange rested at the whirpool door...the thing was it felt as if someone had been there and that paranoid feeling continued to creep around me even into the next day...no daddy or dad wanna be is allowed into the water closet, violent dream - who are these people that think i am like them or that they have been invited... suddenly the apartment feels like a wrestling match... i feel bad over slamming his head into the wall, but then as if blending scenes i wonder if someone came in and slammed my head into the wall...they say it's gas, bubbles in the neck...something must have happened... there's been talk of real estate and i have even felt the eviction sensation although it is illogical when one owns the property...no landlord, no worries in that sense even if bullies want to blind the facts...then again i must take into consideration how some folks insanely identify with a place - buying and selling it as if souls were involved...here you go; rent out my cousin or aunt...haunted or mirrored, hounded in error...perhaps that is wahy i had them chased dreams... invasion of the body snatchers redux...anyway no goodly dreams to report, even lotta said she had a nightmare - oh wait, margaret i did dream - her eyes mystical - she was dancing and it was another transformation dream like josie trapped in the dresser from twin peaks instead this was shiny silver metal yet i could still see her eyes...i thought of the melted magnet liquid i used to play with as a child...it felt childish to indulge myself in all six thin man films yet in the final evaluation there is no better series of films in terms of sequels...at least not in the rom-com detective genre - the thin man, after the thin man, another thin man, shadow of the thin man, the thin man goes home, and song of the thin man...i simply adored them even if the last one made me over think and the ending was not what i expected unless i consider that they were putting the franchise to bed...uhm the overthinking was about don taylor playing buddy hollis...a name too near to buddy holly...his previous acting credit had been 'time to kill'...a short film, preceeded by 'winged victory'...well, you see how that sort of thing could get one's mind worked up...sure, imitation; life and art...well, there's something ironic given the otherwise joyful conclusions in those films... myrna was not shy about playing the vixen, i viewed thirteen chairs and indecent -aka, vanity fair - but i think i mentioned that here already...i did want to mention emptying out the bench to bum rush the opposing team in the first quarter but they got by without that strategy...although i am tempted to type that the nfl was merely paying heed to public sentiment...the real superbowl ie, detroit vs buffalo must have been playing in the dreams of true fans...now then, two skinny girls retro classic slide instrumental, laudanum, will be re-released any minute now...here's hoping your monday is moving along happily.

11 february
dream said i was walking in a city beside what should have been a park or garden yet was much more of a forest...there were signs, they indicated via insignia or logo that the area i had wandered into was occupied by a military force...soon enough encountered men in uniform...i carried a backpack which i haven't for some time...one of them sat me down in what i think thwy call a mess hall, a sort of dining area more like you would find in jails or school cafeterias than actual eating places...he insists on seeing what it is i might have in the bag...based on the principal of privacy i argue against the search, although i actually have no idea what might be in there - positively something trivial given my response - his response was to empty out all the contents of his pockets as if to say he had nothing to hide so why should i...as i am about to explain my shyness, a fidel castro type saunters up behind me and leans against the chair i am in sitting on - he reprimands the soldier man and also mocks him insinuating he is a homosexual, meanwhile i am keeping still thinking i always wanted to meet fidel castro, but he then grows louder remarking that he is not a homosexual yet runs off removing his pants to join the crowd of soldiers that were the counterpart of the man that wanted to rifle through my belongings - as if to leave the statement as sarcasm or at least a question in the air of listening minds - in another dream i am being driven in a vehicle to what felt like some clandestine operation, or even a heist...there is someone next me and we are holding hands...the way children might... when the destination is gained the hand holding leads me in the opposite direction promising to be with me all the way then suddenly disappearing - at which point i find myself climbing an entrance gate...ala river cartwright in france - a slow horse not knowing what is on the other side...hundreds of crawlers swarm the ground and i worry they will get at my ankles yet they swim past as if intent on leaving those grounds...i see a corridor, it is glowing and my grandmother is there yet as i attempt to get her attention i notice she is blind and possibly deaf...she is moving things around with a dancer's motion, carefree, and i move on to find the party i was with only to find myself in an apartment - peopled by more than i could count much less recognize - a woman now in front me seasoning meat as if trying to show me - to my left is lotta yet she is not near and in conversation with someone else - i awake remembering something about a kitten or cat that had a jack on its side and i plugged in a cable the way i would with an electric guitar - i stumble out of bed concerned that someone might be using gadgets to pass himself off as me - a vague memory of an old galaxy android came to mind - gary plays john cheever in the film i am in the middle of but what keeps going through my thoughts is how similar celeste is to margaret and thus the question of previous dream...could it have been foretelling this film or was i right in thinking it was merely replaying a variation on a film i had recently seen many times...there is no right answer and i settle into tuesday knowing i will not know. one last thing, the scene after climbing sure brought to mind the triple note by the tree intimacy dream and pre-dream it was the very first time i thought of anya although i had her image put placed atop the inkrealm cloud space for months which i switched upon the maria thought - the weird part of it was that it was like being cornered into a usual or habitual thought sequence which was entirely foreign to me, i mean of course i like and admire her yet that is not exactly translated in thoughts which have been otherwise engaged...later looking at her pictures i find that parts of my thought sequence were even accurate, i remembered from the generation p article her friend and recognition fired up within my looking eyes. in any case, alike the margaret/celeste puzzle, this also has no resolution. not that i ever mind thinking of pretty girls...

february 12

indeed, what else is there...now then to elaborate on the "cloud" it is merely being grateful for the inspiration i found in moscow, in saint petersburg, in samara, in volgograd, yes russia...at the time, history will prove the vilification of the former soviet empore as if insanity prevailed in the press, corporations exited, sanctions punished the innocent, and everyone seemed to turn against that land...i was looking at the hermitage museum at finding shostakovich was from that city...how does one explain that place...let us say some people awake there thinking they are in paris france...but back to the point, so the "cloud" was also a protest as i feared for these girls and hoped it would help them in some way...i got up in the wee hours thinking about the dream i had...a girl dressed in yellow rain coat with a matching hat looked extremely happy to see me...i would not find it weird except i know i can sit for hours at my desk never thinking of anything or anyone with any joyous greeting... in any case, it seemed she kept moving from standing in front of me to being a picture or video streaming on one of my cell phones, at some point i picked up the other one to film her...i noticed i was on the big mattress that somehow got lost...the one i had wroted private area upon...it could be that someone kept it instead of the story i was fed...lotta seemed to feed on a hamburger and fries, later asking why she was having trouble sleeping...i stumbled around hoping she would get some rest - but i haven't been able to think her as i did before the christmas party - it has become a sort of flip frenzy image invitation - wherein other girls feel as if i am leaving them out when they have every right to ask for my attention... in some cases, i suppose that is true, in others it might be my own fault for looking...except in all logic no one can keep to one thought twenty four seven... not that it really matters to her or to them... it is only a high strung sensation i keep trying to tune...of course there is no correct tuning for an instrument as delicate as the mind...i suppose most folks would understand this in terms of faith...a heavenly divinity and the multi-faced distractions of sin for lack of a better word...don't get me wrong, i am not actually worried. in fact i only got worried while thinking of going to the bank - itself a minefield of dress up and locking up this and that before arriving - the worry eased upon the knowledge that i needn't hurry over my deposit plan or anything related to that... besides what if the expected haul arrives and i happen to be not here - i continued watching the italian film deciding to savour it by sections...so only halfway through...i think i miss reading and desired to return to the wagner book that his wife wrote out for him... it is shocking to me to have felt such a connection to him in reading his word story...not as shocking was feeling cosima nearly resembled lauren sophia... i have other books to get to yet nothing that feels urgent...they say if you took the time to look at each painting in the hermitage it would be eleven years before seeing all them...i translate this notion to books knowing it is important to decide which ones to timeshare and perhaps especially which ones to revisit...is wagner revisiting? did i read enough already? well, not if i feel this way and certainly there is a second part i left for later being convinced that in some ways i was reading about myself... bell jar syndrome, when else does this happen, rarely... lotta does not like berlin and i felt a pain in my left bicep as i settled into the scale ritual... somehwere in the dream both arms were in pain and i sensed i was with family members but it was all as vague as the fog in a hazy london evening...my wristwatch had stopped in that dream i lamented having to go out for the battery...it was too soon, i thought...now i think of lotta's expression, the drained social battery - dsb is both a railway company and elsewhere a bank... in reaction to being uncertain over which path to take, i prepared and re-released "exile's letter" - thinking in the future i will doulbe up on the releases and make them a set of two so as to sort of match the name of the band...two skinny girls - a two song album...well, i;ve had worse ideas...whatever, the wristwatch was in fact all right and my arms lost that bizarre sensation - i should type that i feel the dsb even before getting done with plans to go banking, shopping...excuse me i think i want to listen to a bit of nick lowe.

13 february

i needn;t explain this or that yet on the off chance that somewhere clarity is required, well it's like i'm speaking to myself here - there is a thing that you will not be able to recollect ffrom the fleeting images of dreams, from the overly populated imagination later et cetera and sometimes in the act of the jot i don;t pay heed to the form or even rush in typing so that for example i might miss telling how the resemblance is only an outline since each lady has her own distinct beauty... i later dreamt of arriving at a sort of crossroads, it was a much broader avenue than i have ever been on but from my question it would seem to have been manhattan, which way is sixth avenue and having learnt the path from some stranger bystander i turned to gain ground on fifth avenue...please note in my experience there are parts divided by a park - can't recall if sixth is literally the continuation of central park west...no matter, getting there i find a woman walking two lap dogs...i had reluctantly started to like dogs since seeing asta who i believe was played by both the daddy dog and his puppy son - terribly cute...they are friendly and don't seem to mind me then at the doorstep she is asking me if i am free on satruday when suddenly a karla surrounded by a group of girls appears behind a gate alike the tony roberts obituary picture which held woody and the holy diane well karla eases into my side, i think i notice a belly piercing but i am more concernd that she is drunk and about to slide onto the ground as if melting - saying you can't date her i want you with me on saturday - i do not know what to say...i get up and now thinking of ian hunter's central park and west along with the grateful dead's one more saturday night even if the song that held my attention most recenlty was a jockey full of bourbon by tom waits...i suppose the music comes to mind after finding a certain scale which is said to incorporate five scales in one but more interesting to me was the added notes which line up all the notes in any key as well as the chords - that is to say pretty useful for improvisation and writing if one were to keep strictly to the notes or chrods in the scale...it was happenstance, someone named andrew clark, so i decided to learn that, it's like a big blues and eight note box with two notes on top of wherever one decides to play it so key of E starts at the tenth fret and so on...weird the things one misses but yeah that is the only tip that made any practical sense other than the very pleasant stitchmethod guitar guy that has a masters degree in jerry garcia...usually there;s a lot of crowded words with little meaning so i felt it right to mention them...of course to really learn i would only recommend watching what john 5 does...yeah it's heavy but unlike metalheads he does not shy away from slowing down once in a while...in my excitement i brought in the dominant pentatonic to the roster of daily ritual...i don't know it yet but i that was how spent most my day...thinking well i will prolly not need so many scales but going for it with the logic that to continue in this fashion makes sense as every time i have missed a day or two i always notice the truth in what jerry said...it's like a bridge, a place to gather one's self...at this juncture my only real issue is the argument of speed...but i feel speedy enough when it comes down to it and i know i don't want to impose a playing style upon myself that in the end could only be useful for a few songs... in that sense, perhaps it is why i only know the outline of some solos without seeking to replicate them...a cover band is not in my to do list...there's something about substance over flash i suppose...but i've most likely said too much on the topic - i hesitate now as i struggle with the italian in the film i am viewing...as if saying i understood that other movie voided my roman ear...i woke up near to hunger...ordering, reluctantly, chinese food, justifying the cost by thinking the leftovers will balance it out... i went to sleep again after another round of scales and nearly only thought about lotta...yet it is still some sort of frenzy in my vision...reflected in my dream running around in what must have been an airport shop, strange word duty free i don't like it although not as irritating as diatonic...i don't know why...uhm yeah i remember trying to decide between a mint listerine and a regular one...all the while packing, all the while worried that the plane was leaving without me - when two suits settled in taking a eyeful of my old tamrac camera case...they sat next eachother on high stools...i was explaining how i could not explain how the dust gathers inside a window shut room and how they might want to remove some of the messy particles before going further...they looked like they were from some federal agency...as if one had been cloned to get a perfect partner...who could argue with himself...i turned away to continue packing and to check on the departure then awoke - someone i had not met had actually taken something from that dusty container about the time the gas line next to the stove was punctured...here's the problem with being raised catholic...even in dreams one might be polite or even nice to people that deserve the stark opposite...it was too early to make sense of it all... not that i wanted or wished to...there was a late notification that made it seem as if lotta had just posted but at three in the morning...studying the matter i saw it had been from eight thirty. someone on social media detailed the process of vision with an emphasis on how much we miss from the broad field which is reduced and translated in the mind which returns it to be seen perhaps understood...that might be the situation with any given guitar scale...the connections, to me feel endless, that is the potential sequence cannot be seen entirely since selecting one run leaves all the other races still in place...we see a series of notes yet there are unlimited options. in any case exciting or exasperating depending on one's point view. one might venture to say jerry's continual search for new methods was merely limiting the exasperation. hopefully that is true for myself as well, ah look valentine's day coming in soon... union station kansas city missouri mass shooting parade anniversary no i didn;t know it was a dj that had been killed...much less by a man sharing the name of my favorite rock and roll spinner...

15 february

dream conversation with lotta, her face looks powdered, i am telling her she is fine without the tanning effect...i don't hear an answer - i don't get through the italian film leaving the last few minutes for the second viewing - i decide the film is like a dream yet i can't place the actress as she, celeste i think her name is feels so familiar...i come to the conclusion of sonia as a last resort...i browse through the reviews, they are all curving on mixed, they mostly implying it is sexist...i think of the kids in the hall skit now, yes my film is a very sexist film...well, the film is once in a while sensual...yet even the critics can't help mentioning kubrick and lynch when speaking of it...it is that visually stunning...the giant laughing child of the professor that sits couch potato like in front of a television is the kick in the pants for me, there's no definition or description that could explain those minutes as it conveys so much in itself...so when the beauty employs the word beautiful it is itself an ending - perhpas i wanted that to be the ending... although i didn't consider it until the present... in stark contrast, the gorge, the next film i viewed went some ways into excitement without resorting to the gimmick of nudity...although nudity has a hard time being seen as trite...hell, even wardrobe malfunctions make the news rounds...lotta said her legs felt naked in spandex, i felt naked upon awaking yet i actually was...i had dreamt of galvan - thinking how difficult that type of job must be...well, like an influncer always needing to be on point...the last couple of times i thought about filming myself i have encountered an against it sensation in the fashion of suddenly not feeling presentable...spiral into rabbit hole debate about being vain, self- absorbed, et cetera... where was i, ah yes, i found that film thrilling if only for the fact that the main characters literally fell in love...not to mention the chess scene which serves to remind one of the queen's gambit...now then, saturday - story ideas i will not write one, yao restaurant poisons writer and strangers mock him for being ill... sotry ideas i will not write two, publicity lawyers for democrats haggle with the new york post over the price of a feature article... story ideas i will not write three, man speaks to a female relative via telephone, the relative kisses her husband and the man feels the presence tingle upon his lips with disgust. the triad in simple terms has a minor third and diminished fifth... i don't know when i first saw the crossed out circle symbol or how i remembered it when seeking to update the circle of fifths diagram...

16 february

didn't i stack pants in my 3k closet, the dream reminds me...or perhaps it was lauren sophia and her design seven slacks...that apartment suddenly a school - i am dressing, the detention lady is standing tall in the hallway - i turn to look away from her - emilee is behind me, smiling, smiling before braces, i want to say i don;t know if this is real...i get up and play scales concentrating on the dominant pentatonic, i go through the ritual then slide through all the diminished chords only liking some of them...i return to bed partly thinking of the word be-love-d, bed love, a term helena was using, there she was nearly showing her b, but i thought it weird, like a hidden hurry all very cute yet clandestine...if he were you wouldn't you be honoring her in your own profile...well, it is safer thataway, i suppose...what lennon said, hide your love away...i drift off to dreams without giving further pause to any of it, hopefully everyone is happy in their own space and time... the dream then turned out to be too much for me to handle...lotta had moved in and we embraced... we were caught trying to decide what to eat... she had had tacos in a video i viewed, rubbing her belly in satisfaction as if to fuel the fire within brooke...i speak out what could make a menu from the stored fridge and pantry items...she pulls out a fish from the freezer and then another fish, one is red and full bodied, the second is a couple of headless fish, some sort of filet which seemes to be her choice, standing in the kitchen i am telling her that was the most wonderful hug i have ever experienced...the door rings before she responds but i start to fret that she does not feel the same about the embrace...a group of men stand at the entrance, one handing me a guitar that is packed too lightly and the other pushing in the box i suppose i am eagerly awaiting...a third man puts a box in my palm, i open it as they leave but have no idea what it is...the weird fate to behold and expectation and not recognize it...i don't have time to spend on the puzzle - wanting to return to lotta - yet somehow there are visitors in one of the rooms, sister is now in the kitchen explaining the situation, from a glimpse they look like some sort of boy band... sister's daughter is also in the kitchen kneeling in front of the stove...i hear someone at the door again and find one of the locks missing, replaced by some rinky dink padlock, finally returning to lotta, she explains that she didnt have the key... so i don't mind it so much...yet there is another knock on the door, i am starting to get suspicious, men are going back and forth up and down the stairs, as if trying to peer into the living room...a strange man in uniform appears and everyone steps aside, there is a counterpart with a similar get-up, he is almost singing, announcing himself as a captain yet as he nears i notice it is a salesman, not caring for whatever it is that he is peddling, i shut the door but find my bedroom door ajar and one of the laptops opened... inspecting it i find someone has fiddled with it and it is in the process of re-establishing itself, the screen looks sleeker more modern in some way...still i am upset but the boy band is rushing out before i can get a word in...i reprimand my sister for allowing such chaos and pour water on her daughter;s head knowing it would or could dismantle her hairdo... all at once it feels like a very long time has elapsed - there haven't been any boy bands she knew since menudo - it takes three, four hours to fly from the city to here, much more from sweden...yet i get up finding it has only been a few minutes...half an hour certainly no more than an hour...it's the middle of the night and i don't know what to do except maybe clean the kitchen which leave for later, putting it on the back burner as it were - i didn't want to love lotta yet in some partly selfish way i do...evaluating the scene i see myself as hyper in contrast to her cool stance...i see myself as too eager to please her when possibly i should not optionize in order for her to please herself...maybe it was the first time we met in some other life and i was merely being a kind host...the minutes crawled, an hour later still no clean kitchen...scrolling through social media i hear tom waits' green grass being covered by a woman intent on playing it with barre chords, i want to say something to her about chord shapes, but when the lyric arrives at if the sky falls - mark my words, we'll catch mockingbirds...i sense that the bond track was lifted from this poem...one's in C minor the other in A minor while both have something identical in terms of feeling - gemini flash tells me it's possible yet impossible to prove...the thought takes up another hour as i listen to his recording and also a live version...i suppose there is nothing to be done but even if ai disagrees, i do think or to be more exact feel it was lifted... in any case, or otherwise, i feel all right...i suppose dreaming of her sent me miles away from loneliness, set me up to even clean the kitchen in the wee hours. please note maise williams has a film club ! dang why doesn't someone tell me about such tidbits...ps, if i had to be concise about it, this particular dream scene was like kia jade's little girl picture with tee that either said angel or anger and i couldn't tell if it was heavenly or mad...

