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.