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...