19 february
dreamt next to a girl, like someone i met, she is very near and i am looking at her passport...it's filled with grey and green holographic images, body grey, hair parts greenish...none of them are clear - sort of outlined, sketched and in motion, gifesque as if she is dancing, a few imply nudity... i pull out, from the first page, some items she has stashed there, cards, a fragment of an id...she in turn gives me a picture of herself then of some other girl, darker like a vampire - i recognize the image but vaguely...i awake to no certainty, all at once distracted by my waiting for the guitar and haul to arrive and recollecting an earlier dream wherein a dog was trying to bite me and i forced its teeth into itself, teeth like the dark girl, sharp and long....to think of it that was strange considering i had found something akin to affection for dogs after seeing asta and son in the thin man movie series...i started to watch all is well but that didn't go so well - the brutalist went a bit better, yet i cannot fully understand its logic...it's not direct on many levels and i believe it was trying to shock the audience more than once as if story would not suffice...one likes it yet as it is not a true story one has less to hold on to in terms of liking it except for craft...in another dream two fender basses have arrived, i had one that came in a nice leather case which was later given to a cousin...in the dream it seems to be him judging it as i remove the strap for some unknown reason...in retrospect i cannot say who it was except the words were not in english - i got concerned that someone had tried to spy upon my new axe before it arrived...the only thing that has arrived so far are a few roaches seemingly desperate to munch upon something... even skirt's milk plate...even after cloroxing the floor...very strange, i had the sensation they had gone through the eyes of some onlooker possibly envious of the cat enjoying kfc... in another dream i am once again with lotta and she is saying there is a steam room in the gym and they drove down...yet i awoke then to imagine the rest of the sentence...sleep let me slept a lot except today both anxious for her trip to hamburg and a third turn at berlin as well as knowing for certain the delivery could be any minute now, well day time hours...so up all morning then a proverbial cat nap of an hour or less afternoon...barclay is a bank i think, but in a different dream i thought it barque lee or so...i was at three k leaning against the door perhaps holding it against intrusion...yet unlike the actual door, there was a space i could see through...there was a kid there he seemed upset over living in such a place and rushed out to what looked alike midtown explaining to the thin air the type of building he wanted then pronouncing the barkley sounding word as if breathing life into the idea...i stood there watching, something appeared to be under construction yet it was reddish in plastic or perhpas blow up balloon material the type one finds at used cars dealerships waving whatever way the wind breathes...i suppose it was one of sister's kids, but an insane version. i wouldn't know...as if in response i later dreamt that i was making a call to her yet one of her exes picked up the line and i pretended to have no idea who i was speaking to as i left a message for her that i had telephoned. to skip back a second, berklee comes to mind...possibly in augmenting the scale ritual which is a type of construction i have inadvertently laid down the foundation of something that is flimsy... or someone wants me to feel that it is not built to last... anyway, there is that quirky twist where the names of the scale are usually several and of course berklee varies the definitions possibly in mixolydian being termed locrian although i couldn't tell from memory, i label them with the common name and note alternative names when interesting...speaking of music, the mentioned 'laudanum' has been delayed...i did not understand the question, and defined it as being the way it should be, given that it had already been released... however, i was informed that 'exile's letter' is now available again...

20 FEBRUARY

i might have regained the schedule i feel a preference for... the day was decidedly weird, i watched the last showgirl - while washing dishes and wrangling a steak onto a plate with the dead bugs rice and a sprite...it baffles me that rice does not exactly freeze...i always liked pamela because there was always something gentle about her nature...yeah, gentle yet carefree...this movie was not gentle and felt crafted to make a specific point...billie gave it an excellent balance so even the parts one sees coming a mile away don't feel so wrong in the end...it must be better than i am implying since the first hour flies by in a flash - it was over before i had time to serve myself at which point i returned to manhattan melodrama and man woman or teen am i glad i did although i was a mess of tears at the end... it should be illegal to view such fine fare from the 1930s in the midst of what is being touted as terrific...neither the brutalist nor the last showgirl can rival it and that is truly saying something...i wanted to end the day there yet restlessness had other plans...plus a call with background talking took its toll in displacing me beyond pleasure - i got up from the failed nap to kill another two roaches in the kitchen - i went through the scale ritual and had an inclination to investigae sweep-picking, in a sense it is like re-learning the entire rhythmic process, what i found is nobody tells you that it is sort of backwards or inverted, that is to say - for that type of playing which speeds up certain phrases - one actually is required to slow down and steady the right hand strum nearly contrary to logic...i got the gist of it in one pattern but soon lost the flow as if it would only show itself on a whim, yet in trying it with my own invented pattern (using the same limit to save strings as i do with scales) i found something i rather liked but have yet to decide if adding this would work for me...i might not have the patience in my right hand to settle down that much...to go in the opposite direction of what feels natural...when i finally got to sleep the dreams did not feel natural - one aunt was sitting on me and i could see myself shirtless in a mirror's reflection writhing in pain, then another aunt handed me a two story frame sort of like a flattened doll house...there was a devilish demon in the top box seemingly passing gas right onto whover was in the lower box and that party appeared cramped and filled with sorrow - i believe she also handed me some money and after contemplating the bizarre duplex, i walked down the hall as if going to my room but one of my uncles got in the way, this getting in the way became physical and i pulled off part of his nose as if it had been glued on without giving it much thought and escaping to my destination except of course at that point i awoke thinking how weird that had been...as i write it now gogol comes to mind...i guess some folks have no sense of humour- although excited to see that i had partly reclaimed my hours, i stayed in bed and then dreamt of three different types of food...a woman stood beside either a turkey or chicken, there was an enormous pot of rice, and something fried...i was asking her for all three and she gave me a plate containing my request - except i didn't feel like myself and actually did not want to eat and didn't instead surveying the surrounding areas of the scene as if trying to pin down who had pinned me down in such a mundane or perhaps fat man;s dream...this all turned into watching some sort of masturbation with someone hidden wherein all i could see was a dragonfly emerging from a penis, repeatedly well i told you it was a weird day...anyway yeah dragonflies swimming out and flying...needless to say i was baffled and awoke then, still sort of early and hopefully early enough to get back on track...in pre-dream sequence thought i did feel a squirting of sperm without motive or movement and the surprise of that moment possibly was the impetus of the scene...that sounds strange uhm the origin of the species no that would be worse, the catalyst of such confusion...burroughs said he could will himself to ejacualte without using touch - didn't think it was true until now. i don't want to ejaculate via thought and or thoughtlessness although i do wish i could conjure the delivery of my new guitar and haul just like that.

21 february

post- dream realization...maria has a dragon tattoo on the side of her torso...it's like angelina's tiger except that is on her back...the day went by mostly expecting the delivery which has yet to arrive...at the end of it, after being enchanted by the early parts of the western named the plunderers, i sat down confident into the ritual and then a second attempt at this backwards method but when i got through the scales, it was like being at the start...i was perplexed after coming up with a self-invented pattern that played near perfect, there i was trying to figure out how i had done it...the only difference was that i had been sitting on the sofa whereas now i was on the english dinning chair i continually borrow from the table... it couldn't be that i said to myself putting the axe back to its resting position...of course curiosity took hold and i tried it again on the sofa without success...it reminded me of my struggle when i need to record a vocal without playing guitar - which more often than not requires that i at least hold the guitar going through the chord changes without ringing them up - needless to say, i was highly anxious to give it another go upon waking and yes in both seated positions, and no i did not get that wild groove that i thought was cool enough to continue the method...i am entirely not sure what it means, my instinct tells me to keep at it and record to see if i am simply not hearing the thing right...it is kinda quick... in any case it might be that the weirdness continues... in my dreams, i was directed to a room, it felt like a hotel, i went into the room...three people on a bed...like a family, a mother on the right side of a father and a grown daughter on the left side...i could tell they were actors yet i cannot say who they were...i neared to glimpes the father's forehead which held little font letters typed...alike film credits or studio branding - touchstone pictures...maybe since i was near to anxiety over the guitar glitch, i now postulate that some studios have robots in place all ready for extra work and who knows what else...we'll save a fortune on catering... dream going shopping and seeing sister buy a pineapple... dream again in the living room except now there are dead people there - that is in reality, in the scene it all looks as if real time natural except for the dogs...the dogs race through the kitchen and two of them remain at the back gate door looking back in - like double omen german pinchers... the woman is berating me over my diet and the man is being no help - i try to answer either that i have never had much desire to have any meal or that i take vitamins in case my eating habit is not balanced...i got up then not at all feeling easy, as it was more like meeting imposters posing in bully disguise...i recall another scene, finding a replica cell on the floor and turning it on then contrasting it with the one on my desk...a boy stands next me nearly annoying and squirming the way boys do when they need to pee, i tell him the bathroom is down the hall and thankfully he leaves...i suppose i was shocked at not finding the groove i thought i had learnt...retrograde? a differnt me that missed that method meeting? perhaps merely invisible intrusion breaking up my concentration... well at least this western is one script that even licked some of the actors - good golly, there is some great writing in some of the lines of those early scenes. it's gotta be one of the batman scribes, i think to myself. sioux teepee, well it would have licked me too.

22 february

that photo play was wroted by bob barbesh who did some tv work although not the caped crusader...the film held no further fine lines but it did have a cute twist... i was pondering over the feeling or lack thereof regarding native americans when out of nowhere i heard leonard peltier had been finally released...also, to be clear i'm pretty serious about that sixties show having wonderful writing; "i'm not just pussyfooting around this time," - catwoman. holy hole in the doughnut, what happened - asked robin... i was playing the intended riff on the tenth fret instead of the ninth where it belonged, but then i started to weigh and worry over my right hand technique...i hadn't thought about it since jerry said he simply held the plectrum like a pencil which is exactly how i styled my strumming...yet in researching the matter, i found this terminology...scalpel picking, sorad picking...some insist that pulling the thumb into play and angling the plastic is the way to go - it looked like a good idea until some others insisted that this type of torture will kill your thumb after repeated playing... a riddle a day keeps the riddler away? i did chance upon a good reminder of something i was only partly conscious of; keeping the thing as near to the playing area as possible... i studied some chet atkins and decided from all the sources that i had to allow my wrist more flex instead of forearm which is usually where i feel a strain...the thing that strikes one about chet and even john 5 is the ease with which they transition from floating through the strings to picking...as i returned to give some of these ideas a go, i found - perhaps too quickly - that i don't want to hold the plectrum with my index finger as indeed i hold writing instruments between thumb and middle finger - the scalpel or sorad way is much easier on the forearm but i sensed pretty soon that it pressured my shoulder - also it seems too much thinking would be required to swiftly turn away from these inner curved hoverings to say chord work...so no new ground gained yet in being more aware of the action of the plectrum hand i feel improved - not necessarily faster and positively not near to an expert sweeping although without effect and without muting i can see where i am making it more difficult than it has to be...most people doing are employing distortion, and many of them also mute by way of palm...i guess the great thing about all this would be keeping my self learning... indeed i was too self-confident and or set in my ways in terms of the guitar... funny thing, due to atkins, i fixed one of those ring style plectrums on my thumb and it was like magic...like an instant return to where i thought i had reached...still, i don't like the clamp feeling and do not intend to fingerpick...it was what i first learned, and have some dexterity plucking that way yet i really don't enjoy the sensation of it... strange dream, girl posing for a picture, one of her tits exposed yet she was curved in such a way that it was in the shadows...i wanted to look but i didn't want to be obnoxious and awoke wondering if she thought i was 'staring'... sauntering in another dream through intricate pathways of a hotel that had different elevators for specific areas, it's me and possibly lotta or at least in my mind it was - we arrive at the end of one of the elevator's top floors yet still need to go up stairs, a penthouse, one would imagine, there were very nicely carved wood doors leading to a bridge like corridor filled with supplies for the guest rooms... she was walking ahead of me through a maze of pink satin... stacks of them, pillows or perhaps cushions...suddenly i am in front, another set of doors, i am reaching to see if i have a key card at the sound of someone speaking about it but find only what seems to be an id card in my backpocket - there is a lap dog behind the doors and it starts to pee foward more like a fountain than a canine...i see her nearing except now being carried in a sitting position by a man i don't recognize...she is resting on his left arm and he his steps show no sign of effort...there is joy in her eyes when she catches sight of me...a hotel maid is collecting items from the room and i am now reminded of mila in some movie i felt neutral about - maybe it wasn't lotta and maybe i was only wishing it was - then who...well that mystery has no answer presently...i got up then to give practice to my research which you already have the conclusions from in the earlier section of this scribbled thought-note... swimming through emotional seas over what the scene might have implied or meant i finally settled down and dreamt again - it was a race, i mean people were running and i was too, i was running in the middle of them...it was not like here with the race to see a lover, it was more like central park except i believe i have only jogged in riverside park which is really by a river whcih becomes clearer as one goes down from the university area into the 80s and then 70s where it seems to end at a pier...sometimes there were boats - no matter, in this dream there was none of that and no one i knew exactly...simply people running - a couple of them speaking about a witch or witchcraft - a woman races ahead and appears to be explaining something about the columbians or maybe it was the venzuelans - either way it didn't make sense and still doesn't although it does give further meaning to 'everybody's talkin' which i heard a few minutes ago...

23 february

in the middle of a starman bowie nostalgic sensation, as lazarus yet entrances my senses...the prelude sentence is a quasi-apology in case this note makes not enough sense...i'd been up a while trying to remember what i was shooting at in some earlier dream then deciding it must have been a mix up with some model talking about shooting and my inner child with plastic green soldiers went playing...i wasn't really sure what to do as i sat and pondered...i was very happy that lotta had had a goodly great time with her friend...as for the concert, what struck me was how gracie's strumming seemed like a bird flapping in opposition to my idea about steadying the arm and such - so being sort of content until i found no one had mentioned wolf man was a julia film, i didn't do much except create a new design for one of the domains, mourn the story of kadance...look here i'm in heaven the song tells - fredickson i can't figure out why the name sounds so familiar to my ears...mind's eye started a new series of art posters in pin up style...i was pleased with my persistence as gemini said no people i superimposed the desired effect...square used to be slang for nerds... squared away then thinking again of how to balance the names of scales...amazed myself in not recognizing the flamenco scale...perhaps i was drowsy by then, how cute i thought only to realize it is the self same scale as the jewish...more commonly phrygian, but also freygish... circle of fourths furnished usually as fifths... "A fifth of whiskey he could knock it away - I drink some more and it's judgment day" a hiatt song dylan covered with a blitz clapton solo - years i ago i read a short story about some dude driving with bob in a car that went off the cliff into a lake, the narrator worried over drowning that great american songwriter...i realized that might be the root of my mext dream as i sort of identified with it at the time, like the neil solo in chrissie;s down the wrong way - the adf is projected to gain twenty percent of the vote which is double what they got previously...i got wolf man and hope to enjoy it later with a sandwich and chips...burroughs had a datsun, i don't think mick actually drives yet he was behind the wheel in my dream and i kept glancing at him and then at the road ahead in a concerned motion...you know some people simply should not drive...i was asked once if i drove and drunkenly i said yes of course - they gave me the keys to some car and the task was to move it from the street into a parking garage - alternate side of the street parking madness - i still cannot explain how i managed it, everything was fine which i suppose further proves my theory that a lie can become the truth or the power of faith - where am i going with this? i don't even know it's automatic it's typing itself in a sense...in the dream i arrive at a decidedly western town - as if having gone back in time to settler days - dust hovering on the unpaved avenue - i'm looking at it perhpas feeling the anachronism...a swarm of mice and crawling insects rushes through the place i stood - the scene from herzog's vampyre came to mind - kinski brushing away ganz...keith looking at me like someone that had seen it all before... i awoke feeling highly congested - shaking head to clear nose - i drift back to sleep without dreaming...awaking to laura sophia informing me she lost her hair tie while on a sunday run... i puzzle over the implications and or meaning - my erection taking more than the left over coffee and marlboro golds to subside...when i peed it felt like i was standing there for half an hour - so there is a difference when one is let us call it hydrated...i blame lotta's bottle but i am not bothered...it's likely better to drink more water than less...the rumour is that the expected haul might arrive tomorrow, monday...i have made a resolution to not party without miss mecey and so needless to say if there is revelry she is invited. excuse me now, i need to eat, care for the plants, and dedicate a couple of hours to miss garner.

24 february
wolf man was not good, it was great...a howling time...i got so excited i brought in two socks from dances with wolves for the list art... too great to sleep...i stayed up way late even knowing that i should have been up early...then i kept sleeping even past noon...i had deployed my new vision of the site redesign and it mostly a smooth process...it was my first time trying deepseek, that via websim, and i liked how intuitive it was yet each update took more time than usual and i turned to anthropic's claude so as to put it all together...minutes later, all i needed to do was add a few more elements but everything worked and albeit yet a work in progess, i am enjoying it...i was not enjoying the news of a slanderer being given an award by sag yet later thought perhaps it is a put on, a joke... i did love that demi won which felt like other people understood the film as groundbreaking in terms of genre...one might classify it as a horror film or even another category like i think the golden globes did, but it really transcends all that in a sense establishing itself like a forerunner for what follows it - my pre-dreams were crowded, something lotta had said seemed to trigger a sort of chain reaction...as the light rose, i knew my intended plan to be awake in case the haul came in was out of the question - still, in asking at the afternoon curve i was informed that wouldn't be today...manifest destiny? in a dream, a woman, i am not sure who, touches my torso, her hands under my shirt sliding this way and that, she is saying terribly nice things to me...yet in not recognizing her, i did not feel the emotions or excitement one would expect...i like the song love the one you're with yet in practical terms and it seems in dreams or at least this one love or even lust needs to be placed with a specific person, otherwise it would be like that - her getting lovey dovey gooey and me going how did this happen...my silence in the dream preceeded a series of scenes i do not at all recall - i know i was dreaming but i suppose my thoughts were fully distracted, occupied with the worry that i would miss the delivery thus extending the wait, with lotta's trip back to sweden, with knowing i had to clean the cat litter but didn't, with another 'moderated' note which i later found was over the 'album' cover art...i didn't want to get into it and switched nora barnacle for some 1920s dublin church photo...my apologies to jimmy as i feel certain he wroted that poem for her in his chamber music songs...at least for a while she was on the cover of my goldenhair...weirdly in experimenting with strumming styles, i notice that the lead work in that track must have been partly a sweeping motion to get that trill - i remember wanting to use a certain pattern of notes and must have hesitated the strum while quickly trying to fret the right notes - i say this to myself noticing how similar that was to finding that sweeping groove and then having difficulty recreating it...not that this a preoccupation no, since i don't sit around later practicing the song after recording, it makes sense...now later down the line if ever put place together a song and then start practicing it only to find some difference or difficulty in rhythm well then i might have something to seriously consider... based on the scale ritual i don't think it will be a concern, beyond that once you learn a song it is like a part of you...nearly impossible to forget like some say about riding a bike, the balance simply returns out of nowhere even years later...why am i rambling on about this...nevermind, i didn't mean to make a simple point into an extended paragraph... prancing into the final stretch, i think of the line from kansas city, son of a bitch talks more than i do...i light a cigarette, i recall someone in the dream grabbing my left forearm and trying to lead me somewhere - vague details no one i knew yet later memory said spence school cross walk where the girls seemed to adore me but the man grabbed me in that dream fashion except trying to lead me away...i;ve lead myself away from the logic of this note...my point was to underline how that film, wolf man, would make an excellent starting point to study the wolves in film...but also how it signals back to the logic of crocodiles which is also named immortality...still, i am either not quick or smart enough to see if i am right much less to make connections that are sensible - anyway it should be enough, even for my quizzing mind, to say that it was an unexpected surprise...indeed, very cool.

