> "Marlene Dietrich is a professional – a professional actress, a professional dress designer, a professional cameraman." The other day, well all the days outside of today are the other...Hmm, not so specifically; two or three days ago. I got up to a little hot coffee spill that left my index finger buzzing and that incident was followed by a mosquito biting the same hand...the edge of the palm to be precise. My reaction - one which i do not repent - was to return myself to bed and not face the rest of it. I've just heard Bond say men are coming here to kill us - a fast cut sequence collage from the films flashed by then he asked does it look like i care... paraphrase, i suppose. Exactly three days ago I posted the first draft of a screenplay I wroted four days ago, the working title is 'life in war'... inkrealm.info/88 it concerns lina heydrich and my attempt to reiterate the facts involving her husband;s reaction to an ambush... there were a couple of Ai or should that now be Si engines involved but it was more work than necessary in establishing a viewpoint more neutral or sympathetic because of them...I believe I met my sidequest goal and within that belief I encountered Ben Affleck insisting on something regarding technology which made me think, so the press pushes an anti-intelligence posture while he quietly built an automation-factory and then sold it to netflix for six hundred million dollars... how did the model afford to live in Manhattan, she said she sold her eggs...in the extra sleep time i often find myself dreaming of new york city...something too large to fit into the trash compactor - what am i doing there? more hallway than apartment - &sons - the mention of dolly sat weird with me -archive article; SCIENTIST REPORTS FIRST CLONING EVER OF ADULT MAMMAL the times byline said gina kolata - the notion of human cloning seemed - albeit plausible it's too ironic like knightfall or the worst film of the year which was given stiff competition by virginia woolf's night & day... yes none of them exactly good although by logic &sons had a few moments worth watching...i am being hounded, chased, in a dream i feel like tarzan swinging from trees yet it is in the city and with a pounding heart finally safe at home there is someone at the door - we don;t deny the vast universe must have by consequence or extension some sort of full bodied species or even mirrors which we will surely say look nothing like us...but we don't expect to see them in dreams...there was a knife in my right hand and after all the run around i could only imagine here it is the thing that was chasing me into a nervous anxiety - tall and lizard skinned a little green a little brown or perhaps even a tanned olive...what the hell can one say - all i knew was i did not want to be chased any more and plunged the blade into its middle - it looked at me as if i were stupid or insane - the eyes told me in silent talk - that it was not a weapon in my hand against the likes of it - the bloodless gash sealed instantly - we stood there staring at each other but my heart was still racing and before anything else i awoke...the problem with the word woke is that everybody, woke or not, awakes...why not keep it to liberal and conservative...more than aliens or syntax what i want to write about is a helmet - maybe it's too many shows all at once, ahs, slow horses, but really mobland - the near perfect mobland! i could see the helmet miss a mile away...perhaps it is the reaction they require or want - the asian woman in my dream is too sensual and mysterious - it's happened twice - once only her - so close i thought it was real as after words i sensed actual memories of her of us i have never lived - doctor i assure you i was born - knock knock who's there - the dream that tells you about chronology - like speech, like a recap, like an extensive summary - the dream is telling me all about the dream i dreamt the night before - of course i get up and anti-dream fanatics take me drifting far away from the details - about the dream you forgot to remember - what was it - i don;t know - the gospel according to matthew mcconaughey; i apologize for my lack of enthusiasm about your work in the past - i guess in the end you are cool...two hundred pages into blood canticle - i notice anne rice and me like a lot of the same words - it makes me feel like a success - in the second dream the asian woman has brought a friend, no i had no idea say or see had gone into wedlock with jack, and all three of us are smoking from a glass pipe - the press goes into action - he's dreaming in the orient, free-basing! what happened to our protocol? - run the story; Southern California woman accused of spying for China arrested by FBI agents at LAX... the paranoid man is the one in possession of all the facts - why can't you concentrate on the delicious distractions we have all set up for you - but really what i'm thinking about is did xchloe smartx draw all over eva mills' body - i get to fail algebra all over again - so no more hot chinese women in my dreams - i am in high school but highly aware that i am playing a part, she knows it too and tells me they are going to find out - at which