Overheard No. 6

Said the man to his very young daughter...

"I would like a new mommy too, but unfortunatly I think we have to keep the one we got."


Woah. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Really though, I understand men or women wanting out of their relationships, but when the kid is asking for a new mommy.... I mean she was all of 4 or 5.... It was ridiculously funny at the moment, how absurd the conversation between parent and child about the other parent,... But looking back on it... Damn.

Overheard No. 5

"So you're saying I have a girl name? Thank a lot mom! Now I'm a woman ??"

Seriously. What the F is up with mom? I wonder if he wears her clothes when she's not around...

It's like.... an answer

Over one hundred years ago, I posted a blog named "It's like....." and it was, although it seems like I get stuck in this style, a bit juvenile. It was all transcendant, about a deserty place and flowers and full of questions about would a flower grow in the desert and transform the desert into a lush grove, or would the lifeless ground swallow the life of the flower, leaving it grey and shattered....

Well, really, you should just leave the desert and move to more fertile ground. It's so obvious to me now.

Nighttime is scary, I guess....

Well, this one surprised me. Last night I had a nightmare. I real live childhood-like nightmare, complete with a monster. I know what you're thinking... "Oh FFS! here he goes again with some long winded explanation of a bizarre dream that nobody is going to understand, because nobody EVER understands somebody else's dreams." Yeah that's pretty much the case except this one will be slightly shorter than the last one.

Basically I'm on the edge of a wood at night. There seems to be some sort of dwellings around, they are typically small, and a little run down. The only people that I can see are family members. There were a few others but their faces I could not make out. So there I am, I don't know what I was doing, but it matters little since an uncle of mine came running like mad out of the woods followed immediately by the monster. So I did what any self respecting family member would do. I ran away. I ran into the dwelling behind me and grabbed a shotgun. I think the monster gored that uncle, not really sure. Something happened there, but he was still alive. The monster was looking for the rest of us, but apparently didn't understand the idea of a house and that people go inside houses and they might be found inside a house, because he sort of looked around and ran back into the woods. Really quick here I'll explain what the monster looked like. He was about 8 feet tall and looked like a wolf that had gone insane, and walked upright like a man, but still had wolf legs. Very creepy although you have no sense of it, because you weren't there. At any rate, we came out of the small houses (the one I was in was basically a 5 by 5 foot room, very strange) and acted cautious. The other person that was there grabbed up my injured uncle, put him in a wheel barrow and headed into the forest after the monster. I stayed behind at first but figured I would follow him in a second... I was the one with the gun after all, but this monster seemed like he was going to be tough to gun down, even with a 12 gauge... and then I woke up.

It was three in the morning and I sat there for a minute, uncomfortable. I live alone and it was the first time in my adult life I ever felt like I wanted to hide under my sheets. After a few seconds that struck me as silly and I fell back asleep. Plus I had that thing where it feels like your eyelids are sticking shut....

Spired

What happens when the thing you don't believe in, draws you in, like you are a moth to the flame (which is a horribly overused metaphor), and you can't resist, for the mere fact that you are alive and blood still pumps in your veins, like a robot at command you march into danger, into a certain world of destruction, and this is how you are programmed, and you come under fire, but you aren't a robot, you are flesh mind body soul fear anger desire and yet you push and stumble and stagger and stand again ready or not for the next blow and here it comes and to your knees you go but you are still alive and the blood pumps and muscles pull and hoist you up and the crushing blow comes and you show teeth, not in anger, but defiance, not pride, but courage, and you grip to hold on and grasp at a final straw of dignity that what you are is right... even though you will be cut down you will go with your fist raised and your eyes to the sky.

It's because you do believe in it. You may never recieve it. But you believe in it. You fight for it. You are a guardian of it. You keep it alive.

Without you, it would die.

It's a sacrifice, isn't it? I can really find no other explanation...

It's mirror mirror time.