25 february

i followed through on my plan, getting to sleep on time despite having woken up only a few hours before... i had been thinking about leni without a specific reason or intent...well she was in lotta's video - then i dreamt about lotta, this time nearly certain that it was her - except it was in a most unexpected setting...a laundromat, we were speaking and she had her back to me as if making the sure washer was washing or the dryer was drying... she was telling me that i was incorrect about her, that most likely i wouldn't like her really or much less love her...it was about the way she looked, i fixed my response upon what i felt was certain yet i don't know why i was touching her hair and face with such familiarity...if i met anyone it would not be in my plan to be so instantly intimate ...she was dressed casually yet in a circled reflection on one of the machines i could see her vaguely or in some blurry manner without clothes which confused me as it seemed contrary to the point of the dream if in fact there was a point at all... i suppose i woke up then trying to convince her of her own beauty and wondering over the reflection... i sensed it would still be too early to start spending the day awaiting the expected delivery - i drifted back into dreams with a sort of surprise close up erotica as if i had gone down on some girl...pulling my head back to peek at her pussy with a redness one does not find in the common colors one encounters...some would say pink, i don't know, i don't think so...pink flowers always seem lighter to me...what i do know is only the devil has more names than the vagina...as i turned to find out who it might be or where i was in the dream, it all shifted into another type of intensity wherein i was back in three k - in the main room before the furniture had been moved and before mother rebuilt that antique dresser...father or perhaps his ghost was going to bed but where mother usually slept - there's someone with me i cannot see and i mention the placement as if it were a scene i am directing, then like an actor or maybe an obedient spirit, he moves to the other side, in a drunken slide motion - i feel a sense of comfort knowing things are in place - then in the blink on an eye the bed is crowded, there are kids there, not children, yet i am sure not adults...they all seem hyper as if he were haunting them - restless yet neither at play nor leaving like they are all stuck there...i awake feeling weird over the vision - the news tells of a bridge collapse in south korea...three dead, i thought of mother's illogical and nearly hysterical arguments over matters so trivial that their memory cannot be conjured and how i wished i would have sensed her senility instead of anger or trying to match insults...later the news reveals four dead...the remnants of three k are in four d...it was about two in the morning...bitcoin was making a scene yet i was not inclined to think too much about it...i sensed a probing query as if something or someone needed my reaction to father's passing again, yet it would or will have to suffice once more that there is none...the algorithm extends into chet atkins videos as i find him saying everytime he looks in the mirror he thinks of his father...i had taken out the hallway bathroom mirror the other day...as if indeed the answer comes before the question...then further, mariia ariia posted pictures of flowers her father had sent and hse had settled into frame... lotta says she does not have daddy issues, but i reckon we all do - mashed potatoes and eggs, i was overtaken by hunger...morning without mourning was rising, possibly it was lunch time in sweden...i plan on staying up the next nine hours in wait unless i hear otherwise or if by luck it arrives earlier than that...it all makes the day feel much longer to be aware of what is missing as the minutes tick away as if one were on a job...maybe it's how skirt feels when i go to bed and tell him to watch the perimeter...hopefully this will give me a chance to update some art in the film list i have been planning yet waiting for a perfect feeling like yesterday with julia... post script, there is was again the road to hell paved with goodly intentions...late in the morning all my inspiration and desire to put place this or that here or there and even anything else went into the not so wonderful wasteland of worry - i will need to contain my sorrow as well as explain the circumstances and situation as i am both too emotional to be coherent and also it would be wiser to wait until hopefully i am proven wrong in this case... having settled down in the afternoon, i went to sleep early but found myself nearly chained by wrong number call i had received...imagine racing to the phone expecting the courier to say they are their way only to have to be reminded of someone you don;t necessarily even want to think of... it was an unsettling type of bizarre...still, i struggled out of the icky sensation dreamt... awaking about two hours later debating on having coffee or not...i would need to sleep a bit more in order to allow myself to wait around again tomorrow which in fact feels as if it had already started... i was in a city, most likely a foreign place i had not been to, at least not yet, at least not outside of dreams - i'm with someone but i can't see them and we are standing outiside some sort of quaint shop trying to get in but it is as if we worked there...there is one of those rolled down metal gates part way up implying someone was inside already - i try to look at who the person with me is but i still can't tell - a man comes up to us placing two dollars in single bills or maybe three, yes i think it was three dollars and eighty five cents - the change in dimes mostly and a few nickels...he is asking for cigarettes - i look at scattered empty packs and find one that isn't tampered with handing it to him...so perhaps in the dream it is a tobacco shop like ezra pound wanted instead of the pressures of writing poetry - now i consider it more likely than someone searched my messy trash bag outside and was excited by the marlboros although i doubt i would throw away a fresh pack - anyway there are now a stack of things at the entrance and the gate is rising...we are picking them up and i notice one of them is a money box - i have a sudden temptation to chisel a few bills from the top but i walk in with it intact, hmm with its content intact - then i am no longer there but again with lotta at a cafe bar where the waitress suggests some type of mixture with two different drinks, soft drinks, one of them coca cola and the other some sort of tangy lime fizz...i mix them differently know she likes coca cola more than i do - we sit there and the surroundings feel calm the air pleasant yet when i turn to pay the wallet i pull out is the brown one i possibly overused a few years go... there is no currency in it except the bills from the time i had carried around with me - somehow as i am explaining the irony to the cashier a magazine materializes in my hands and the price on it is seven dollars so i offer it as payment, it would be more than enough and with a vow to pay the check anyway upon my return - in the dream i did not return instead finding myself in some sort of party - lotta had checked into the stadshotell which i estimated at twenty minutes from her house...but the scene was at some apartment, me and a handful of very happy people who handed me george w bush in a basket in which he sat in lotus position as i then carried him trying to find the right place for this presidential container that would otherwise have been a floral arrangement... i kept turning and looking for approval but awoke with my left bicep aching...i thought briefly of another anya who was happy to have a free evening - i thought of lotta and soon after found she had made a second video channel...'it was simply a secondary personal phone' the punchline from last year i never understood the hype over... meanwhile we were all being swindled by democrats... of course i am going to make coffee even if the sprite is halfway swallowed...i;ve already unwrapped a pack of marlboro and wroted this note in the hopes of distracting myself for what i concerns me about domani as the italians tell it...i will haunt myself for a little while and hopefully keep time with my wanted schedule. my apologies for the mystery, but everyone should already know that timing is crucial and i don't wish or want to jinx the next day by a word tantrum.

27 february

how did it go...three women found dead in belize... trachtenberg...hackman, wife, and dog found dead in new mexico...it's gene i was thinking about a minute ago...realizing how it really is like losing a part of the family...i love him for the fact that a couple of his films made mother so happy...now then, my word tantrum would have been how my sister in a bonehead act went and shipped the haul with the same folks that made us wait months to deliver the goods last year...obviously why i was so worked up with worry expecially since the guitar was involved, in fact two guitars...the other one sent out a week after...i must have walked to the balcony view several dozen times, before finally deciding to give up and give in to sleep...it had been a very long day except for a conversation with rachel, well possibly rachel, since people have been known to pose or pretend to be rachel chaleff for reasons i cannot fathom...further into that last waiting hour i got a call saying the package would be arriving in half an hour...forty five minutes later indeed it got here...i couldn't believe it as i sat eating chessmen cookies instead of a substantial meal for dinner...i waited until morning to break out the axe...everything seemed more or less in order but the pick guard appeared a bit worn...it wasn't in plastic like the pickups or the headpiece triangle...still, a beautiful six string - for a while i was more into the ernie ball everlast plectrums and how the new slide fit my fret hand...i placed the shirley jackson id and the cover of we have always lived in the castle stickers between the pickups and under the part where the strings from sort of a mini-harp...the more i looked at it the more i liked it - i even started to dismiss the mess in my thoughts which found them entangled with the delivery man upon going to sleep and then again upon waking...so that i didn't even remember my dreams...i hope it was that he was thrilled by my very generous tip along with the potato chips and soft drink i gave him in the hopes that the other guitar gets here carefully and before long - previously i had dreamt of brooke who wears tattoos i remembered her first one was dopamine chemical element and the last one i saw was the pizza slice bicep...in the dream she has on under one of her eyes like a an initial of a signature...the scene came to mind when talking to rachel, happens to be brooke's sister's name too, i thought of her umbrella photos and how she had blood splattered beneath one eye...anyway i suspect the cool thing about the rhoads jackson is how it seems to urge one to play and explore the "lower" frets, that is below the twelth...i've never experienced that although i have yet to get it in tune and really play it...i had also got a red strap but i feel now it does not match...filling out the warranty i notice it is guaranteed by fender, i suppose why they call it fender special run...i also notice how easy the waterman feels...i got a few other things notably pepsi but i don't want to sound like i'm rejoicing or something - if you feel tempted into envy or even sneering simply say inky had to wait until february for his christmas... my apologies if anyone was expecting all the details - the rolling stones were correct you can't always get what you want...i did get lotta's new english video venture finding i had been pronouncing her name incorrectly all these days and nights...i now pronounce you misaccentuation and influencer...i knew the title of the clash's koka kola yet doubted my own mind thinking who would name a song koka kola... well two skinny girls called the song they we wroted with emilee counterrevolutionaires which is up for re-release asap...i thank rachel, chaleff not pufky, for the motivation in getting that done. ps, those higher frets or lower as i call them are more meaningful to me having spent more than a few minutes on the acoustic wishing it were easier to get to say the fifteenth or seventeeth fret when i only had the martin to work with...wish me luck and pray for gene's soul to rest in peace alongside his wife and puppy, the world has lost a powerhouse.

six march
i am tempted to actually revamp these notes and make this a new starting point...it is wednesday and i remember - with a certain degree of lament how weird sunday had been...i suppose my own fault for thinking it would be good to wait until monday to jot down the thoughts that were jumping like improvised jazz in mind... besides it was was the oscars and although i wouldn;t be watching i figured it better not to make waves against whatever that was or would be...i also felt i had to wait and see what lotta meant by her deployed jittery video which seemed intent on skipping past the events she had pointed to earlier in the week - notably le boheme at some opera house in sweden - i went to sleep partly pissed that someone yet again was shouting at the exterior entrance of the building - although i quickly dismissed the sound being self involved within my self and all the things i had wanted to note here it felt later, as i awoke, to have have shaken up my peace...i had no precise dream memory and the next day a series of scenes were recalled which blended into a blur each one lasting only a few seconds...i would term it a sort of imposed insanity much like that senseless giddy feeling when the mind swirls without any warmth in its journey - a cold hilarity that haunts whatever tranquility follows...even lotta felt very far away...at which point i was borderline angry - then the market called claiming they couldn't get the smokes i like...i was like great in the sarcastic sense and settled the locks on the doors to purchase them elsewhere - i picked a place that i had been to once before, the customer service girl that looks like cristal...i couldn't believe later that i felt her attraction but chalked it up to my own skewed version of events...or perhaps it was really cristal as that would make more sense...but my idea was to smoke...the other cigarettes arrived too, yet lotta kept feeling more distant - i had been sort of upset by the fact that demi faced the irony of life imitates art by being - what most sensible folks term - robbed of her rightful place in a sense by a younger type woman...still, the fact that the slanderer didn't win thrilled me, filled me with hope...as did my research into the jackson flying v - yes i keep looking at other guitars to buy - but only out of a mood that is inclined to not get sucked into social media scrolling or go topsy turvy browsing through porn in those times wherein it mistakenly feels as if i have nothing to do - or playing the chess app loses its charm - but that guitar felt, despite the fact that i have yet to plug it into the amp, like nothing i have experienced, like a revelation, like new pathways were suddenly opened, yeah i liked it but after really getting a sense of it i love it...even if i were willing to spend the money on a gibson, i would still take the jackson because of the frets...the katana or whatever its called ends at 22... the sensation i got with the jackson was that i had two sets of frets. oh and the strings that came with it feel exceptional which itself hints at how the choice of wound might make further magic...i started calling her shirley and wrapped her in my robe until the case arrives...i have set up the amp to play but have not found a nice enough moment to turn it on - i continue my ritual on the ibanez which i never named but i suppose by logic it would be nicole - not making much progress on the sweeping but some improvement yet it struck me that the source of inspiration for the exploration, meaning jerry garcia, did not play in that style...not even tapping either, to think of it...so i ask myself is insisting on expanding into that area contrary to my goal...my instinct tells me it is even if the idea is to learn not emulate or imitate...i sort of enjoy doing it even if i do not have the so called practice habit...and i worry that it might not be instinct but merely being lazy... also do i need to impress myself in that way? dream of man in gold mask alike eyes wide shut pointing awaking nearly in palpitations... i was not, turning to other thoughts, not impressed by the reaction in the media to the meeting held in the white house recently, the actor puppet who made the z war what it is really sat there and threatened the united states, oh you don't feel it now but you will...then people were being critical of the president for standing up to this bloodthirsty clown...shocking. i hope there is a another confrontation with the one question, where did all the money go? i watched dead money, it was a trip and i was especially happy that the actress was not treated like an object... i also didn;t object to hagen and in fact started thinking hey i actually know what most of the words mean...with some effort i could easily be fluent in german...of course like the italian, my knowledge felt fading upon hearing faster talk...location is everything might be the only truth - living near folks that spoke beyond one's learnt language would obviously turn the tide in a sense...but that is an argument for schools i suppose - i did suspect vicious was going to be too much for me so i skipped through it even if one of the actors amazed me by a sort of alchemy i have only ever felt with zelda adams...romy gevers... all at once emilee and lotta clearly envisioned at her countenance here and there...before that strange sunday love removal machine yelling, i had dreamt i was on a double date - me and emilee with another couple - it looked to be a plain room and all four us were about to have sex - i remember feeling her right tit and finding it unusual - as if sloped...looking over at the other couple i asked her to wait, i didn't feel right, like it was sleazy somehow...no idea who or why - maybe someone trying to go back into the recent past...perhaps my own nostalgia, in any case she was very cool and did not insist on fucking - so we walked a bit quietly and i got up...got up feeling it had indeed been no dream at all - a printed memory...weird. weirder still is the strange sensation as the week continues that in thinking of lotta i am confronted and confused by other women...i don't know the reason or how this might be resolved...on the surface everything seems the same and she is going to paris on friday...yet the feeling is now foreign...dream unusual scene, i get up from bed to pee, flush the toilet and it goes backwards overflowing then flooding the floor - there is a girl here or wherever that might have been - distinctly two rooms - one with an air conditioner neither of them anything to go on about, plain...there are perfumes on one mattress, i pick one up trying to read the label but i am also pretending to be nice to perhaps get laid...but suddenly as if reflecting what has been disturbing my thoughts lately, my sister is there and thus the dream has no resolution - another scene another woman is fixing sculptures, well carvings, wooden - in the dream i think of laura sophia's ladder - yet there is no clarity - meaningless, helpless, i have no clue as if staring at an out of focus abstract work of art - it could be this or that...not like lara, recognized and accounted for yet that scene told no story except seeing her...a cosmic sort of cosima - i heard some story about a private mission to the moon...i was re-reading we have always lived in the castle for the sake of my new guitar, the jackson not the kramer - and in the early part the narrator speaks of freeing her mind by setting up shop on the moon...oh wait there was a horrific lady in the plain room scene, she was touching my face and chest and i was pleading with the other girl to get her away from me - i can still sense the greed in that touch...imagine to want so badly to be caressed and instead encounter such a scene - i've made a note of EWS yet presently i cannot recall what i meant to shorthand...sometimes one hears something that drowns out logic...the implication that a big time university, which i know owns plenty of real estate, has no dorms - sends a storm into the mind...of course i myself too often speak or even write without weighing everything but i don't want to go into a rant as this feels like it also pulls at one of my screenplays and that is obviously another story in itself - the alessi jug fell out of the fridge and later as i thought about my grandfather, it happened to be the anniversary of his death, i wondered...now, i connect it clearly to carrying that silver tray crowded with drinks for sister and her brood years ago here then feeling as if grandmother had yanked my arm not wanting it used to serve someone in that tribe - tribute to spirituality, i guess one thing that bothers me is folks that refuse to admit the fact of spirits. i'm trying to not jump to conclusions, but i sense the recent mix ups portend to an end point...i nearly weep at having this confusion over lotta...yet i can only wait to see what will be...que sera, quo vadis... quicksand party i am sinking in the middle of what looks to be models...confident women all of them paired up...i have a memory of jan, my quip in the elevator about garlic pizza, it keeps away vampires, to which she said, and everyone else...so the setting was like that space but not exactly...i stand then sit next to a dark haired girl and she is very inviting, i notice then they are all pressing their genitals close together - imagine a sitting position but with their backs to the floor - jelly fish and exotic aquatic things, seahorses, swim and float to and fro the vulvas the labias the vaginas and in some cases the anus - i have not moved yet it is also as if i'm floating - hovering over all of them - then further invitation to join in the sex aquarium i guess you'd call it to which i said something about lotta and being shy and having to go all at once as if words brought me through descending elevator into waking reality - i had worked one night at the pink pussy cat parlour down in the village when that was mel's gig and a few years ago i dreams=t of him when i was in 3k - the shower flowing and filled with turtles and squids and the like that were speaking and flapping around as if sending me a message i could not and still don't understand - in the shower yesterday trying to rid myself of what can only be described as whiplash - that visited while scrolling through social media - i felt something beside me, it was one of the curtains that had slipped out of place...i sensed lotta yet in some sort of well slow motion blinking - she was actually catching up with a friend - later posting photos that had the photographer's reflection in the frame - marlene talked to me about fame, i thought of the hiatt song...i thought of my own songs briefly as the notification came in of their 'release' - obviously, these had been out before and i was truly more concerned with lotta except for of course hoping for their success not that i ever felt them as failures no but more so that warner brothers would meet regret and want to sign up two skinny girls so we could say no, man, we want to be a columbia recording artist, well sony...well so long for now it's the day they opened Tutankhamen's burial site in 1924...a century ago...they asked if i prefer my time travel going back or forth, without heistation i responded thataway. there is no future without the past, the previous sequence of events...in fact i honestly believe there has mostly been only repetition since world war two. ps, i ordered communion wafers for mom and have a devilish excitement to meet her reaction.

