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.