I woke up straight out of this dream early this morning. It was really creepy, but kind of sweet also. You can decide for yourself, my memory of it is fairly vivid and I wrote it down fast so I am able to prod the 'ol noodle for recall.

First, the dream is a cartoon. At least it starts that way. A Dr. Seuss cartoon to be specific. If you aren't that familiar with Dr. Seuss, I suggest you check out some of his work, this will help with visualization. And I assume you are familiar with The Simpsons, there's a touch of that as well....

The dream starts as multi colored Seussian birds fly across the sky. Everything about the dream seems peaceful enough, the birds smile and have big eyes with eyelashes. They actually look a bit like fish, in that their tails are vertical instead of flat like real birds. At some point they cross behind a tree and this tree has one branch. From my point of view the school of birds is framed in the area above the branch and to one side of the tree trunk. At this point the birds, all of them, say to me, not with their mouths, but they think this directly into my head, "It's mirror mirror time". All of their voices at once sound like some sort of discordant harmony, like too many notes too close in pitch to each other, played on a piano at the same time. The voices were rather effeminate and nonthreatening, at least in tone, but it was unsettling somehow. At the time they say this, a duplicate school of fishbirds fly in under the branch, in the opposite direction, and upside down. Both schools, while continuing to beat their flippers/wings actually hover in place now, on one side of the trunk, each respectively above and below the branch.

Now, at this point, I become aware of some kind of singing below. I can't make out the words, but the music sounds like it's some kind of parade. I look down toward to the ground. I can see where the tree and the ground meet, just behind a sidewalk. There is a house off to the side, I can't see all of it. And the street where this parade may be happening is below me, although I can't see much of it, and I don't really see any parade. At first there are people on the sidewalk, singing in tune with the parade, and on top of their singing I begin to hear the birds, also singing. The two songs are very similar yet the words are different, and I realize the birds are singing not only directly into my head with their minds, but also into the minds of all the people on the sidewalk. I can see on the people's faces the slightest hint of change, where they go from mindlessly following along in unison with the parade, to the point where the singing of the birds in their minds begins to influence them.

It seems like it's here that I realize that I can no longer see the people. They have vanished at some time, and as dreams are wont to do, it didn't use any logic for the change. They were there, then gone, and of course you silly, that how things work here in dreamland. I never saw the birds again, but I sensed their presence just off to my left. And they, with someone's hands, maybe mine as they were in front of me in the dream, started laying down napkins on the sidewalk. Their scale relative to the sidewalk was huge, I'd guess 5x5 feet square, and they were the kind you have for BBQ's, and also came in a variety of colors.

These napkins are laid out on the sidewalk and then opened up by these huge hands, as the singing continues. And as the singing of the people, and of the birds begins converge in unison, I am finally able to make out some of the words. They are saying "We don't know what we sing is hurting us" and "It's time to repair the sickness and the hurt". What I got from this, and it's impossible to convey second hand, because that's just how dreams are, is that, somehow, what the people were singing, the words they were saying and planting in their own minds, and in each other's collectively was like planting a seed and then watering and nurturing it. Of course I couldn't make out what they were singing originally, so I can't say for sure just how bad these words were. It was a sort of innocuous self perpetuating self destruction. Something that started so small and so simple, as to go unnoticed, until it's dark and evil vines had rooted themselves so deeply and completely within the people, that they didn't even notice. They didn't even wake up one day and say "Hey! what the hell is that?" No, it was as if they were zombies already, happy and content in their lives without knowing they were already enslaved, in the minds, and in their souls. An empty body carrying a parasitic, unseen host that fed directly on their souls.

I am reminded here about how Steven King often presents the evils and related characters in his books as something beloved and endearing, something a child could love, something that should care and ease your worries and pains. And it lulls you.... and also of Lovecraft, were perhaps a Shoggoth may be sucking and feasting on the happiness from your catatonic mind for a thousand years....

And so it seemed to me that these birds, in a strange way were massaging the minds of these people.