twelve march
i actually have too much within my mind...listing the films i watched and skipped the last week and the book i glanced at before the typing started... so yeah the wafers arrived as did lotta in paris, i remember it was the self same day i tried all the variations on the jackson plugged in...dear me i can actually tap on this axe like some sort of piano...so that was a freak out minute in a nice way as was feeling her presence for a few minutes about the same time yet as i put place the six strings away i sensed i was looking back at myself somehow, like the instance with the guitar has somehow filmed and playing in my mind's eye...time then slowed and i surrendered to a strange wait...for ms stichler which only felt ironic having made it a point to be awake early for her only to wind up lost in confusion...in feeling myself near to judgement and or blame - although a natural reaction - i started to feel concern for that instinct since i had no idea what she might be going through... when i went to paris a woman told me i couldn;t smoke outside charlie degaulle and i joined a crowd that was all smoking next to a no smoking sign...is the whole thing going backwards, arethey playing our song...what was it you wanted, what was it i wanted...in a not so simple twist of fate i quoted a verse from arthur mcbride as a sort of farewell sensing that her idea of forever meant only a few months...but here i am on the bordeline of passing down sentence...the fact is i am not sure what went down and can only say that my feeling was pretty foreign or far away from the sensation of her...in starting to query my own emotions i further deleted instagram and telegram...which i know will sound extreme to some yet didn't and doesn't sound foolish to me exept it underlines that lonesome feeling as if there were less people in the world - anyway for all i know she might have come to dislike my affection/attention and so i redecorated the domain sections that had her featured...upon her return the only unusual thing she posted was a bottle of wine with a fish on the label...i suppose your guess is as good as mine...dreams didn't help, i only recall a handful from the past week; a bone jutted out from atop my right thigh and was nearly reaching the table, someone was in front of me and i was trying to play it cool while wondering what to do then awoke. in another scene, i was in the back seat of a car, a man in the front seat turned around and said something but i haven;t a clue about the words since he looked like someone out of 1960s history book...bizarre...then last night i dreamt about soraya who i have not had contact with in long while...in any case it wasn't all sorrow as i went out once and hit up wendys which served me the greasiest breakfast fries i have ever guessed upon with salt - flies, literal flies, were hanging out on the back row dining tables...i was making my way back from getting a phone book and smokes and trying to get a taxi back, since being hounded by law enforcement in the past, i don't carry a cell phone with me when i go out - i turned into a lighting and lamp shop and made my pleading speech for their help with as much humor and patience as i could manage, one of the girls walked away and i followed feeling she was on her way to call a cab, maite, maite, was terribly nice. it's an app she explained using the full word - application...she even walked me to the door and waited to find the car she had contacted, i was so moved i touched her right arm as if in love...later i felt that had been too over the top...although sometimes it is exactly what a person needs, a wordless thank you in the form of a caress - i felt that way sitting in a library once upon a time - librarian touched my arm so gently it felt like a an embrace...i'm in no race but i have improved the living space some - oh yeah and the flying v got a redesign which turned out divine although at the time all i could think of was lotta or what had occured that now felt beyond any cure...i even started to mistrust my imagination - well, we will i suppose see what happens - today she did mention something in passing about a friendship breakup yet it is hard to know what she meant, what she means - i only know that i don't want to chance further stabbings in the dark as it were...my imagination is equally too tame and to wild upon certain turns and even shuts down at the heart's weeping...where was i, ah the guitar decore - looking at the cover, i took a listen to we have always lived in the castle reading by kalin hollingshead who does a stop and even restate while presenting...a couple of chapters in i decded to turn to the film...the one with taissa and alexandra in it...now i have read the book and seen that movie before but it was clear that once was not enough - i suppose that is the case with anything worth the while - in yet another failed attempt to see adolescence i turned to the prizefighter and the lady wherein i was awed by the song and dance number - there was no awe in lumina, although i always enjoy seeing eric roberts - earlier i was getting into 'the awful truth' yet due to technical difficulties i wound up watching a very weird screwball skit named 'that uncertain feeling' which looked to be the origin of more than several subsequent films and songs - the weird surprise was 'the capture' circa 1950...well if westerns aren;t out of your way...far away in my own new script inky is put placed in charge of shaping up the catholic church, he commences by castrating all the male clergy, some insist on keeping their cut off parts in a preservative container within the lining of their wardrobe but mostly they are thrown out in the unused backyard that is adjacent to the makeshift clinical lab were the cocks meet the knife...as time passes a tree grows there sprouting dicks of all shapes and sizes, some call it obscene while others claim it a miracle...some of the priests even party proclaiming the godly power of their magic markers - nuns are found fornicating and even tasting the tree... inky is at a loss for what to do until finding a woman with a gold tipped dildo in his spam messages, ordering dozens of the devices he instructs the nuns that have been brought down by temptation, they are categorized as the eves, to secretly massage themselves as they see fit...the pope gets wind of this part of the story and suffers from shortness of breath which requires hospital care, there is talk that inky will be let go even ex-communicated yet he sends in an expert team from the nordic lands to give the pontif a full body rub down while playing songs from the argentina of his youth...the recovery is immediate and meetings are held to iron out the kinks as it were - the film then replays in reverse until the credit rolls as inky "starts" to work...well there then i wish i had better news but i don't except that the kramer has cleared customs and should be here any day now.

13 march

any day meant yesterday yet not only that...the kramer arrived with the fender case i had ordered due to the price and it turns out to be a perfect match for the ibanez...yet not only that as then i was informed that the rest of this haul was nearly all set to be sent out...if a month would countdown quickly then i might also have the tele i settled for instead of my desired next guitar along with the flying v case and the rest of it...now when i say settle i do not mean i didn't want it too... two tone knobs had me a bit confused, the whammy bar didn't feel right, and the fret edges pecked away at my index and thumb, but oh how i adore this mahogany body and maple neck axe...it is a strat style like the roadstar, but i have owned a fender stratocaster and in some aspects this is actually better, it beats it by the way the neck feels uhm even with the cutting sharpness which obviously could be filed down easily...in weighing it i recalled why never really wanted a gibson so much as they felt so heavy...although i did like my very old les paul junior very much...still even with that - which i then had a nice warm tube amp and chorus pedal - there were was no sweetness in the tone...which this somehow has...maybe i merely learned to play a bit more by now as opposed to way back when...but i wasn't trying to play as it were i was tuning it up and checking the switches as i sauntered through some bebop scales and chords...how might i explain, it was like a backwards sigh at the surprise of hearing what is that, resonance...vibratoish reverb...a real emotional sound which i believe i have yet to exhale, that sigh went in and was lost in the shock of oh wow even through a shitty ancient high end of the low t-power amp without any effects the kramer rings out a gentle force that could rival any ringing...my only other note is that my die hard cord somehow felt too tight in the jack socket as i struggled to pull it out although it might have been due to the angle of my pull as that didn;t happen the first time. oh yeah the color, in this case the red one or ruby as they call it, is a sort of pastel - neither bright nor loud - as if subdued seemingly more pink than crimson...the real twist in the story is that if i wanted to i could switch out parts from the roadstar since they are nearly identical yet i like it so much that i even have second thoughts about replacing the pickguard as i had planned...and yes i wouldn't want to ever disturb my ibanez...my apologies for the guitar porn. in any case i hope this note helps anyone on the fence over an inexpensive kramer. the price is a lie, and there is a lifetime guarantee to repair the thing for as long as the purchaser owns the guitar. i need not say more on the subject except i hope and wish to have another kramer down the line. in dreams i felt easy, yet once again i wandered around in some dark city landscape evening while carrying a woman upon my back as one would a child or as a reader might imagine one of my earlier dreams...i had the notion it was emilee yet i also had the idea it was lotta...no eyes in the back of my head...a car had turned over seemingly after too much speed - i neared and a leaned in to see a woman upsidedown, hey she started to say as if everything was entirely normal, how about we go out and get some cocaine...the lyric to west l.a. fadeaway and sue belle driving in palm beach crossed my mind... i got up then thinking to type it up but i knew if i did i might find myself awake too early thus taxing my cigarette stash more than i wanted - i went back to sleep still in the sensation of being content over the new guitar...the day before i had dreamt of another woman put placing a piece of meat into a frying skillet - it seemed to be seasoned only with rosemary or oregano - i rattled out of the scene as the first part of it started browning in the oil - then tonight well this morning even if in los angeles it is still only very late in the evening, i had casual scenes that once again wove in and out of memory's view as if merely sliding by as if to say nothing to see here or everything will be allright somehow...i thought of india maybe more than i wanted and then wroted these words. i want to party with a pizza but i can't order one for five hours or so...six in the eastern standard time zone...i imagine lotta is having lunch by now...hopefully none of my doubts or weirdness have been an imposition on her...or others.

14 march
in a picnic table dream two sisters sit across each other. they have matching haircuts. very short blonde bobs. one of them is next to me. on my left side. she is speaking about her haircut. it was yesterday. that is about all i hear. a plate of food is passed. the picnicesque table extends past my view, i can only see a dark haired woman sitting on my right side... as the plate is put placed near me a man approaches the sister on the other side. he is giving her a cooked baby carrot. no, a cooked baby corn like the ones mei sauteed in szechuan style restaurant second floor broadway before gambling the place away. i watch her open her mouth and swallow the thing then awake. the day had not been eventful, i ate some of the pizza thinking of julia mecey, i started to watch the devil's backbone, but i was still too distracted by the new guitar which i eased some with a nail file which did the job but then i had a bit of fret buzz on the low e string which resolved itself by getting the axe in tuning...i then removed the strings of the martin acoustic with the intent to upend the glued bridge job i had performed years ago when i didn't know i had to clamp it down while letting it dry. my job was too well done and i couldnt find a way to undo it with desire and knife - put placing the large kramer sticker where the pickguard came off some weeks ago i tried not to worry about being stuck with such high action on the neck, i might have even thanked it for giving my scale ritual extra strength, i have extra strings but put the same ones back - i entertained the flying v with all the pentatonic scales thinking how it is really the one to use for any type of lead guitar work - it was the first day in a long while that i did not play the ibanez...later i couldnt resist another round with the kramer and it was then i noticed that the unplugged sound vibrates nearly equally from the back in a sort of stereo effect wherein i could hear a bit of the tone that i enjoyed so much when it was amplified...in other words another surprise perk to the magic i did not ever expect...i went to sleep early lamenting having to plan to go out for cigarettes given that the shop i order from was yet again out of stock - after what i am calling the picnic dream i dreamt of an asian woman's picture...she was holding a guitar but the photograph had another side and in that other picture she was in a squat, legs partly spread - her genitals visible below a nearly wicked grin...i got up then and jotted this down. post-script, i keep looking over at my new guitar and wonder how long this excellent feeling with last...yet the reason for adding to this entry follows, an experience i have not encountered before and found baffling; i was thinking of gene and how the last news of him -before the sad story of his passing - had to do with a pie...apple pie? well, whatever but it was about the time that tampere was released... i adjusted the cover and pulled out the record, needing to make the level-sent wav into an mp3 or flac file...i tried three or four places with each informing me that the converted file could not be downloaded in lacking a scan of some sort... this being an 'opera' browser - i switched to another browser and got an mp3 version, then it would only upload eighty percent, i converted again and the flac went through however the serial number came out as already in use, maybe that one is still in some stores? how would i know...frustrated and with a sense of desperation i finally put it through obviously having to wait to hear when it will be re-released...all of it feels to strange to even say like a tongue twister - packed peter pickles piper pecked checked and rechecked - by the way laudanum is still yes still in that limbo wait...my apologies if anyone was expecting it before this or whenever it gets back to its place...for the more curious, tampere is a city in finland...i locked all that i could lock and put placed an extra padlock on the front gate leaving to search for the cigarettes and gather up the milk and eggs i also had planned to get...that at least was a success and even grabbed some camphor on the way - i was told that there was a credit amount at barnes and not so noble and responded that if that was the case i wanted a specific shirley jackson collection - i felt her or perhaps e. moss while making my exit... in the magical world these things happen, i was not taken aback. i proceeded to play the entire scale ritual on the new kramer...i picked up a film called borderline which put the madonna echo in my head... i don't know how i know so many songs and also don't know so many songs in some sort of inner contradiction - oh well at least now i see how oh babe it ain't no lie when the dead were jamming and jerry as if possessed put placed some antique ballad into the air and bob questioned, i think it was bob, so that that simply came to your mind out of nowhere and he was like yeah - not as impressive as hearing moonlight play in my head upon listening to grace's new song idea... no gatekeeping, i did tell her...had to look up the title which felt weird because i learnt that entire record at the same time i got into open tunings for blood on the track covers...i suppose it's like burroughs' dream machine .. some sort of revolving mechanism that spins itself invisible yet lets out a light every so often...not that i can claim to recall all those chords but seeing i am way past being concise and to the point let me conclude with the title of new screenplay well synopsis..."THE NIFTY END FIRST"

ides of march
( prelude note, when i mention the film replaying in reverse), i mean exactly that except with variations in shots and soundtrack...possibly lighting too. i explained my notion idea to mother telling her that the nudity and sex would be done in a way that voids exploitation as well as not exceeding the story itself, all the good or great films with naked scenes are like that, one remembers the narrative not the exposure - i have second thoughts in terms of it not having an action sequence yet i don't have much more than some younger priest trying to duck the decree, getting on mopeds and being chased by vatican guards in of course vans through the curving byways of rome... (pretending i didn;t see that note), when i hit the play button on borderline i couldn't help continually hitting the skip ahead button until finally it came to its end. it looked promising even synchronistic in starting at the end like i was thinking for my spec, but it was a red herring, once the 'action' started it was neither entertaining, informative, or funny...i don't know why they made this like that and wished i had missed it...now the devil's backbone felt like genius even if pulp in contrast... the title on the opening is the deserter i think, maybe i should have deserted that movie before having to write about how much i disliked it... (positively new dream note), i'd gone to sleep late - yet awoke a few hours later to the sound of a feral cat howling, i struggled to decide if i should leave the bed and did so thinking of skirt - the cat inside. the cat outside kept howling as if possessed...i had wanted to quote dylan to anne marie, the cops don't need you and man they expect the same, but it was the first time she ever responded and who knows maybe she was right - maybe it is safe in miami at three forty seven in the morning - about that self mentioned time eastern standard i tried to go back to sleep but could not...thinking of her and grace, and india, and rachel with her paypal story, and what alexandra is going to do with her pets when she goes to italy and even if ashley was sending me a secret message yes even if lotta was implying that she'd been here and knew all about me through a sandwich and chips... what i really wanted most of all was to play my new guitar, the kramer even if the jackson was the one i should concentrate on given how it could improve my playing...i got up again restless and smoked a cigarette instead and by that time i was reeling with the knowledge that my love for lotta was a lot more than i could explain...the sensation surrounded me, i am tempted to say embraced me but more likely seduced me...well re-seduced me, reducing me to lay there as if intent on worship, well re-worship... she was even in my dream, i suppose i was trying to tell her something and she was trying to tell me something and in the crossfire of words i couldn't hear what she said while standing next to her by some wall sized windows that looked out onto other buildings, a school i saw later - there was a french school across the street in something burroughs wroted - bertolt brecht says you are a flathead, maybe i was trying to explain how or why i turned so crude with mother a couple of times during a previous conversation -or how some phrases are nearly impossible to translate - the western has a great example, if you ask someone if they ate tongues when they go on and on well it sounds strange in english yet in castellano it makes sense and is even entertaining for reasons beyond my comprehension...as i turned in the dream possibly still surprised that the whole emilee comp het came to mind in the whirlwind of earlier thoughts, compulsory heterosexuality, i could not tell if it was because of her or because lotta's middle name is emilie... in the dream there is a dresser containing drawers where i have hidden away some valued possessions - i cross the loft for it must have been a loft to have such windows - yet upon gazing through the contents i find some of the goods have been stolen - suddenly i turn my glance to the entrance and see a horrid looking man punching himself in the head and dropping to the floor as if a self-inflicted knock out - another man, not so horrid in appearance and smartly attired starts a speech on how he made that happen and how he found and forced himself onto my stash - i am trying to figure out who these people are and how it all might relate to me yet in shake head motion i stand entirely uncertain as to how to proceed then in a rightward glance i notice horses, soldiers upon the horses, all of them bright and glowing, there are other soldiers with rifles - there is a command to shoot from behind them and they do so - meanwhile i start thinking i should get back to the window and without much care for the artillery i make way through- waiting as they press gunpowder into nozzles to continue firing...like being in two worlds - i don't look back, standing at the window alone now i can hear the conversation as the children make their way out and the teacher talks to one little girl about needing to care for her skin as it looked to be too dry - you sure do have dry skin, she said...i had said as much to myself upon feeling my legs in the earlier portion of the late evening. i type this up after gathring my thoughts...i remember being on the upper east side, i had noticed an extra dry spot on the outer side of the top of my left calf before going out, as i walked a little girl, hmm younger than the one in the dream - say that one was nine or ten while this was one was four or five - scratched the self-same spot pausing a second to do so until the woman holding her hand was pulling instead of being in rhythm - those very early students at the sacred heart school wear a sort of italian restaurant table cloth uniform...it is only later that they get the actual school uniform. here's to the frog leap sophomore that made a very cute impression as i went by and she was entering the institution with her classmate friend back in head lice city. (post-script note), the late great american film - writer - director - and actor - saunters in as a general to reinstate the deserter making the devil's backbone a real treat for me...i'm not saying it's worth your while to view, i'm only saying i liked it and the fact that he is in it made it rise a bit above pulp b-movie spahgetti western.

16 march
imaginary drugs felt like they were kicking it in the early afternoon - i was drowsy and didn't even feel much like playing. for a minute i missed having only a couple of guitars since now i always sense the longing to not neglect this one or that... the six strings have been drinking, not me...deadly tornado in the southern states yet i wasn;t looking at the news much yesterday and caught up on the events a few minutes ago...seems awful... kicking were they like felt drugs...imaginary hmm, the pants are if it us true in the mind then it ain't no lie on some level... level, i can hardly stand to use or see that word no more... well, maybe with the exception of tore down, the blues number that is...i didn't get to skin care, opting instead to indugle my drowsiness...who knows, perhaps or maybe i should have waited a bit more...i wasn't myself at the turning of the tide that trips into sleep...something pulling in opposite directions - i settled into dream position as a dog was yelp barking loud and intensely for more minutes than i cared to count as if in response to the previous day's cat howl...the german shepard in the movie doesn't make it being overtaken by the 'savages'... i haven't felt a good stretch of sleep in a while, last night was no different...i recall a dream wherein a man - heavy and strange to me - sauntered near to the bookshelf i put placed in the hall...there had been several unusal noises before i dozed off and certain sounds still make nervous - in this case it was more about jihoon who mentioned falling asleep with her door open and awaking to someone looking in to see if she was all right...so in my superstition, i entertained panic and that possibly resulted in that scene - the man seemed curious about burroughs and i was at a loss for words mainly trying to get him away from myself and my books - i had the feeling that it was a cousin but i have so many cousins i couldnt tell... i awoke feeling neither rested nor inspired...i stumbled into the internet to see havana was still in the dark - i thought about how i should not make such a scene about tidying up the house and simply get to it - but i still had no plan or intent in that area - coffee, cigarettes, suddenly enchanted by a jackson west song that names some famous outlaw, i weighed how wonderful it would be to hear marcus king cover that one - in a southern blues rock fashion...he has his own new song too yet for me it slips and slides too much between the eagles desperado and the allman brothers midnight rambler, not musically but merely from the lyric...the lyric is what i pay attention to mainly...obviously not the case when it's instrumental...in other words wishing these people well...someone was asking people to name artists that had back to back perfect albums...i thought and still think the pretenders II and Learning To Crawl fit that defintion where even 'Get Close' nearly made it three in a row...it's sunday and i don't know exactly what to do - it might be that having had only two left over slices of pizza yesterday and a few chessman cookies wer not enough of a diet to balance myself...damn john barrymore memories made me feel full or at least satisfied...'You shall hear nothing, you shall see nothing, you shall think nothing, you shall be nothing but Svengali, Svengali, Svengali...,