point i leave the dream and the bed to make certain of secrets...where the fuck is the on off switch for private settings...keep new england white, the measles are done with bangladesh and now partying in long island? that scene always felt so true, when michael is confronted by kathleen;s bark - a rose by any other name - i am supposed to be making a list for supermarket items, a restock but do we ever really get what we want...i wonder, i hesitate, i procrastinate, i write this note instead yes the dream note announcing the anniversary of dietrich;s death which happens to me my own grandmother's date - as the only family member that ever actually wroted letters, maybe it is because of her that i am writer well maybe i am no longer a writer - i sense the puppet pull, the big scenario fraud insisting you step right into a tv show and voila that is now your life...so it is more fight than freedom...whatever, i decline, i push further into now. damn the so called torpedoes or in this case aliens and or clones...i know exactly where i am in the dream, the avenue street as familiar as anything i know - it is two women now and i very much want to be with one of them - sauntering reveals not only the walkway but also a park that seems immense and at the old apartment with blood thirsty ghosts and then revolving as if stepping through it all alone - near a desperate sensation - does it mean i love her - does it mean that none of us can truly find love - there is nothing and nobody there - walking until the end wherein it is suddenly here yet not exactly no, some slum - a ghetto of sorts - dirt on faces and hands as if poverty has been tattooed where the tarot card only pulls the death card...i hear the talk but it's nothing i understand - i don't sense danger yet when i rise it is all starting to stray, to slip away and so peril's hazard holds as if a set pattern that needs to be followed or else deleted yet i didn;t ever think of myself as being that much of a rebel to have to struggle through such strange situations and the overthinking that gets linked to them. (kolata is a dance involving sticks) post script, concerned that my all night schedule was tripping up a girl across the ocean i surrendered to sleep - i had had a fair meal and the miami sunset cigarettes tasted of weed - all of which made sleep arrive without much effort - although i did lament skipping out on guitar session - in that dream - i found myself first surprised - as if someone was in my kitchen and they were telling me what a third party had done - i was becoming upset - someone had put placed a srot of brace glove on one of skirts paws - i pulled it off seeing the cat but also seeing a human wrist and hand - i storm upward and sling away slippers i happen to find upon the backstairs - then an action was taken and i hear someone say they can't believe i did that - whatever it was must have been beyond their expectations - i don;t exactly know the people in the dream as i have not actually met anyone upstairs in the sense that you meet people and exchange names and greetings...the scene shifts and i am back in the apartment - like the decoration kids in the hall skit, yes it look the same but now there is demon - nothing less than the swede von sydow i suppose in his exorcist costume is priesting silently as if splashing holy water - i must have devolved to a child self and exlaimed oh god or i must have found either faith or the fear of faith not being sufficient to battle an invisible evil spirit and said oh god - the mind reels back to a tough guys don't dance scene, oh man oh god...i got up then perhaps upon hearing my own voice and i pondered for a few seconds on how profound a sound or noise might be...there had been vague screaming in the distance as i was about to eat - as i was about to view a film that should have been a documentary - the dog bites murder... which takes more patience than i had stored after the first hour which found me skipping through until the bookend hanging. in the middle of the night i finally got to guitar ritual and going past the halfway point of blood canticle...she took some hits for that one, but i don't see how else she could have wroted it. oh yeah, in the scene, the priest is overtaken, taken over by the demon and starts to eat the crucifix he had been holding. the world is a lesser place without max von sydow - even after bergman; "It's been ages since I sat in front to the TV. Just changing channels to find something. You see the whole culture. Nazis, deodorant salesmen, wrestlers, beauty contests, a talk show. Can you imagine the level of a mind that watches wrestling, huh? But the worst are the fundamentalist preachers. Third grade con men telling the poor suckers that watch them that they speak with Jesus, and to please send in money. Money, money, money! If Jesus came back and saw what's going on in his name, he'd never stop throwing up." i read jim bakker died but i can't place him in any memory...not like jimmy swaggart, man woman or teen was that already over a year ago! ah wait yes, the eyes of tammy faye...well indeed a movie but no less a memory.
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