Saturday, November 30, 2002

Milkshakes?

hmmm... just got back from NC.

picking up my thought...

I've been really getting into the idea of venting dreams, positive/negative emotions et al on this here blog. It's like therapy and only costs $1/month ;)... so I've not really been dwelling on negative things.... but the emotions hit me, and I want to best express them at the time.... If no one's around to vent to, then into the blog bin it goes......


OK, and here's the deal.... Still want that Milkshake? How bout a cocktail? For those wishing to exploit my imagined Karmic Debt, I'll be having a Social Creme d'icec avec des Cocktails @ Swanky B. Studio this Tuesday from 4:30-7:30PM. Stop on by.

Please RSVP in what ever manner you desire.


S

Friday, November 29, 2002

Live from Ashville NC!

we walked into a lunch place today, and the guy behind the counter claims to remember me.

The funny thing is that while I've only been to Ashville once, it's entirely possible that we at lunch at this same place. And to add to the confusion/clairty, I was last here in 1996, during the atlanta olympics, and it was just a month or so after the last time I had chopped off all my hair.

Betsy's family is great, and we're having a good time. Though I've found myself being on the verge of, and crossing into breaking into tears for several days now.

moses, I miss her.

a friend just asked me the other day if I'm doing OK... their concern based on what I've been writing in this here journal.... Actually, I'm feeling really on top of things these days.......gotta go, the cars are loading up.... I'll finish this on sunday.


hope y'all had a good holiday!


S

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

the trigger of Television commercials bringing out the humble surealist

In last night's dream, I was on the way to Bobby Houstons house. crossing the street, I realized that at the cafe I was going to that night, I would have to write my order down on a pair of clean underpants.

I wonder what the Talmud has to say about that.



Sunday, November 24, 2002

At what price, peace.

It's a hard beauty when your dreams are more real than days.

Last night I had to pre-live the duty of scattering my father's ashes. This could be a thing of romanticized poetic anguish and grey beauty.

Betsy's funeral had that element. It was windy and grey and stunningly beautiful, and it all moved it slow motion; Annie out in the surf with the ashes being claimed by the wind in broad arcs; The wind and sea birds filling in for the gothic underscore. I would hope that we did her proud (she did have so many victorian-gothic day dreams;)

... back to last night-What made it really hard was when I was about to set about my duty, you showed up and offered to be by my side the whole time. I wanted this very much, but as I've discussed just last night, in the waking , you are devoid of the loyal warmth you offer in dreamtime.

and yet, I accept your offer, likely submerging myself into another week of confusion.

A pale irony,
dreams - warmth, comfort , beauty
manifest cold. real.

what piece lust?

I've been thinking about waking dreams, and the power to conjure firm realities from desire.

I've been thinking about many of the people in my life, and why - and what - and why not, I've loved them.

I've been thinking about bringing the best pieces of all of you back into my current, drafting some emotional voodoo and conjuring my new love.

I've been thinking about what pieces of you I still love, you are still present in my dreams.

and then I realize that there is nothing good/healthy or even loved within you. You are a poisoned well.

owning the strength that my true love will have no piece like you brings a moment of solace.

Wild Gift

After seeing 2 movies @ Naked Eye tonight, I was probably going to head home and read, but then I ran into Willis, and ended up getting walked into the X gig at the Showbox.


Let me tell you.....

Matchbox 20 and all your clones, you can suck my cock. You've never gotten it, and you never will.
Fred Durst, you are a pansy ass poser. You probably like your father just fine. We all know about the Snoopy tat on your ass.
White Stripes?.. naugh augh. Get in line.

seeing X again was a risk. I was expecting them to be yet another group of tired 80's punk 'legends'. I was wrong.

I was wrong.

being at this show tonight was as if someone handed me a gilded box with a chunk on my childhood inside and lit on fire.

The audience pushed and the band pushed back harder.

This all makes me smile.

The Girl with Infinity Behind her brings yet another.