17 march

chinese take out. william wyler's the big country...i was viewing it for gregory peck but it was thrilling to also find charlton heston - yet weird to have a song lyric ring out while watching it - what happens tomorrow is on your head not mine...in any case it was kind of like reading a novel as it lingered without hurry from one scene to the next...cinema houses were made for epics like this one - now haunted by the sunset boulevard line, i am big - it's the pictures that got small! i played all my electric guitars to not have jealousy in the ranks...i dreamt naked girls in my bed that i did not see...i suppose i was still rattled by the stray noises that chimed while i was trying to think of lotta and reach the dream lands...one of them looked so beautiful she could have been a goddess...i slid atop her stopping for a second to look as i crossed onto what must have been another going to sleep scene in silence - i can only explain it by stating that i dreamt i was dreaming easy and awoke with only that in mind...well i also had it in mind to go for a used blackstar id core that was cheap until i saw the delivery and tax added up to might as well get the boss katana...all this came about upon a missing ag spalding pen that had been shipped from italy...from an aforementioned haul...i was also sexually excited yet i couldn;t concentrate...so i played scales on the ibanez thinking how friendly it felt, how i could even be more aggessive without worrying over snapping a string - i even looked over the prometheus scale with intent to memorize it even as i planned to cut the scale ritual as follows; all the bebop scales on the kramer, all the pentatonic and voodoo scales on the jackson, and selected others on the ibanez...that is, after i settle all scores with what i have gathered in terms of that over the last two years of dedication to them...the last ones i learned, i find, are not wholly held in the mind...much like the issue i had with enigmatic and arabic until i termed the later one byzantine...but yeah, seeing that film was like oh i'm james mckay getting knocked about by old thunder only to satisfy myself...if i keep the count low, i believe i will feel more freedom for other aspects of the instruments. it's only an idea but i am leaning in that direction... i was leaning into oh wow anne marie followed me but then the notification tuned away from itself...still, for a minute i could not contain my grin...left over chinese then with red onion as i thought about julia mecey's vest - uhm i should have said that theory, in terms of the ritual, came about while fiddling and finding i could actually recall a rhythm and riff i had learned by ear way back when and realized the scales will be there long after even if i leave some for now...the rhythmic chords and riff well they hardly met such continual greetings...so there was the catalyst, that and going over the specs of the flying v - purplewood it said...i said purplewood? the shirley jackson book cover sticker is none other than purple...there was a groove in the air, not notes but a sensation that i was on the right track...hopefully it will work out...after ordering the amp i went into india's kite, a minute later she was asking for no less than amp...yes i know, yet as a writer i can't help but note it since it sort of proves the groove had carried itself over from sunday into present time monday...lotta said she was editing a video and i felt an expectation in that knowledge which made the day feel a fine sense of hope...i need to plan a snack and put away the guitars which are now overwhelming the sofa... ps, i should have mentioned my panic at the sounds were made to pull more as i pushed through the knowledge that the nozzle of a spray upon the bookshelf in question - there awaiting to be put away along with other items - was found on the floor...yes, skirt might have jumped up on there yet he hasn't been prone to naps or sleep upon that space lately... earlier i had a double take glance moment as if an aura was still hovering in front of that wood. ps ii, lotta's video featured hallon soda - the word translates as raspberry...there are also nicotine pouches named like that...it was her third english video and she was not feeling well - i wished for her recovery and proceeded to visit my guitars again, the new ones... ps iii, i had heard the song 'get together', very hippie sixties thing alike 'love the one you're with'...i would have said it was csn&y...but it's the youngbloods...the obituary named jesse colin young...i suppose it's fair to say a one hit wonder but i am not certain that was a hit song - real name perry miller... ps, iv, playing along with 'alabama getaway' which i thought was in A, through a minor scale in E - stil sort of worked yet i had the weirdest pressure like someone trying to look through one of my eyes... later in reflection it did not feel like it usually had it the past - hmm yes the fan at full speed was louder than the cell phone volume...the axe was also not plugged in...a long strange trip indeed...still, an unusal chord progession arrived while looking up the variations of E6add9...i'm not implying that chord is from that tune. ps, v, on a whim i made the email for this domain [email protected] - given the possibity of spam i am not going to glue the hmu yet if you have a dream to share please send it along...

18 march

i myself had no specific dreams, yet i slept all right you could say or easy...easing into the day feeling lighter somehow...in searching through guitars and lately guitar magazines...i felt pretty weird over a mentioned 'deal' - going to the link, it was for something called fender play, which i guess is why they have put placed all these 'online lessons' on so many of their products, it seems one would sign up for that and gain a guitar along with whatever it is the fp is about...what i found strange is that the guitar is not any fender, not even a squire...no, it is a 'nashville works' thing in the stratocaster shape. it feels contrary to logic...i took out the trash, maybe that is what they are doing...i chopped up a potato and scrambled eggs, excited that lotta was trying on dresses she had no time to wear, yet not finding much to like in seeing the rest of kite... the flaw in the film is that the protagonist is not a superhero so all the 'heroics' are balanced on luck and the action turns favoring the her-o... i was of course viewing for india and for the fact that the trailer looked promising, but i have no words of praise...i thought about cutting my nails and i was craving the sequel to horizon ; an american saga chapter - 1... well, at least i found how or why the notes i tried with that song matched even if outside the key... i returned to it, the kramer now felt new again as if i was only just meeting its maple neck after floating through all the pentatonic scales wherein i kept wanting to continue with others against my possible plan to cut back on them...i could hear the fit match in A yet there was still something with the E notes that made me feel good in an outlaw sort of a way...possibly it's trying new methods that makes me feel as if i am starting to learn the six string instead of expanding on what i already know...yes overthinking it is not fun yet i believe a certain amount of introspection is not bad...not bad at all, canto lxxxi comes to mind, “Master thyself, then others shall thee beare”...

19 march

it was way past my bed time, a bad time, as bad as me... a glitch in the diet - or the bed was suddenly hungry... who knows, not i, eyed dreams blinded by the light... the unbearable lightness of being...hair dressers, chrissie hynde, clean up jobs, donka shoen i'm listing to now, i'll stand by you...in the dream i seem to be in the second balcony, so dark it could have been the forest - lightless - the plant maybe the tree came extremely near, like an embrace - spirits in the night - spirits in the material whirl - i went to sleep waiting and i awoke with only that in mind still waiting...i mean for the right moment, that minute where everything makes sense...the cents of scents...(they call me the breeze ain't no change in the weather ain't no changes in me )- hounding news honduras made me worry over the acoustic - fake news hospital drones from the anti-putin press - laudanum finally released - lotta didn't give up on soft drinks...i put placed a pepsi in the fridge waiting for a supermarket delivery that had long been left on the stairs - staring at the phone once twice to be told - sold out my lunch at least the india eisley film felt easier - at least to the secret agent in me - i'm not sure what the title is, she plays tilly... i spent the rest hours playing guitar - real love was an idea yet i went with all of me in gminor not to play or sing it but to vamp on it...still the pull to piece together all the notes of the scales pushed me into them as i thought oh yeas i should also continue with this one or that in the ritual...i'm all lost in the supermarket i can no longer shop happily - i lifted two windows to let in some of the breeze i felt breathing but several men surrounded a so called tundra car parking it directcly below the opening making for suspicion - i added a pink guitar to my wishing list - listen to the slide rattle on the returned whammy bar upon the kramer - as some lower back discomfort eased some spider or mosquito bit me near where jihoon's heart shaped italian tattoo lives - six dead forty missing - i doubt they are even using coffins at this point down in lampedusa...desolate penne around abruzza details real estate deals...i could buy seventy houses at that price...presently i'd rather buy guitars...i can't understand how i was content before this axe frenzy...i made the right choice as all of me gave me a full three chord banger i would not have found otherwise...elsewhere mother employed the word hippopatamus and i was truly like what the ever living hell is this wednesday...hungry hungry hippo - girl from volgograd at asian zoo - alexandra said she was pure evil as a brunette - i am the man thomas, look at fogerty tappin' up on that ibanez - now then it's hard to hear this wayne without wanting to sing a long, goes a way into explaining ferris beuller..." Oh, he's very popular Ed. The sportos, the motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wastoids, dweebies, dickheads - they all adore him. They think he's a righteous dude."...

21 march

correction, tillie not tilly...in any case- not bad but not good...my feeling is that the director or producer put placed the burden of carrying the film on her...it was hard to believe in some of the other characters and well it was what it was - a cut above mediocre b-movie...partly like the writing, partly like high rollers, like hey it's travolta so we can get away with bad writing - bad dreams no or perhaps, i can't tell - spirit of kafka i was surely studying a cord, much like the one in my kitchen which doubles for toaster oven and ready made clothes washer - vengeful cockroaches who knows - i got up feeling i could have slept a few more hours with ease - can't exactly get used to wearing my new robe - i made it a point to clean up and did so but i'm still making myself wait to bathe or shower - maybe i wanted to pen these words...i felt all right about the decorations - i felt better about finally finding a viewable copy of 'adolescence' - yesterday - it reminded me a bit of rush, not the band, that undercover drug drama that was pretty good...this was possibly the one i've liked most next to the look away scenes...still, the writing fails a couple of times and makes you think nobody speaks like that, nobody would say that - well, maybe i was still feeling critical as it came only a few hours after the other one ended...she was excellent and it's a shame that the rest of it wasn't up to her performance...i remember thinking to look up the list and see if i had included it as it was partly or ironically about a writer - i also wanted to put place the artwork that has been waiting now weeks...hmm the house was too much a mess to not tidy it up - fighting my own inclination to let it be and later feeling giddy over another track's re-release, i had some hard boiled eggs and added red onion slices sprinkled with olive oil and lime to the ordered mael, uhm meal...so a bit too drowsy to hold my guitar yet still thinking about it with desire which led to recheck the gibson app which i had previously installed without it working - yesterday it was updated the store said and indeed that did the trick so i also gave it a place on my other cell phone - i listened to a lot of music and then here i was hearing other tunes while typing...most likely why i missed mentioning that in that she was alice - "From the moment I fell down that rabbit hole I've been told where I must go and who I must be. I've been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and stuffed into a teapot. I've been accused of being Alice and of not being Alice but this is my dream. I'll decide where it goes from here..." i tell mother about lucid dreaming and astral projection decoding meditation from prayer and knowing full well my own impatience in the first area and lack of interest in the second...there ain't no round trip guarantee if you leave your body...i gave jackson west my thoughts on some lyric partly worried that she might not see the admiration i intended. the part of me from irish simply cannot shut up, i imagine.

23 march

i could not say what this saturday was about yet hopefully it's over - maybe it was karla's birthday or perhaps that is today...why does one remember certain dates and not others, a minute ago, through the whirlwind of thought which struggled in vain to find out what i had been dreaming about the last couple of days, i thought of what burroughs had wroted, in this case a question; how long does it take a man to know that he cannot want what he wants? it was on the heels of saying to myself; it's not who you love that counts but rather who loves you. i was loving the idea of odessa, some musical photo play, until it started stealing from the joey king film princess and put placed everything into a much too simplistic view, that is black and white where only the protagonist's hero journey was given value...so i found myself skipping through the thing after the under the boardwalk allusion, until the dystopian torture reel ended...given my disposition i didn't want to deliver myself in that state of mind into i am the night, maybe it was we are the night...a tnt series with india... i hope to get to that soon...chris pine is in it to boot - ninety nine red balloons go by, everyone's a captain kirk - there's a woman on a ladder in my star trek dream - it's a hallway, hopefully not the hallway of always, a narrow space, another woman standing behind a man holding a paint brush, the tyoe one imagines using for watercolors, he starts brushing at her jeans' buttocks and i'm very upset, and i'm trying to stop him but it's all a frenzy and i wake up feeling bewildered...i had at least finally bathed or showered although somehow upon deciding to shave i found myself making the exact move that led to a cut - this time on the other side of the neck...hmm not exact, the first was a jagged motion, this was like the blade caught some angle...there are mysteries beyond the mind - in new screenplay notes, imagination tells me, there is a cup with a living tongue at the bottom that attempts to lick the lips of the drinker when it is used...it must be an evil sect casting itself as the antagonist of inky in the vatican reel...we drink blood from this cup and we don't like catholics...thank you ladies and gentlemen, the plot twist wroted itself...maybe the film is better than i expected...kenny was speaking to john...i heard it once then watched, i was in the middle of disagreeing with mister five on the motley crew point - no, no, not in the same category as who he mentioned...in fact basic pop for me, i wouldn't call it classic rock or even metal...however, having more than a fair amount of respect for the man, i thought i should think about it more knowing full well that i prolly won't - what hit me was hearing kenny say you don't see anybody when you're happening...when i settled in to my ritual and new concepts on the guitar now plural guitars i didn't feel any improvement although i knew it was there - i wanted to paly play chrods, 'heard it in a love song' worked well...i picked up that sliding into a chord from pink floyd, but i seem to have given it an expanded definition. it was after insect bites and insect in coffee cup as the aforementioned mosquito hung around the room like madness itself...attacking my ankles and making me feel desperate...a johnny winter, a skeeter, my libido...smells like lotta is too much in the sun...so i worried over her forehead but the pain in my neck weighed me down out of nowhere and i knew it would be gone once i gave in to the idea of going to sleep...sure enough what sleep, i get up again amazed at how this sort of thing happens, like a folly, like a farce, like a foolish blindness...it's a good thing i was gifted with patience along with whatever talent remains. in my dreams there are no dreams...yet i see myself, the way i think i look, except i can't call this a dream. i heard the words julio is the trip or maybe julio it's the trip...in another language i heard the words there is nobody here...i had thought how annoying it must have been to be in a band with freddie mercury, and i wake up with queen song hounding me...bahumbug it was only a thought - bro, why you mad...mister farenheit, i relate him now to inka - i read somewhere she was out with livin la vida loca tatum, the strings on my martin are rusty - i refuse to switch out any strings even the ones that came with the new guitars... jemima was in alone in paris flirting with champange...it does not feel as if it is sunday...somehow in my inner clock it is still friday...i don't like whatever drug this might be, the last thing i really remember was amanda saying jennifer's body was perfect and feeling as if my thoughts were yelling themselves in the fashion of street fruit vendors...you can play the travelin wilbury's inside out here, but if you need to dance then diana ross' upside down might do the trick - sure it;s a stretch step down from love child but them were disco days...this ain't no talking haeds, hades, hays hell i wonder how it would be if they hadn't forced me to shave in high school...as if i didn't have enought two ponder, finding a label finds me yet i cannot make out the reason...ie, emilee video...possibly lotta emilie video day...i think it's four days in my life, is tangled up in blue the russian novel version of the beatles' paperback 'in my life'...i hope and pray your day is nowhere near the convoluted confusion i have come across this friday weekend without saturday...how do i conclude, obviously with the question, what fucking strings was zakk using that cut him in concert without snapping or popping out, utterly wild...no i didn't know that story until i did.

24 march

once in a weird while now i cannot help but plug in the axe to play along with some song as i notice that in keeping to my extended scale ritual all these weeks and not plugging in well it made me too aggressive in trying to "make" a sound when i would play along to recorded video via my android - with the amp now or maybe with these guitars, i find it obvious that i need to lighten my touch, especially with the plectrum - so very much like sweep picking it is sort of backwards... regardless, i felt very good playing, like no doubt could enter the non-thinking, reactive approach i took, well there is the 'thinking' of let me try this or that before-hand... but it's a split second proverbial light bulb that is more like counting than consideration...all this to say i think i made the right choice in cutting down the scales to get friendly again with the chords...i was lamenting not being able to find i am the night after seeing the first episode - the woman playing the mom was wickedly good - proving how one performance might elevate another...leter, i did find the rest of it although i had to suffer through 'buffering' and was mostly not disappointed, it was then i learned too that it was based on a true story - the police and ethnic angle got to be a bit too much for me - i had this very strong idea about something lotta had bought...then also trying to recall who brian james was...yes right in the middle of the fourth or fifth episode...i think i even felt i needed to apologize, surely one cannot binge while distracted but then i settled myself by holding my guitar and going through some excercise for a minute or two, meanwhile the hawaii scenes were the highlight for me, like there was no hurry or any acting at all, it really flowed nicely...the subsequent riots and denouement i did not like yet i would still say it was worth the view - insane tale...i could understand why it is not on google play or even its mothership tnt which still features the alienist for some reason...anyway, it was evening at that point, i had finally made the steak that'd been frozen in the freezer for more days than i care to admit- but that was well before the binge, it was when i saw lotta's paris video...after the last couple of videos wherein she seemed intent on going in an unexpected direction or even anxious, it was lovely to see her obviously happy...i only wished she would have wiped her lenses before shhoting the finale...i thought of emilee and margaret and ashley as i poured myself into bed for sleep...i don't trust my feelings about emilee due to my somewhat gullible nature, i think maggie was merely trying to figure out seeing her with a lap dog - and last but not least i'm pretty sure i was still surprised that ashley had posed in a bunch of bikinis leaving out the one i said was not a bikini but a disco - i fell asleep foolishly trying to hold on to the image of lotta, i dreamt of some sort of tour dance, i think it might have been on a roof top, guitars hidden in hard cases were being stacked like they were getting ready to go somewhere...i'd gone up there in an elevator - a high rise i'd never been too - i felt the motley crew explanation turning, yes at least they were a success where many other countless bands had failed - then a sun burnt billy idol doll was singing mony mony and i picked it up to put place it with the guitar cases...i awoke then it had only been a couple of hours since i went to sleep - i thought about his videos with the cops and how it made me feel like i had a friend in a desperate time, in a senseless desperation...but i didn't know what to make of it...i had dug my nails deep into my back where the bite itched, or some succubus left her orgasm mark while i slept the night before this...i could feel it tingle along with the razor cut neck, same side i see now - but then i didn't see, i surrendered to not knowing and went back to bed, to sleep - i felt alone and was possibly thinking of mother, i dreamt walking manhattan, the streets not so crowded, a shop had a sort of tote bag in the window with an embroidered vinayaki - the elephant headed goddess which has no exact meaning but arguably cute - language is a virus from outer space...i recall now part of my conversation, when i think of indians i sometimes think of pocahontas which makes me think of grand-mother and then you in that dressed up teen age picture...i suspect wiretappers - going hindu rather than powhatan...in any case, within the dream i walk into the shop with the intention of getting her the carry bag...somehow i pick up a bottle of pepsi - but suddenly donald, trump not southerland, is fighting me for it in an absurd dance and we are spinning around without resolution i awake and notice the overhead fan noise, how much sound does it take, not much, it has a rattle click, i imagine him in stutter loop saying the word if, if , if , if, if, if, but obviously it's the loose screw of the contraption...bringing us full circle to the point of not needing to be aggressive while playing since an amplifier often needs only the lightest touch to translate the strum or pluck...sorry if anyone expected politics, i told you i was not political, i only point at it in protest which i nearly did again as the press posted the shameful notion of k harris for the next election hmm one wonders if m markel will be the running mate...it could all be another "nflx" ($920.60) docu-series with t swift songs...whatever, in terms of politics when is someone going to explain all the financial aid that filled up kiev since the folks fled in exodus a thousand days ago...they do claim over five million refugees up and went...somewhere... if only them funds would have gone to education!