At any rate, the napkins were being laid out, and opened at each new line of the song/chant. The napkins represented the words, but were in fact blank like an ordinary napkin. As the music/chant/words progressed, they became more disturbing. Each successive napkin opened, at first revealing nothing but the napkin itself, then one by one they began to open on progressively more grotesque things, such as pus filled meat and diseased flesh.

Of course, throughout the course of the dream, at every step here, I had an emotional reaction. I could feel the birds in my mind just as the people on the ground did. It wasn't uncomfortable in that it hurt, but it was in a way like, if you were 40 years old, and had never in your life ridden a bicycle and then one day got on one and rode around all day long, you have used parts of your body, muscles and tendons and the like, that you didn't even know existed. You have become aware of more of yourself, not a good or bad thing, but you have exercised and exhausted yourself and these new parts.

I took the diseased meats to represent the injured and shunted minds and souls of the people, and with the progression of the bird's song this dis-ease in their souls was slowly being cut away, like a cancer from the body.

And as always... this is where the dream fades, I don't know the fates of these people, perhaps it is yet to be writ....

I suppose that's enough anyhow. It's lot to take in.

Just one.

I've been single for about seven months now. After ending a marriage you learn a lot about yourself. I suppose you could struggle with it, but, for myself, I've learned that when someone throws a hand grenade at you, you can't really fight it off. Just give that thing a big 'ol hug and hang on for the fiery ride.

What does a hand grenade have to do with dinner you ask? Well.... nothing really. It's just a metaphor, and honestly I don't care for that one. It's not one of my better analogies for sure, but hey, it'll do in a pinch. So what happens is, once you're single again you spend a lot of time with friends, you finds ways to fill up your time, to fill up space, to fill in that chunk of you that's missing. But at some point, you're going to be hungry. You are going to be alone. And you'll go out of your head if you stay at home. These three things will invariably converge. So just give that thing a big 'ol hug and go out for dinner.

Now, at first it seems a bit scary, because, nobody is alone, not out in public.

Wait up a second there, you say, that's just a load of crap. Wait up yourself, I say. I've been dining out alone many times recently and what I've noticed is how starkly obvious the contrast is. There will be almost no one alone. Friends, lovers, mates, families, what have you... they are all there. And sure most of the time, I am out with friends, but you know, they get busy, and my life seems to have it's own schedule lately, and I've found it's better to just give in (speaking for myself, this is not advice to you) and go along for the ride. This is no carnival ride. No ride in the country. It's scary. It's horrid. It's fantastic. At times it's the best thing I've felt.

But I ramble on. The point is, there you are. They are many. You are just one.

Like on that Sex in the City episode. It's exactly like that. You get the funniest looks. Trust me though, it makes *them* more uncomfortable than it does you.

And speaking of consistant...

I just realized I used almost the exact same sentence in my last two blogs. Lame.

And speaking of French cafe's...

I went back to that French cafe the next morning (it was near my hotel and I wanted the pancakes, they looked delicious), and I potatoes and eggs with my breakfast, and also toast. They brought butter and jam for the toast. I think the French make excellent jam, by the way. They also brought ketchup for the eggs and potatoes. Do they even have ketchup in France? And on their breakfast? Or is it just me?

Wait to be seated.

That's what the sign says as I walk into the little French cafe. It's a nice enough place, for sure. Pleasant to look upon, the food is quite delicious, even if they are fudging a bit on the 'French' part. But they certainly aren't fudging on that sign. Nope. Wait to be seated. And wait. And wait. I did not count the time. Usually when I think to pay attention to the time, I'd have such an inaccurate account of it's passage that there isn't really any point. But eventually the girl comes over and leads me to a seat. The service is fine, and again the food is good. I got over the wait pretty quick.

I went back the next morning for breakfast (it was near my hotel and I wanted the pancakes, they looked tasty) and I walked in and waited to be seated. And waited. And waited.

They're nothing if not consistent.

Shopping in Chinatown.

He was waiting outside on the sidewalk while she was inside shopping. Why didn't he just go in with her?