Month: August 2011

dream Aug 11 , 7:11

i woke up at 6
and was un satisfied
I had to pee
felt cold
unimpressed with any dream fragments
I got out of bed

of course
intending to sleep again often gets me nowhere
I turned around and around and eventually found some sleep again
and dreams of a mostly literary sort:

I was traveling
I think for school
maybe it was a small town in Oregon
it was mostly derelict
the sun was bright
cement and brick
I was walking past the deserted store fronts
on the empty streets
I came to a section not meant for cars
stepped over the curb onto green pavement
narrow alleyways
walking through that still yielded little attraction
perhaps there was a voice in my ear
I walked through and out
ramshackle huts
where the mechanics lived
everything in burnt oranges in yellows now
dry grasses, fields
I clambered up the hill & cliff onto the ridge
where there was a clear view of Mt Hood
or was that Shasta?
below the residents were mucking about in what was left of their lives
I tried to respect them by not looking at them
and did not take pictures
I felt uncomfortable
but looked at the mountain again
almost lavender
it looked like bone

dream aug 10 8am
a traveling dream
or supposed to be
turned into a horror show

the airport was huge
a horrible mall
a bit like a school campus
I was trying to fly home to NYC
decided I’d go through Indiana first
but it was twice as expensive for just the one leg, put me off

there were people there we all knew
old friends
dear friends
we were all returning
home

we weren’t talking about mercury retrograde
but something like that
all the flights were cancelled or changed
we had so much time to wait
but that wasn’t the trouble
of the four of us
Jorge, Daniel, myself and Eli (I think.. not sure, he was supposed to be an intimate friend but he was played by the actor Bobby Carnavale… and we were all meant to be about ten or more years younger… though we flickered into our current ages occasionally)

the real trouble was
we’d been
um
in a jungle
and trying to escape a terrible beast
like the Predator
but like the Thing
it had slipped inside of Eli/Bobby’s body
and you two didn’t know
I found out
but never had time alone to tell you
oh, some times Arun (once was Zygoat) was with us
we had some magic
but this beast was incredibly dangerous
it was trying to play it cool
hiding out in our friend’s body so it could get back to NYC and decimate the city
I had found a blackberry
which I may have converted into a bomb I was going to try and plant on the creature
but the timing was difficult
more problematic was you two didn’t know he had been posessed and I couldn’t seem to get you alone to tell you
most of the dream was traversing through the maze of the airport/mall/campus
in and out of doors, alleyways, bathrooms

it had just occurred to me to send you text messages
hoping you’d get them discretely and get away from him

but just at that point I felt cold and tense and woke up
and though i was awake earlier than i wished to be
I wanted out of that dream
so rolled over to grab the phone…

.
:.:

.flickr-photo { }.flickr-yourcomment { }

I was telling Koos
I haven’t been taking many photos of myself lately
and when I do
I’m not much interested in how I look right now
so the images just stay on my phone
but I printed this one for him yesterday
after taking it and photoshopping it on my phone in 3C the night before
returning to my expressionistic form of my inner Egon Schiele
bent, twisting
not to say anything
just ill-at-ease on this plane

.
:.:

dream Aug 9, 6:38

it faded in a winter forest
following a woman through the dawning darkness across a marshy plain
my man separating from me because he didn’t want to walk so long
certainly not to follow her
he’d expected we would be laying in a hammock naked by now
but she was famous and brilliant and magical
and by the time I was close to her
my would-be lover was long gone and the morning was pale and bright

the foals were rolling around in the grass, nipping at eachother
yes, that’s where I lost him
at that
they got up
followed she and I into the wood
though we left them to climb a tree
silently
without expectation
at this point she became a young man with blond hair (leaving apart her jewish mystic female form)
maybe he was Owen Pallet
he was reaching for a bird
or monkey
i was frightened
nice clothes, wrong shoes
finding my own way up the tree
dead branches
uncertain it would hold me
uncertain why I was here
following him
yes, he was following a famous russian actor, or writer…
the birch
but we were on a huge barky tree of another sort
and in my impatient stasis I pulled myself up and noticed… stairs
I followed them up with my eyes across:
a long old wooden walkway through the tree tops
from where I was I could pull myself onto them
Owen was ten feet away in front of me, below the upper planks
he made a movement that showed me how flimsy the stability was
the wood looked dry and rotten, old and unmaintained
a dead-eras creation
nails missing on one side
sagging, easy to picture it swinging down into the forest below
I was imagining how to walk it without making the whole structure collapse and falling thirty feet (sixty feet(one hundred feet)) to the floor
following it with my eyes:
I knew it lead into the old compound
which was really where I needed to go
not following him/her around like this or placating my older suitor
but I hesitated too long there

and fell out of the dream
breaking into morning
uncomfortable and cold in my bed
anxious for the day I have in front of me
shouldn’t I be waking up now? maybe it’s an hour early…
if I just lay here like this
I will lose the thread into the dream entirely
my eyes weren’t functioning yet
but I clawed my way back into the imagery through committing to remembered images

these dreams aren’t asking to be remembered
I have to hunt them down

(song appears in my head: “when we go dancing/ underneath the city in the catacombs…” / “you were a little girl / with starry eyes… / now you’re a sad young man and know one knows why…”)(ah, “Old Orchard Beach” by Magnetic Fields)

it was about the women starting the theater company
Olympia Dukakis has changed sex in her role (once M Madrigal)
Gabriel standing there saying he did not believe in finding metaphorical meaning in dreams: the meaning is all implicit
perhaps it was him

the house now remembers to me as my parents house, night, moonlight
us walking out the front door
but the distances are larger
the horses rolling on the ground by tge pond, yet still a ways from the willow trees
yes, there’s the forest there
interstitial
the structure gone: the old school (which? the one where we used to learn Everything. those teachers are all gone now… reincarnated into people happily confused and forgotten, knowing nothing of the origins and controls of this realm…)
nothing but in dreams

where was I?

.
:.:

one of my friends, who lived in NYC in the 80’s and 90’s, told me that part of loving NYC is about accepting that it’s always changing
constantly
old buildings being torn down
new ones put up
Love it or Leave it: it’s the way it is.
it’s OK to be at peace with that
but a bit more difficult when it’s happening to specifically beautiful places

(oh, if i ever could have seen the old Penn Station..)

a good friend of mine lives in the Chelsea Hotel
and it’s like a middle-eastern land-grab here

all of a sudden
SILENT halls
and strange security goons in the lobby
art disappearing
and when i read shit on the internet about it
they say they’re getting a designer who works for Holiday Inn to come in and re-vamp the rooms
REALLY?
it was just bought by some Moroccan Jewish real estate mogul
he bought the Sear’s Tower! and a million other places
and i don’t really get Real Estate
but i understand collectors
and i know how people are when they want to posses shiny bobbles
and that’s what keeps the world turning
really
desire…
and change

but this place is so beautiful
in its ramshackle way
i’ve been hanging out in the pent-house and roof for the last few years
and it’s transformed my relationship with Chelsea 
(which formerly i could not stand to be in)

i had a client in one of the rooms once
i don’t remember which
but i’ve been in a slew of rooms because of my friend who lives here
and they are all different
so many characters
and of course… stories

it’s horrifying to think of it all being made commercially acceptable 
by some collector money grubbing douche who hires some fuckwit famous for Holiday Inn
Really?

well
that’s just the way the world turns
but it feels kinda horrible to be in 
and know a way of life is ending

ah… 
on to the next…