25 march

i suppose they are saying fuck the children, besides we have enough detention centers and jails for the so called minority population...and so the get your gay marriage regime that the nicknamed boss sucks up to allows his protoge to arrive at the john wilkes booth innuendo as if to remind trumpet that there are democratic notes still in the score...they in turn, it seems to me, leak a signal...with help from the once upon a time relevant atlantic now a remnant of itself looking to attract attention on social media - at least we still have harper's and the index... i myself have yet to come across any displaced ukrainian while rambling through the city landscape...one can only hope the current administration can handle the insurrection of planted stories the new york post ironically seems pleased to report as if it made sense or was worth while, at least the consolation prize of having shakespeare mentioned was something..."i hold my peace? no; i will speak as liberal as the north..." some one said it was the guitar that waas bleeding not zakk wylde, i looked at the video, brazil - sao paolo - indeed the strings were all intact...i researched a bit more; dunlop...possibly the string lab artist series...it is said he uses (gauge) 10 - 60...in contrast i like 9 - 46...but i have no mind to think at present, the music pointed to sydney and deleted kisses - like mirroring the ending of the play, hopefully nobody dies but we all know that is wishful thinking - like taxes in the certainty...fires in korea, they said. my underarm moist with sweat, but i am not in motion - emotional thinking gene vincent urging eddie cochran to visit london where he was then lonesome and in turn urged sharon sheeley to join him...ending 16 april 1960 taxi ride...weird...i had planned to start my day playing guitar yet got caught up in that story and decided to care for the plants...balcony...no sign of the shoulder pain i carried around the day before as if i had been holding one of those heavy gibson les pauls i never much liked because of the weight - in fact i felt all right, having awoken thinking i was in the middle of packing something or other in a sort of slinky shape, uhm accordion shape, no clue what it was about then thinking of lotta...it would have been near noon on her side of the world. i'm not sure i feel rested, although possibly i am from all the previous leisure - i did order a pizza yesterday and so that is the other part of my plan for today along with il gattopardo which i wanted to see for deva cassel as she kept showing up in my tiktok for you page...i can't see monica or vincent in her yet it is exciting to know that in a sense she continues their magic, still i am only at the first episode and a few minutes into the second...i don't like it up to now maybe because she is not there yet and maybe because they put placed too much to carry on the prince...the principal character...it's especially annoying if the patriarchy isn't exactly your cup of tea - for me, it's like looking at a composite version of certain men i have known...i can't explain this except to say if you understand the song 'happy' you might get what i am getting at; "Always took candy from strangers, didn't wanna get me no trade. Never want to be like papa working for the boss ev'ry night and day..."

26 march

at one point, the leopard, it felt like a soap opera... and having seen the actress playing her character, i left it - thinking the hype was only that...thinking i still didn't like it - how could it work? italians speaking in english - sure sure some nice settings and costumes and she is attractive and the nepo baby aspect never feels present even if the hurried recap of her character's life looked as if a set up hinting at that angle...whatever, maybe it was the incorrect time or setting for me...subsequently i stayed up much later than i wanted or expected...i had, without intent to record or mix any songs, decided to get acid pro eleven - the earlier version was the daw i liked most and hoped this would still have some of the features i enjoyed - so nervously smoking a pack a cigarettes as i tried to fix the scan for vst having put placed an entire windows folder for it to review, so twice unistalled to get that out of the way...not a good start to it and the folks talking about it mostly don't like it, but how can i fight my own nostalgia...getting to sleep finally i found how nice it is to wrap oneself up in a robe when awaking too early and going for a pee - lotta had been on my mind but not in my dreams - where i seemed to be in the city - night - i was with a woman that was being chased, well hounded, we ran, i saw a man direct two dogs towards her direction with an order to stop her...fucking ai dogs, they did exactly that as if robots - looking at them i wondered over animal skull implants or maybe three d printed canines...we escaped again but they followed and i awoke more curious than frightened - i dressed then entirely unsure about what time it might be... it was still sort of early but i stayed up with a desire to clean up a bit more, the house that is...well, i should clean myself up too after the bizarre underarm sweating that so confused me yesterday...yesterday, what was goodly...oh yeah playing along to some stones songs with the ibanez i could hardly believe the ease and to some extent the speed like the guitar missed being played and was showing off - it made me think that the mind is much faster than anyone can imagine...like those stories of superhuman strength in certain moments of crisis...i'm not saying it was good only that it felt good and i did not expect a mere thought to be translated or transposed into my hands' rhythm...kind of a euphoric feeling, yet strange as i usually don't get that intense in sitting around strumming...still nice, i thought and think yet if it is so casual or without intention then how does one make it happen intentionally...most likely it is all about emotion... a feeling...i also felt goodly seeing one of my comments liked although i worried over the spelling of lucia popp, damned f scott fitzgerald, and then liked even more...letterman called his company worldwide pants...it was about trousers, i suppose the worldwide slacks people agreed..."so you look around the tiny room and wonder where the hell you are while the k.k.k. convention are all stranded at the bar - they wear hoods and carry shotguns in the main streets of Montgomery but they're helpless here as babies 'cause they're only here on holiday"

27 march

out of the frying pan and into the fire...yet i love it - in some ego self-righeous selfish way - when i am right...i settled on watching pearl, for no specific reason other than to confirm my instinct...finding i was even more spot on that i could have imagined, i sat there skipping through it with vindicated pleasure- all the bullshit about it being a good horror film melting away, all the hoopla disappearing...how bad is it? awful. it's only good if you happen to have a prisoner you'd want to torture...i had many chances to see that one but never took them...yesterday i let the curious part take a peek and so it goes... i made soup and felt iggy pop got a kick out of it somehow...i thought to myself, he's the closest thing we have to dinosaurs...bloody bathroom story memory prolly led me to clean my jacuzzi enviorns...i did the room too with some decorative changes...after my own experiences and california i suppose i am a bit more senstive to news items related to fires, wildfires...although i wasn't worried over the korean one, i am now as i hear they are still burning... my dreams were like the fast flicker of flames, so swift, so slide-show presentation fast, so quick i need to recall them in a fake slow motion - of course that would only be the parts i remember - i woke up thinking it had been like a surreal tv infomercial - someone seemed intent on explaining something like i was stupid, or as they they say now like i'm five, i am not smart in many areas, but i don't think i am dumb enough to need visual cue cards as the narrative is being negotiated...i am tempted to say it was a muslim man talking - but would you think sadam hussein or osama bin laden - my guess was hindu, but that would be racist since pakistan exists and then again egypt which is sunny in a manner of speaking - well let us say i dunno - some dude from a place like that, maybe some dude with a heavy tan putting on an accent for mockery...it's like a dorm outside and i am standing there watch-waiting as the images swirl and he's yapping away - like he's speaking about me and what i like to me as if i didn't know - oh yes there's music, he says, the eye lens zooming in on the palm of his hand now suddenly burdened with different types of creams as if a woman testing shades of blush or lipstick on her forearm at some cosmetics counter - but dig it - the scene is like a split second in real time - maybe i am not even supposed to be hearing it, much less seeing it - that goes on for a minute with several other 'examples' then he starts telling about his shoes and some metal or magnet in them that gives a spring to the step as he put it if you were to try to run up the side of a building...they are boots and my eye pans back as i see him start to run up the side of the wall as i wake up feeling no wiser or even interested in who why how where or when well i knew when in terms of my timeline but you get the drift...i was determined to get up still feeling good about the previous day's ending wherein my love for cinema was vindicated by flight risk - i had no idea or expectation except i saw mel gibson directed it and that was enough for me - and indeed i liked it so much i will shut up about it so as not to sway its vibe for anyone else - nothing else of note to mention, except yesterday i did feel a sense of wanderlust, of wanting to go here or there...i suppose it was missing the jackson west concert, although los angeles ain't exactly my cup of tea.

28 march

it was positively a nicole kidman party in my play hours - you remember nicole...to die for...dogville days of thunder the others...if i had to choose-pick one it would be margot at the wedding although yes eyes wide shut is the masterpiece...now i did have some hesitation at holland since the automated management film was - well it was like los angeles - and although it proved itself a higher quality, i was not interested in the mystery...like it was trying to be quirky but needed to be directed by david lynch, as it was it felt well like a tv show - now i only thought this after deciding to watch expats...indeed a tv show but secretly cinematic - even the cast looked as if they were all in...a commitment i didnt sense with holland...but then again i was not having my best day nor living my best life in that time - no i was in fact looking to escape the day and so naturally the movies - so yeah the tv show felt more like the movie than the film itself...after giving up my impromptu hunger strike, i made what is now my usual diet...a turkey sandwich drenched in olive oil and kosher salt...lettuce and lays potato chips... this time both pepsi and sprite...i ate thinking man that woman has been working overtime maybe even sundays but then adjusted my thought since her daughter is named like the last day of the week...later in the evening all this led to me playing along with fifty ways to lose your lover and baby did a bad bad thing...followed by the scale ritual and a few minutes with other styles i am trying to get fluent at...in...in, at... tina, ain't it ai...anti..nati...words words words...i went to sleep not feeling much wisdom or even like myself - maybe i was still concerned over the uneven look of both my middle toes - i had trimmed my nails thinking of the jewess like i always do now when it comes to manicures...each had skin growth on the lower ending...i suppose i need to investigate the subject - i tossed and turned in bed but was well asleep before long - the only other thing i did during my semi-desperate day was request an update for acid pro so that the vst scan works like most others naturally do - in my dream, i stumbled upon some sort of strange altar - all sorts of exotic objects - like a cabinet one uses for china - yet one of the center shelves was more spacious - it had a head, some decapitated thing sitting there, every time i looked at it, it would transform...another face - and another face until what looked like worms crawled over the pink skin in their white slow wiggle...the cabinet was possibly the most important part of aunt's lost house, i told my sister, that is how the quack killed eva, when she was taking mom's blood pressure, of course a knee jerk verbal reaction, but i suspect it led to the dream...i mean why else would i dream of a cabinet...i'd prolly be adored in dublin...but wait, let me ask you, if the atlantic would have simply shut up about it there would be no story, no? point is when you start contemplating what should or not be said well it's nothing in terms of the big picture - pig bicture, swine city i falt sad for using murder on the floor everytime the street vendors roared and have switched to dushane's chicken mcnuggets genius ultimate form for now - or why i love america...purple mountain majesty...the news poured out quake...it said thailand, but search engines all said myanmar...they mean burma and the burmese declared a state of emergency, reportedly. i must have been dreaming when it happened - yes again at the airport yes again partly frantic over the departure time...although this time my luggage looked to be all settled - i thought i was going to belfast but the sign overhead said scotland...and when i went to get my passport stamped i instead pulled out a dozen or so beer bottles, half of them pilsner type blonde ales and half of them full bodied brunettes...the lady there at the counter said something that made me think why not continue my sober streak, it was like she was telling me they have beer in edinburgh...i edited the bottles back into position as if to say then keep these here- i have not been thinking about drinking but maybe since the shop once again claimed to be out of my usual cigarettes i might have been feeling like something was missing... indeed these harsher smokes would work better with beer. i got up early, as i made my dream way onto the runway, i thought about my aunt and how i miss her jovial nature, and mother and how i miss her character...it made me feel spiritually closer to india and especially nicole as i knew their loss...some of the joviality and characteristics are still present yet it would be foolish to expect any further logic from either thus multiplying the grief even before the grieving starts as if one were taking a class in mourning where the homework never gets done in denying or defying the fact...i cannot find myself doing otherwise.

29 march

well there then expats was no let down, there are scenes which exceed wisdom and furthermore it proves how a woman director might give knowledge a twist that would be difficult for men or artificial intelligence to provide...all this to say i was utterly impressed... the day went by without me doing much else except guitar work - well there was some social media scrolling...and a couple of attempts at strategy chess...i failed to get to sleep early and was still awake at six in the morning stockholm time - i was thinking of lotta and it seemed to me as if it had been a long while since i felt that type of thought - a type of nearness...like a dream or trance state - yet in my actual dream i don't think it was her...it seemed to me another woman in a setting i had not imagined - the room therein nothing that would be in design magazines - sort of like that dude that wrote the wedding march - his room could only boast a piano well there was a bed too - but that sort of thing without musical instruments - maybe spartan would be the word - two men are there with the woman and it feels like i am trying to get her away from them, from that place - one of them says, she wants to be with us - it is neither a rough nor gentle voice, a neutral voice yet clearly male - for a second i see them engaged in sexual frenzy - emotionless as if they are merely having intercourse to show me - suddenly she walks right in front of me, i cannot really see her as i could not see exactly what she was doing...she is passing me from left to right, partly naked, partly bleeding...a third man enters the space from the right and lays down on the floor as she silently straddles him with her back to me - i near her and touch her which seems to snap her out of the orgy mindset - she takes my hand and we rush out to find there are no stairs, the whole area is either under construction or being demolished - we jump without words onto the lower floor with the worry that it will cave in - another turn and another jump to the ground floor without that worry - i see the exit, three other men are crowding the doorway - a couple in military uniform - they move out of the way as we pass through - it is bright outside, i don't like the sun and don;t like the dream and awake...i was started contemplating what it might mean - who it might be about - and now i see it also gives me the logical reason for my lack of trust - even if i allow my faith to be confident in say miss x - who is to say that miss x will not be overtaken by others and their scams or schemes...a drugged drink could sink anyone nearly anywhere...i was concerned for lotta and alexander, the first for the pre-dream thoughts and the second as i now feel the irony of the word bottomless - in terms of those scenes - one could say sure honey i trust you but not the surroundings...i reckon it's even more extreme in the case of daughters...daddy doesn't sleep a wink knowing the dorm room key card is as flimsy as a paper airplane...anyway, my rangoon point is; objective, burma! 1945 - the burmese harp - 1956 - escape to burma 1955 - a yank on the burma road 1945 - bombs over burma 1942 - burma victory 1945 - rookies in burma 1943 - moon over burma 1940 and burma cowboy 1941 - to mention nine of the films that currently find themselves in a sort of noun limbo due to 'myanmar' - i don't think title editing or switching is an option...does then burma remain an irony or become exclusive to fiction... dig one translation; birmania, so much more poetic... worse is the capital hmm rangoon now yangon and further now naypyitaw, previously called pyinmana...so even if you learnt your geography correctly you would need to restudy it as if nothing is ever settled, unsettling...yet i do not intend to make light of the dark time that place is being put through - like the idea of a missing child or a drug induced assault, i cannot wholly imagine the burden of such a nightmare yet i wonder if it will make France go well these two billion francs that we are pouring into the kiev puppet dictatorship could be more useful to myanmar-burma people at present...even if i would take the money to fix the french roads before anything myself...that is, "Roads in rural areas accounted for 60% of deaths and 48% of serious injuries in 2024, and 1,928 people were killed on roads in rural areas (51 more than in 2023, i.e. +3%)." from onisr.securite-routiere.gouv.fr but why would macron care if part of the population is lost?

30 march

eggless fried rice, i was too into 'walk like a dragon' to worry or wonder if it meant anything...later finding mel torme's comin' home baby... the film and the song are gems...nobu atsumi mccarthy played kim sung in that 1960 film...obviously i need to review her credits for the film list, but suddenly there is also bruce glover and richard chamberlain... i believe he was involved with some james clavell project, ie the director of 'walk like a dragon'...the thing is i need to get other things together as well...shave, dishes, well yeah me and the dishes all need shaving - i also want to eat and i have been wanting to eat since last night - somehow it is already early afternoon turning late - i need to keep calm and remember i can do it all in a couple of hours - i only slept a couple of hours when i awoke from the dream wherein i was looking at myself yet my face was robyn's...robyn stephens...at that point i was trying to send crispin spiritual condolences...lamenting i had not seen his hotel movie...but still thinking about the fried rice, and to some extent lotta who had taken the oyster bar trip - i went to sleep after a few cigarettes and coffee and slept through the morning only somewhat concerned that i would be late for her sunday video...i didn't look at the mirror when i did rise again after dreaming of looking through a jewelry box that held no real interest for me...they say diamonds are a girl's best friend but i only partly believe that logic...so myabe i do resemble robyn, but i will be sure upon shaving - as it is i am only making light of the dream since i am not as handsome as she is beautiful...when i got to the video i thought lotta was beautifully frantic...she was having a japanese meal, but i got the feeling there was something else she wanted to say...i hope she gets a gig to tokyo, i suspect she will even feel at home there... anyway she said a lot but i couldn't come to any conclusions... it was much like the style presented right before her second trip to paris...well, i suppose it's a wait and see situation - i guess there's a lot more i could say-tell yet silence is still golden...i reckon to come full circle in this jot-scribble, the only jewelry i wear is a ring i self-made from a stainless steel spoon with the triangle there and the label No.305 china...middle finger of the right hand, that side's thumb partner when the plectrum is in play.

31 march

Monday. I had - as I suppose many or most logical folks do - forgot the fact that the ending of life's contract is death. This music played despite the near-daily dive into the obituary sections of sometimes several publications. In this case, I am speaking about the Korean series with Park So-Dam entitled Death's Game... Maybe I should have taken my suspicion more seriously when I happened to feel the sensation of fear as someone began talking of a parade they were viewing via the television...Oh no, I thought and translated my opposition to the matter suggesting church, it was Sunday, or the Flinstones...Now, when I found the show, I remembered the time I had spent looking for it so as not to miss Park's work - having seeing most everything else... I took in three or four episodes after cleaning the kitchen and the argument with nobody in particular that I had ordered a five piece meal and had only got four...She plays death the premise is a suicide being punished by having to experience dying a dozen times until going to hell unless he can escape in one of the incarnations...it's brilliant but I kept thinking how stupidly the character reacted after living as a student he finds himself in jail yet does not think to survive - to escape instead going head first into battles which in themselves could get him killed or consequently thereafter resurface as vengeance but it was a hard luck character and perhaps that balances it like being incarnated into a baby...well, i should wait to evaluate it when it is concluded...they term it a thriller and there it is thrilling but i could not help thinking, dude, shave your head, pretend to be a monk or something, and duck away from everything and everyone...perhaps it is what the writers intended you to think - i will try to get through it later today. Monday. I had - as I suppose some guitarists do - gone through my ritual while being baffled by the chameleon character - then once again skipped working on the list which will be the first thing i get to after this note...it's one of those jobs that, for me, require a certain amount of inspiration - a disposition or inclination since sometimes an image comes into play and while art might be thrown together this way or that it seems i prefer to have the feeling first...since feeling is first...who pays any attention to a battery wrapped in a white t-shirt put placed next to the electricity counters with the dislodged metal door in the building...i had thrown out the trash and found that so very strange...stranger still was the sensation, like a rush of contradictions upon going to bed...collar bone pain as if being pressed or pressured...both sides, right and left in that order and then what can only be called a migraine - bursting throb of temple anguish so bad i got up to see if there was breaking news... the cell phone notified me of a fire in bishop and i figured it was that since now flames in california feel as if they could go out of control - i had been thinking of jihoon yet that makes it sound as if i were in control...i was not, the thought was there as if intent on telling me something but the beethoven in me kept me blind... i actually made more coffee and had a few cigarettes before imagining the fire being settled and the evacuations reversed...in my dream, i'm with a grey version of jerry garcia and there are other guys from the band and he is rolling a cigarette most likely weed which i am expecting to puff upon - he leaves a leaf like section squared out for no reason like he's using e z wider and made the joint with one wing...weir smokes after him and he smokes again then hands me the thing halfway done and wingless yet still nowhere near a so-called roach - i take a rich few seconds watching the ember shine and hand the thing to weir thinking that is how it should go - i might have woken up then surprised over the scene - i'd seen videos of the dead and co where garcia's alligator strat was being played on stage...it's a trip in itself to gaze upon it...for me, a divided sensation, like man that is cool to see but also like man that's jerry's axe...a few weeks ago i had entertained the idea of decorating one of my guitars in that fashion, there are even sets of sitckers on sale which have the alligator, harley davidson, and police helper decal all included...but i thought it would be disrespectful and opted for my own design scheme...i might have awoken but i was still drowsy enough to not notice reality then found myself dreaming again, this time a woman, at her place - we are standing there talking...i am telling a story that now escapes me - something of a prank i pulled on someone - she seems terribly excited by the notion of my wicked humor - i have the sense that it is dakota yet i am acting and she is too as if we had met before, like a friend...well, maybe we are friendly - the scene is flying, like time is on speed...in a wink of an eye i find myself returning - although i never felt myself leaving - walking into the building, i would say hotel but there are several many or even a lot of buildings with doormen - this one seems to be on friendly terms with dakota or the woman in the dream as i reach the elevator he queries so did you really pull that prank on your own...i grin and confess in the positive to his curious countenance not thinking how or why or even much about privacy - was it a private story i shared with her - is anything private anymore, was it ever...there's no business like show business should have been playing but instead the elevator turned into a staircase and i was carrying a packpack with lettuce - her roommate or someone near enough to answer her door sprung out informing me that the food was nearly done and i turned for her to grab the lettuce so that there'd be salad too - i could see fish and chicken being fried separately, she asked like you only ever used to hear on airplanes - if i wanted the chicken or the fish - always in fear of bad seafood, i said the chicken of course. i got up then - greeted the cat, skirt has had a few days where he takes to making sure i am here or there then the speech about how things are going with him which usually ends upon the nilk and friskies...i felt myself blaming the combination of mother's good wishing irony and david lynch's missing pieces for something or other but then came to my senses not with an apology since it still might be true but why bother - why make it a thing, if it was even my thing...indeed since feeling is first...further into now. the blame even when blatant is always a point of view...that is to say even if someone kills you, it's up to you to die.

april one

i'm looking at the overturned penske truck on kneeland and harrison in boston;s chinatown...i had a minute ago been dreaming of vicmary, i don't really know her much but i sure felt myself rubbing my crotch against her knee behind her mother's back...i'd been exhausted, having got up early after going to bed late - even a chord i long ago knew and took for granted became unfamiliar...what is that...imagine that the g major a sudden mystery on the seventh fret...i knew then i was in need of rest and relaxation...in way of clearing up what might be a confusing statement, it was the jackson flying v which itself presents the fretboard to me as if new...but still, once in a while the only thing to do is hit the hay...hey hey my my...of course the main thing i thought about was this couple of paragraphs from the los angeles times: "Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, home to the oldest trees in the world, is in the White Mountains, about 20 miles east of Bishop, and is threatened by the fire, according to Cal Fire spokesperson Chloe Castillo. So far, none have been destroyed in the blaze. Some of these trees are more than 4,000 years old and still growing, dating to the Bronze Age. The forest includes the Methuselah Tree, which may be the oldest living organism on Earth. In an effort to protect the tree, the U.S. Forest Service does not disclose its exact location..." but yes, also the fact the rest of my 'haul' was sent out and is due to be shipped out in a day day two...i am concerned over the date since it might arrive on or about holy week...but hopefully by the end of this april i will get my guitars set up in the fashion i wanted or wished... where was i ah yes death's game, it got wicked good although i felt there was bit too much mothering near the end but that might be for what i am going through and intellectually it is wonderful to see drama take the time to tell a woman's story in full...so i can fully recommend this series without hesitation. later in my dream i was walking with a woman down a hundred and ninth street - the cathedral building might be entered or exited from there or a hundred and tenth...i thought it was mother but now i am not so sure as it was dark night and i was walking the way i usally did before someone pointed out how it appeared to them, that is to say not exactly looking up, head bowed - eyes upon the pavement - in the dream it was like that but i could see my legs and her legs and she said she wanted to pee as if i were the parent and she were a child - so we stopped and she half squatted - i noticed the stream, i noticed too lights as if police car coming up the hill - that streets when walking eastward feels like you are in san francisco steepness or something as it leads you into a more level central park and east side beyond - we cross i suppose for no exact reason except one of my songs about buying cocaine is set in that place - she starts to piss again and it is more than i can explain - well like a horse...i awake thinking how strange and feeling as if i had been put through a work out instead of dreaming...at least i had obtained a carton of the cigarettes i wanted, cleaning my room some i waited to hear from the other place which did call but only to report that yet again they had not re-stocked. i was shocked by alpha dog a few times, in that it was a true story - in that i didn;t recognize anton yelchin, in how angelic amanda was and is and most likely will be...also the only part of it i actually enjoyed. well, at least for trivia it had one of the few mentions of paraguay in cinema...funny, i can see the view from my three k room, the lights from the renovated buildings on 109th street and my thoughts wondering if the curtains were indeed covering the window - martin made a ceo guitar and i told caitlin erin oneill about it, she actually liked it. i have made unsettled plans to go to paris on air france with julia mecey but i can't figure out how to handle all the details...even for a few days i think the cat would freak out...well, this can all be settled later on down the line...for now i will surely try the axe again concentrating on the g major so as to get that glitch out of my system...then again it may simply be that i was telling more truth than i thought when mentioning that certain 'new' techniques felt as if i were starting to learn the instrument all over again... ps, acid pro wroted back without an exact resolution yet i deployed my concern in other words and hopefully they will get that vst scan fixed in proper fashion.

april two

i thought later maybe ihad got - hey when will apple make an ihad- hmm, ihead...ihold...ihide...well i was thinking maybe i had got mixed up with the lady from the bank that phoned right before i went back to the guitar - it was for someone else but later in the evening i found myself dreaming of some type of bank work - but i haven't met that woman...no other dream to report after being startled by the notification that val kilmer had passed away...the director of heat had just been talking about the sequel...i was thinking of that film and tombstone although the only real memory i keep about the vk, is the riot he caused in me when he did the narration for some film as an added feature...it was more powerful than drugs, i literally could not stop laughing...in fact it's one of the few things i remember about the apartment on sarasota...all this to say it is next to impossible to feel sorrow, even upon his death, when my thoughts rush to that joyous moment and still make me smile or even giggle...no i was not giggling over the news, but i am confident you get the point...even in telling my side of the story here, it is that pleasure that remains... now then, feeling the ease of being rested, i brought myself to one of my axes with an outlook on the together notes we term chords...given the seventh fret incident, but i found no issue and i suppose it will be a one-off thing i can torture myself with...sure, you are good but remember the time you forgot that g major on the seventh fret, hahaha... and so on...it'a a good thing guitar players don't need to de-classify their scale and chord dossier to themselves before playing...i had heard black bag was a decent film and made immediate plans to view it - i made soup and tried to not think about how excited kevin and kyra had been... later i understood how a married couple could, would or did find this exceptional...my thought was why are some australian actresses so darn good - bravo, cate - along with trying to recall where i had seen the male protagonist - ah yeah, the killer, 2023...dang that seems so long ago...i didn't put place pepper in the broth this time and either i was too hungry to miss it or maybe it is merely overkill given the oregano...i played guitar again - no mail order mystics in d or i smell smoke in g minor - simply fiddling through nothing in particular and trying to rid myself of the weird pressure i feel as if being pushed to 'perform' where it is not my intent...my goal is to keep up with the ritual... to which i have added a bit of chord work since i haven;t really tried a song since deep elem blues except for the exploration into all of me in b flat - early in the afternoon i felt flat and further flattened myself on one of the beds for nap although i had been flat on my back while watching the spy thriller on the sofa...i took that nap yet without any exact dream as if i were thinking or overthinking until getting up to find that it was yet very early in the day... maria posted a picture of a horse, then herself with the same horse and for a minute i felt the desire to create art again yet it has yet to become a catalyst - like my idea for marie anne;s picture... or even the film list which i did update without including any new photographs or animations...i hope one of these days i will feel that feeling once more and delve into it to have some sort of completion. i know that i will never have a good a time, in terms of what is now often called LOL, as i did with val's hilarious narration once upon a time...

april five

a saturday ah saturday aha saturday i suppose i should surrender to something or other yet there's nothing specific on my mind leading me this way or that...i've been playing a fair amount of guitar somehow going against my decision to work on a daily song...by that i merely mean repeating one in varying or different ways in order to feed that aspect of music...i think it was diamond joe, the other time i did that although obviously i did consider deep elem blues a bit but that was a recorded practice or exercise - i didn't continue with it as i did with the other...well, i suppose i need to find one appealing enough to fit into that definition...before going to bed last night i read that story about the nurse, she had been trying to have a child for a couple of years, hailey also a popular social media person they say, but according to reports died moments after giving birth to a son...i suppose i was more upset for the child than for her yet in any case a heartbreaking ending to life for her and an anguishing start to life for him... here i have yet to find the inspiration to fill in the picture side things and i have had a few dream scenes which i will make note of subsequently but i have not felt a connection to them instead i have felt them as if something or someone were trying to pull on the puppet strings of rapid eye movement - which is the reason for waiting before jotting them...i think i mentioned earlier the contradiction of sitting around without anyone in mind yet finding it crowded or a crowd when going to sleep...i have the weirdest time trying to answer why that would be - trying to decipher it - in the film becoming led zeppelin there is one scene with a revolving door next to the performing platform...i'd say the pre-dream moments have been like some sort of revolving door, faces - some seductive some returning yet not in the dreams themselves...i understand that at a certain time certain people might want a certain thing and possibly hide behind someone like me in order to gain whatever the vantage point might be...or so i reckon as i ponder the bizarre matter...in any case, the film was amazing for the very simple fact that it makes you realize how beautifully intense music might be...you might say yeah, but if you delve deeper then you find that these songs exists within memory and beyond it - with many or most other bands, there is often an invisible time stamp - perhaps when it was discovered or maybe the event wherein it became entagled or caught up in...so while logically i should relate some riffs with say carol miller i don't because these blues are too much to be boxed into a get the led out episode you see - in the film there is a juxtaposition of a carnival type concert tent and the nasa exploration of the lunar surface but listening to the song you get that it is before and after that time and place...like it had always been and always will be - now i will contradict my idea by saying that going to california is unlike all the others time-stamped for me since it is one of the first songs i learnt and let in my then lover to listen...when i did get to los angeles i never thought of her or them or even the song...still the idea feels true despite the possible anomaly - the movie ended and i wished it had gone on a few more hours until in through the out door or coda...i was thanking the genesis groove that brought jimmy page to the yardbirds and got led zeppelin going - i was feeling extra good over my kramer since eddie of that name had helped to put together the second album - now when i think of mothership i will recall how it was john paul jones' mother that insisted he go and try to join that band although he was rather a success already as a session player...in my own playing i need to stop trying to compensate for the sound by pressure at the pick strum or even fret hold when it is not amplified... otherwise i will continue to develop two differing styles without a need for it - i had dreams of my uncle without rhyme or reason which held nothing to note and possibly were more about my sister than myself given her current relationship and the fact that it is a known pitfall in her life which i suspect she has been trying to escape for a while now even once having her work laptop wind up in his town upon being left in a car going in that direction or so i heard anyway waking up she was on my mind and that is how i came to this conclusion - contrary to anything it seems, i again dreamt i was in three k, the kitchen there was a short narrow hall next to the front door and opposite the entrance closet - i was bent down trying to entice some rodent or roach out of the cabinet crawl space by pouring clorox as i stepped back instead a man with the face of a panther alike the cat people feline towered over me but suddenly disappeared as a woman emerged dressed in black as if julie newmar from the original series - i fell to my kness and asked what i could do in terms of saving myself from this conundrum she said you must be poor of power...maybe it was pour our power...i'm not sure i had been in the living room before as if it mirrored my now space instead of guitars - people lined up on of them i distinctly did not like - she was brunette and i didn't recognize her - i awoke thinking of the switch box that i believe held the label bryant park - brian might have been in the dream but that part was vague and i have not seen or heard from him in a considerable stretch...i got up a bit distracted and lingered or loitered with a lazy directionless feeling until i thought about naomi...she brought to mind the only other naomi i have ever met - well i'm not counting watts - who used to install herself in aunt's 36 house for coffee and conversation...one of the kids once put placed exlax in the brew making her exit nearly instantly - i admit it was kind of funny seeing someone limp in a hurry - i never asked or knew what exactly was the matter with her leg...i remember her house as pretty european for san francisco... having been there once on orders to help move something or other...well, i had some other dreams that didn't want to be recalled although i did awake thinking to write it down - drowsy and then dreaming again it was evening in the city, a street without cars, several people scattered but none of us moving...a woman rushed up to me with a knife and stabbed me under the right collar bone somehow missing ribs as it went in smooth...startled but not hurt i got up thinking about jennifer...the actress not the swede... i'm not familiar with pjharvey's pocket knife...hmm, maybe it was acdc jealousy... "Who your leader? Who your man? Who will help you fill your hand? Who's your friend and who's your foe? Who's your Judas? You don't know..." still, why was i standing there watching her cross the avenue and come at me as if a dream, well a dream within a dream...in other words if you see someone arrive at your nearness with a weapon do make an effort to not wait and see as it might be result like that... what is love? feeling accomplished that someone you admire was in your dream and left a wound. what a wonderful world...

april six

i found myself in the middle of the road yet again, this time in the dream i was seemingly heading out, i wore a suit and there was a woman walking with me on the left side, we stepped off the walkway as if to wait for a taxi cab, she wore a contrasting light dress that is to my dark suit, and i asked her how she felt to which she answered that felt the cold biting at her skin - the gown was sleeveless and i removed my blazer and put placed it across her shoulders - she smiled and i awoke...i'm pretty sure it was cathedral parkway yet i cannot be certain as the scene only focused on her and myself...earlier i had dreamt of aunt eva yet in such a vague manner that no details emerge from it and if i were to attempt a note it would be more about other memories than any dream itself...my thoughts were not crowded and my rest was fuller given ten milligrams of some sleep potion...however, in pre-dream thoughts i was confronted by the nearby sounds of a man sneezing, a dog barking, and a woman laughing as if not so much entertained but to be heard...i even got up and looked at westcreek guitars now somehow more interesting given their free international shipping policy...i kept my robe on when i went back to bed, back to sleep and awoke to a weird nocturnal emission without any memory of a wet dream..."All these years, I've been wanderin' around Wonderin' how come nobody told me All that I been lookin' for was somebody who looked like you..." i imagine it wasn't even during an erection as the wetness was well below the thigh...in the opposite direction of the erection as i awoke...talk about someone pulling your leg...sure i thought of lotta and her porn star martini...girls night out, felicitas had one too, the sight of her friend with a spiderweb shoulder tattoo was intense...i was not about staying awake and pondering or wondering the who what how or why - no point in crying over proverbial spilled milk - i knew part of the where, at least my part...but i also knew that i had not had a good night's sleep in a few days...i felt however easier in the fact that i didn't sense the crowding... sure julia and julia came to mind and india and jihoon too but it all felt contained...to some extent logical - i viewed lotta's new video, but i felt someone else's seduction - as if being pulled away somehow...i thought it can't be her but was not sure who else it might be - laura sophia went for her sunday run and i went to sleep where the dreams were easy yet nothing exact to report herein...unlike aunt's sequence, these were all very quick moments as if racing against each other in some rapid eye movement juxtaposition...once in a while, sitting around with a coffee and cigarette later they do return to mind but i don't think it will be the case today... i'm already well into further thoughts...i had meant to mention that i viewed manhattan, the film - not the town...truly like visiting an old friend and getting fired up at the thought that once upon a time you could literally usher in the fall with a yearly woody allen film...for many new yorkers it would have been a logical ritual...i have a distant memory of attending one film, maybe hannah and her sisters, and watching it from the steps since the seats of the place were packed...gee, i haven't actually been to a movie house since quantum of solace...that particular theater shut down so now there is no nearby movie house...except my cell phone as it were...speaking of which that is where i watched mickey seventeen - this one is not for the hardened types or the jaded ones, there is a poetry to it that requires your inner child's emotion to hear it...i suppose i am immature enough to have liked it although my grown up parts were once in a while doing the math on suspicion of how it was cast for broadcast...luckily its difficult for me to succumb to gossip even when it seems to start up in my own head...it's a good thing, since anytime self-doubt strikes a pose i eventually shrug it off... who me? ha! let me show self-doubt how much hubris i have in store...stop, there it is - i was spying in a dream as if perched upon a ventilation duct above two mean looking 'guards' the word implies guardian but from my experience they all mostly are do-nothing but stare at others from their uniforms and sentry sounds so formal...too formal, so i'm there in the dream not knowing why or what - then in a sudden switch i am by the cashiers who none of them have bags - it seems i had gone shopping, there was a woman with me - one i cannot recall - and she finds these plastic bags - two or three of them, they do not have the supermarket label instead doritos in big bold letters...i find that weird enough to have it stick in my mind just like the colorful residue of those chips make fingertips fuzzy...we pick up the shopping and leave...now this was the dream part i awoke from in confusion and should have been wroted before but it only came to mind now - lotta said she paid thirty five euros for her soiree to the store...people, and perhaps rightly so are concerned over the economy...myself i think twice about ordering restaurant food not that there are many places left to order from...a glimpse at older yellow pages gives you a good idea of how they have dwindled...so there is a sort of guilty feeling, in that i am well aware that many others do not have such options...yet hunger and not finding any thrill or satisfaction in the kitchen makes me go through the motions of placing an order more often than i like or should...my desire for more guitars might bring this to a natural conclusion since several orders would match the price of certain new axes... and yet i will most likely be going against my own logic in a while if only to escape the confines of the kitchen...insane to think that soul kitchen is one my favorite songs..."Well, the clock says it's time to close now. I guess I'd better go now..." ps, wadsworth bryant & bulldog panel, i missed mentioning that would have been the name of the electrical circuit i was thinking about two days ago.

april seven

i couldn't find my way into dreams like i wanted, that is early...i got up and played around with guitar town, peggy sue, and lost highway... lennon did it in c and i knew it was weird but i didn't really react to my own instict until later, for the ironic record, lost highway is in d but eventhough that would be more natural for my voice, it's in e that i feel it works... in any case all that to say i am fiddling around with songs as a whole even bringing vocals into play...i suppose i am excited over the coming haul...held a bizarre dream as i watched a man undress before me...there was a sense that i knew who it was although i didn't except that the person i thought it was then produced other scattered thoughts but i didnt feel any interest in it - as if someone was trying to mock or pass judgement...on him that is...as i was barely aware of the proceedings or their meaning except like i said i thought for a minute it knew who it might be - the phone rang a dozen times and i twirled in bed thinking surely someone had passed away to get me this much ringing and i opted to get up only to hear it was for the transaction that was sent friday and was to arrive soon...i'm supposed to go out shopping but i have no inclination for it... coffee, cigarettes, mining, collecting points, and social media glances...does anyone know if the tiktok messages are real...i mean, wouldn't you check out the link and drop a line via email...or has email gone out of style...it's only for spam notes, possibly... the schools were are closed in germany and dylan grant died...the bull rider, they called him...i thought of emilee of course and even keira then obviously gotta serve somebody bob...lotta had got up very early and gone to the gym for pilates...by the time i got around to her posting she was already wondering what to do with the rest of her day...for some reason i did not feel any emotion, as if i had not seen her somehow...suddenly i felt a very powerful emotion from mariia ariia...as if she was trying to hold me or hold on to me...she's the type of woman that makes all the fuss the beatnik poet poured out about holiness make sense - i suppose it;s a void of evil purity...to put it in simpler in terms, if i met a dog it would most likely not be friendly and if she met a dog it would most likely fall in love... in fact, i've seen it happen...a complete stranger of a canine entirely gone gaga over seeing her as if saying take me home with you...so i was happy for a minute that i at least knew about her and so on...she posted one possible definition of the bra you might imagine tom was talking about when singing about kathleen in filipino box spring hog and i guess that augmented my excitement - then i found she had gone in to get an ear piercing... it was all too much for me and i listened to vince lee and sophie lord doing drop down mama...sleepy john estes, i hadn't knowd it before...thought it was cool...i made a grilled cheese thing and had it with chips and a sprite - phoned mother still wondering how she came to her point of view in terms of children...unless they are your kids i don't want to deal with them...i put placed black market baby cover on the main page...thinking about the sharon tate dancing video i had edited for it... the something about seeing joan collins sent me down the release road for easter...ie, that should be out soon, maybe even in time for its namesake date...i hope to clean up the house and then reward myself with an onion and lettuce salad drenched in lime juice and olive oil but the clean up does make me hesitate, some cook some do not cook, some things cannot be altered... post-script, i skipped through something called dreamland, a title with margot robbie - she wasn't bad, but the film cannot be called good...if memory serves she played sharon tate in some other not so memorable or merely ironic film... anyway by this pojnt i got through the main points of my cleaning plan...i listened to johnny winters, serious business...the first three tracks; master mechanic - sound the bell - and murdering blues. i had prior to that heard him talking about his influences and playing style...when he mentioned the thumb-pick, i was reminded of the actual manner in which i awoke - my right side thumb had part of the nail fractured on the outer side and there was a splinter poking the inner side top part...one of those mysteries that would be impossible to explain -- i thought of the line, i have an awareness in my thumb, i put placed the still brand new tweezers to work...pulling out the stabbing thread and yet not knowing what it could be or how it went down - i even saved it to secure some knowledge but it is such a flimsly thing, like wire like wood...a sliver of a thing without an exact voice yet powerful enough to sting...as the songs wailed i wondered if the ghost of johnny winter was asking me to give the thumbpick another try... i liked it for the tight hold it held and it would be darn difficult to drop while playing but i'm not into the finger pluck or picking as it feels less controlled than the flatpick - still, when he spoke about the slide i did learn that his was a pipe - neither glass (he could never get a bottle neck to break right) nor brass would do for him and he liked the full range of it since it covered all six strings...i've made a few and even got a new one recently but i think i will try his idea down the line, in terms of the slide...hmm, seen zztop play it on the middle finger, a rare set up - that i did try already and it's pretty enjoyable to have the index and ring free not to mention the pinky...

april ten

there was nobody to run against josiah quincy the third, ie, ninety seven percent of the vote in boston, mass. a shoe holds - bless you - the foot, hopefully far from the mouth. weeze is a breathing noise, but also a quiet town in germany. the weezer wife was filmed while being shot by the los angeles police department and they said booked for murder... the battle of mocopulli saw the so-called patriots fail to overtake the royalist, south of here, in chile lands over the hills and far away... there's nobody to indict when a natural catastrophe gives folks a great big bear hug...i'd somehow not thought of the line by the pricking of my thumb something wicked this way comes - when i awoke from a whirlwind of dreams - champagney is where in france the saint-louis coal mine disaster killed twenty and injured sixteen...later i wondered who the hell goes to a night club on a monday night as the stray bits of news insisted on my listening - i used to go by there a lot but for the burger king not the dancing...the place looked sturdy and therefore i concluded it was a supernatural happening...but like the myanmar lands formerly known as burma, nobody cares too much...it's not like tariffs or celebrity scandals... death tolls of three thousand sixty and death tolls of two hundred twenty one are talked about without soul - hmm two hundred...yes some of these things mentioned went down two hundred years three months and eight days ago...just off howard mill road, the defoor apartments has its own website...yes, 1824defoor dot com - the red cross pickup truck was trying to manipulate traffic as i missed the fact that i had just passed italia fifteen, speaking of real estate, on my way back from a convoluted cigarette run - taking us to style; for women; waistlines were on the descent, as the "Empire" silhouette vanished... the dropping waistline gave way to wider skirts and sleeves... for the non-productive sex, the trousers were a narrow fit reaching the shoe top yet wide-cut cossacks pants became a variation which were pleated into a waistband fitted to the ankle all inspired the Czar visiting London a decade before...by the following year trousers had fully dethroned their predecessor, pantaloons...how many places are there and how many for a poet...i reckon the poet has only one place that is to say his muse...in the last couple of days i've been here and there, stockholm, athens, new york, los angeles, berlin, but somehow like the general i always find myself returning to my west point, the room with a milwalkee poster although i had no uniform three k...in pre-dream scenes i can only say i saw a woman in a naked blur as if taking a picture of herself, myself i have no dreams lately to report possibly for overthinking - although winona i thought had moved in to what was sister's room and later the storage space where i found yohimbe among other things yet it could have been rachel...then last night there again but in the main bedroom a woman with legs that seemed to go on and on impossibly so i tranced out in the gaze of her maze and awoke thinking of the t-rex song jewel...austrian airlines tells me they still have meal options...theatre am karntnertor, vienna is where the choral was first heard by the crowd...D minor Op. 125, you would know it as the ninth symphony...i imagine james pink, my brother, as an all powerful angel, allows me to go beyond the mere present and into before, so i dedicate this to him with the apology that it isn;t an ode to joy.
there will be nobody to race against when you have gone the distance.

april twelve
Carolina meet but me I did kiss her calf.
Jackson West methinks North Carolina.
I said lyrics so maybe it was a rally.
While more seriously to Sierra Levesque.
that came to mind even while John Wick,
Film series Johnny Depp durned town.
The shower was steaming in three k,
Aunt laly at the door asking for pills.

We dream, butt stained fruit of the loom.
Then wonder why or how, refrain jewel.
how in e minor. yes i said no, he knew
a wizard in france, i recall mother
cleaning father's...brian seltzer
learnt a new trick...i recall the
whiskey soaked lawyer bragging that
since being married he did nto have
to even touch his underwear a woman's
work is never done...
At the fireside, lotta stood i was sad and lonely,
often will the bosom swell with sadness
at remembrance of the faraway ole what does it signify
how our noble dior fell to its knees for jihoon
how I thought of deep purple's my woman from tokyo
I never wear boxers or shorts, you are my drug
replays telling me you like this one...
And uphold wanted more ID of the same ID
so I pulled out my guns and shot them down
thanks so much for pulling my bank and never
telling me about the trip to london or the
full extent of earning options...like the tariff
talk the irony is that many or most of the americans are in the china lands...
Indeed I was upheld before anyone repelled it on reddit.

True, it is a lost option of wreaths
Evermore but this is about my dreams,
they soothe me none yet not anguish only,
a cardboard box upon my head maybe it
Sleep today said d-dairy-oh - noseless,
In the alien narrow breath.
Dirges silent, I had seen my own memories
of affairs with lilia yet the ufo army
will have none of it since the name coincides
with a quack doctor's wife and since they don't
read any books, partial lobotomies suit them fine...
let him mingle with snot and worry.

Who needs any further fantasy or love when you
have vague dreams interrupted by the clatter...
how am i so happy still, because i am not them -
because i do not seek what you have to hide...
there was a road and i was going somewhere yet
it wasn't with anybody i knew or wanted to know.
Arguments over homosexuality, but they can't admit
it is hardly an option when society needs to hunt
for food to survive...beyond that everyone gay
will wipe out the human race unless test-tube
babies and clones might be perfected...nevermind
religion - still, why ask me? i could see some
sense in lesbianism but not so much well, imagine
yourself married to bukowski...but who knows perhaps
charlie might be your cup of tea...i'm all for population
control, but bombs are so much faster, see dresden.

So i'm standing there in the middle of the night
without desire in a dead breeze after a light rain,
asking myself am I meant to wait...did I let it go
too late...it's only eleven on the west coast.

The puzzle reveals no further pieces, no barefoot contessa
crying over the Italian army letter...i can see a hundred
and sixth street where Humphrey used to live, I don't know
where Ava made her home although I think with Howard Hughes
and Sinatra sometimes...in between west end avenue and
broadway...it would have been so different then...it must
be so different now even from what i knew...

I get up, the noise an irk and the erection wanting to pee -
everything gets quiet then i get coffee, the friskies scatter
some onto the floor as i pour, but skirt - the cat - is now
mostly only interested in milk...like an addict...i smoke
the cigarette and like U2 i still haven't found what I'm
looking for...

i try to write it all down here yet the jigsaw still jolts me -
like the stranger that twists my left leg as if knitting a mockery...
in repetition of charlie horse sea childhood swim into dry land
i suppose it's that some folks can't stand thinking you have
something they don't...not that i understand, but it was always
the case...lucky for me, I have my druid self and you, dear reader
not to mention eternity.


april fourteen

he killed three men with a pencil - i watched all four john wick films, there's only a hint of weather in them...not a mention of news...i think they are better than i thought, the memory i had before this was how much fun mother and i had watching the halle scenes...yesterday, (why she had to go i don't know, she wouldn't say) arrival which i heard great groovy things about but felt the build up was overkill and more than that i couldn't stop thinking about jeremy and the snow plow story...that is to say i liked the idea but i couldn't recommend it. of course i'd been distracted by lotta as if the madness of love or desire had to drown itself in contradictions...i carelessly dedicated hours to lies and truth and whatever is in between...not even playing my guitars so much - i came to the conclusion that my emotions might be overwhelming in that sense and that someone wanted to make me me dance through them without music as it were... i hardly dreamt then today as i got up still feeling utterly drowsy i instead went back to sleep as the noon hour neared and again until most of the afternoon had passed...it was within these moments that encountered dreams once more - which i will attempt to recount here, although the southern california tremor took me into other thoughts, sidetracked or not i am trying to settle this note here and now - my aunt's house was on the second floor of a two story house, the entrance (downstairs) also served as a garage and it was therein i was dreaming...i was put placing two little locks on perrier water bottles, very intent on doing so although this operation had never occured to me before dreaming, why was i locking this sparkling libation? next door there was some ceremony i could not see, like a tribute and i didn't want to go but there were two children under me and i pulled one up and put him through to the other side...a car arrived and one of my cousins with his family arrived but as they went up the stairs they seemed to multiply that is more and more people went up the flight of stairs...i had left the bottle and the lock and greeted some of them, by a light touch on the arm...some looked at me, a couple with disgust while others kept on their way...i did not recognize who they were but it was well over a dozen...as i stood there watching the scene clear, anya came down the stairs, she was leaving - i also touched her and she embraced me but in a distant fashion, fashion hmm, she was dressed in white and the clothing covered her figure making her seem heavier than i think she is or might be...as she reached the front gate i asked if she needed a cab, she said she didn't and i turned not to the sparkling water or upsatairs but to awake, i thought about the amiga lock, a contraption made in spain, i had put placed on that gate and how i lost it when the cousin removed it claiming he couldn't contact me...it had always made me think of taissa but being that it was an inanimate object i tried not to associate it with anyone except now somewhere deep in the subconscious it must still hold some meaning that i unintentionally bestowed upon it - of course it might have been that i was on the outskirts of moscow at that instant and it reminded me of that setting like the farm houses in samara remind me of grandmother's home in san francisco - (been away so long i hardly knew the place gee it's good to be back home) the dream took a turn north or west depending on what location it was... i was in the city, i always think new york, but this was more like one of those twons with a "main" street and upon that road i was intent on following what might have been a married couple - they went into a cafe or restaurant - i think now of the photograph wherein lennon is walking out of la fortuna his red shirt matching their awning, the uniformed driver holding the car door open, it's an italian place now only in memory thar vinny and alice ran - 69 west seventy first street...to think of it now, i realize that although i sauntered around that area a lot, i only once sensed the hint of any ghost which made me feel as if i were running instead of walking...when bram stoker tells you the dead travel fast, it is no exaggeration, i believe...i also believe these thoughts come up as the release of 'easter' looms near, song in which i sing yeah yeah yeah his ghost wroted this song for me - as it did feel that way for some reason or another restaurant hawaii tango tangled up in a hunk of burning love, i suppose the dream, if i may get back to my point, reflected my concern for lotta as part of me wanted to know perhaps too much or maybe felt jealous, i'm just a jealous guy...i order something and pretend to be thinking of something else...i can't actually see them or even know who they are...it's like i'm not there in a manner of speaking, the faces all empty, i am invisible and they are all strangers anyway...i suspect i left the detective mind set and then awoke...i felt well-rested and thought about lotta's new video wondering if it was in response to what i had told her...eye had toad here - frog saw swim...these creatures have cures that science has yet to decipher...i can't translate why i do not feel the inclination to create art in terms of graphics...i only know it would be incorrect to do so without feeling inspired...i don't think it will be today - my timex was three days behind the date - winding it up to speed i wondered and also saw how the scalpel picking could be played out as if one of the guitars were calling...i find i prefer guitar town to all of me, as a routine, but i'm not sure. perhaps this hesitation haze will only conclude after the other guitar arrives...or some dream that will turn the tide.

april fifteen

australia, no, it was austin town/
where the house scattered to earth's ground /

double spur loop by spicewood springs/
near old highway 183 where the headlights sing/

late into the evening i think to forget/
perth now i see we already went and met/

yellow cat upon empty fancy feast cans /
across the seas in a dream that never tans /

the pussy turning into horse from world to come/
i can feel lotta's bike seat pressing my perineum/

awake from the pick up dream to see her selpy haul/
with the selfish plan to once more dial the sleep call/

tesco thieves stealing eggs, mario vargas llosa scrambled /
obituary jed the fish, sierra showed pinky's hot dog red/

wink martindale said my vintage a. dotras cordoba needing hands/
now i wish it would have been sent well before this time stands/

back in the dream i rode upon hellbent motorcycle sidewalk /
into the building with unknown faces in elevator talk /

numerals and symbols carved in silver shine my floor not there/
what spacecraft was it, i pushed at the nearest where/
only waking was an option - cigarette coffee smoke swallow/
tuesday nearly gone i wroted an incantation for a king's how

burroughs said casual magic is more effective anyway /
a dice game ended in gunfire, johnny winter sang rain but it was sunny /

as a spaceman statue made its way to replace the olden kebab/
over in the stirling gardens i wait as the meat thaws out of frozen slab...


april seventeen

in the greenest of our dreams the crazed dog/
barked at lotta's sweater as i sauntered,/
over laundry detergent - from fire truck's log -/
the name bournigal in my mind entered./
i had returned here from new york bailey cheryl linn -/
thinking lola requested me!/
feeling alone in a room i can no longer win/
insane neighbor pretended to be!/


banners arisen from fists of fury,/
no dogs or chinese allowed,/
(i wonder - how much bruce lee /
made in japanese led,)/
zeppelins as wiretaps echoed shadows,/
and that kitchen noise,/
stirring all my sound trauma knows,/
plate fell as i lost my poise./


was i so visible or possessed, i pressed on with bronson, as 'chino'/
saw a horse being born to a new bed,/
guitar town again at kramer's glow,/
dreams were writing a song by bill gates/
(porphyrogene?)/
i did not ask if he still masturbates,/
campus shooting in florida went to scene./


And a pack of freezing point newport's was ending/
by the time i awoke marlboroless,/
portman said she heard the ghost bending,/
i danceed to my own cover travelin' man, yes,/
the only time i got page's car style turn/
it is yet a thrill,/
like poe's structure you see here burn,/
thursday after that sudden pain switch kill/


but the evil inside disrobes for our tomorrow/
deliveries arrive and i see it is today./
(oh, let us mourn! for no more dream row/
never did i mask even upon desolation's pay!)/
while the horny men insist on date rape orgies/
where the sex doll women shrug it off/
as the past, as part of the price bent knees/
porch plants asking for rain cough./


i hope david lynch is with rod serling,/
in an inland empire twilight zone/
i wish i were in los angeles or beijing/
emperors eat dog and the dish is yet a deep one/
yes here the silence is also ghastly,/
gabrielle linder prints for "palestine"/
idf soldiers tell a sucide cry/
but i only bawl at the cinematic line.


april twenty two

now then allen was delighted by money's velocity and
i watched time crawl in a three day mystery trip
reference ginsberg not woody
well not consciously then working man
or the peril of visiting a night club
after hours, it is still yesterday here
midnight sweden -
excuse me as i walk into a dream...
export world what is space to astronaut;
actually i was on the floor, it's what
the spaniards call the english flat: piso
collusion insurance property maybe some
mishap in oklahoma trembled in tornado
who are they? right there in the nearness?
some woman, was it her own or a stolen child...
infancy without manners pressed up against eye
was it olivier that said all the actor is saying
is look at me look at me look me look at me look at me
of course later i thought of the film look away
how many scripts have i memorized by moonlighting...
of course i thought of my excursion to washington
reference dc not seattle
where i never figured out the name of the ugly kid
drooling like an old italian man over spaghetti
she said it with such an accent that it haunted me
alike the woman on the west side telling me she
was odetta where my ears perked up baffled
as if the thread of logic vanished like virginity
on prom night, my mind translated it as 'ol dead...
obviously the conversation went no further
why would someone say their name is ol dead...well,
it was years before i understood there was such an
odetta name but in the poem the national debt
increased and in the dream there was a drag race
possibly the same woman driving while eating kentucky
fried chicken
needless to say i was freaked out
i waited to write it thinking it would sound like
'man who bit orange county police officer dies
in custody after arrest'...
but finally put pen to paper given the nature of my profession
although i worry that certain forces and ford motor
conspired or are conspiring against focus
yes, i know, you too feel out of focus, blurred by distractions
these lines will not help and what is coming might make it worse
ahem, across the proverbial pond they are building
outdoor classrooms, where exactly you may ask?
cockermouth.
the same place where all saints teachers hailed an error
as the right answer
benedict sixteen now has an actual coworker in heaven
francis was eighty eight and had met the vice president
it brought to mind how the queen perished after meeting liz truss
that was two days, this was one day, pretty soon we will have it
down to hours perhaps minutes...obviously the goal
is instant handshake death when certain public figures greet
odd makers in vegas are already raising the stakes
chino said me and the black just never got along...
which brings me to zelda and her block out of nowhere
as if thought needed another puzzle.
yet i am happy to report my instinct in sierra saw itself
justified...live yesterday i caught her rocking
that's levesque alike lubeck...
towns i want to visit, dishes i don't want to wash
cleaning up staple met thumb and the lyric i gifted
her came to mind like why give us words away...
grace wore a tee that said satan is a lady,
there sure was paranormal activity and alien roach ship hatched in the dresser i gave to skirt as
a meal table - damn it man, i'm an artist
not an exterminator!
dozens so i lost count, thirtyish, thirtysomething!
'i was lucky in the order, but i've always been lucky
when it comes to killin...'
she was playing outside a tattoo shop that night
i could only wonder why she wasn't opening for acdc instead
maybe it was the crossing hand at her belly...
you see taylor wish wanted to be a negress and
refused my argentina request once upon a time...
the next day...'when it was all over i walked up.
we didn't find one of them, not one stinkin' dink body.'
three dollars regular, four dollars diesel
ian hunter playing central park n west
where am i going with this, nowhere
merely filling up the note tank, no
i didn't expect to speed into prose-poem lands
sure sure i should be more concerned with money
a deal cable - damn it man, i'm a career
not a corner!
hell, maybe we are all cornered...
myself i postulate the end of the world was 1945
and in my dream i am again in berlin
usually it was wondering what to do as the bombs
shook the house...
this time, i am with my estranged ming blanket
but it's an avenue and the woman with me is
hiding me under it,
i suppose i was trying to escape the entire war
and before i was covered i saw the sight i won't
be able to forget; because it was in real life
technicolor, because i could hear the squadron
boots striking each step in a fierce forward motion
and it made my heart shake
because the tan uniforms adorned with swastikas
did not give army but divinity instead
because even after i could no longer see them,
the image of the fuhrer remained within imagination
(he also in that sturmabteilung brownshirt style)
SA marschiert, Achtung! Die strade frei!
i find their song, it's a video and the match
makes me take a deep breath and pause
knowing now none of us were able to circumvent
the second world war of allies and axis.
axis, a word from the fourteenth century
indicating a straight line
and so ginsberg went back to bed until the landlord
won the eviction suit in the courts.