7/26

fist full of quarters in this vending machine world

recurring dream 2

I'm inside the flat. I walk over to the window and see the bustle in the street below. I turn and walk into the living room. I sit down at the computer and look over, she sits up and smiles. I start working on something, quickly getting immersed in the glowing screen. She gets dressed and comes over to me, whispers something in my ear and I smirk. She moves into the kitchen as I slowly get up and dress myself. I look in the mirror and see her coming up behind me. She's wearing a dress, it fits her perfectly. I gape at her, she giggles and wraps her arms around my waste. We talk at each other in the mirror and laugh. We make our way over to the door and put on our coats. We walk down a long staircase that leads out to the crowded street. I open the door and we wait for a gap in the people to get out. I take her hand and and we start walking. Everyone on the street is walking in the opposite direction. Noone touches me but they all seem to bump into her. I tighten my grip and lead her up the street. We eventually make it to a park bench at the end of the block. We sit and watch the people move. We look at each other and smile. She says something else and I check my watch. I stand up and take her hand again. We are going back the way we came, but again all the people in the streets are moving in the opposite direction. This time more and more she is being pummeled by body after body. It feels like I'm dragging her through the sea. After much effort we arrive back at the door. We climb the stairs and take off our coats. I sit down at the computer and begin working once again. She walks up behind me, spins the char and kisses me. I smile and brush her hair out of her eyes. She moves back into the bedroom and lays down. Then i wake up.

2/5/07 - recurring dream

The house is dilapidated. The bricks are all dark shades of red and none of them seem to be exactly the same color. Most of them are different sizes and the majority of them have shedded chips which cover the path to the house. There's thick green vines clinging to the side tighter than a toddler to their parents leg. The dirty grey shudders sway with the wind. I walk onto the porch and notice the adress sign. The address is 46876 however one wouldn't ever figure this out from a distance because the sixes are dangling by their nails and both form makeshift nines. The doorbell is ripped out of the wall and the wires don't look too safe. I reach for the knocker but the thick coat of rust deters me. I rap on the door but before the third knock it already swings open before me. There's a small boy with short blonde hair. He grabs my hand and leads me in. I look around the house and can't help but wonder how beautiful it would be if it was kept up. The boy keeps tugging my arm, through the den in which the walls were covered in posters, but all of them seemed to be ripped in half before being plastered onto the walls. There were three leather sofas, none of which had coushions and there were gaping holes in the back of two of them. He then lead me down the hall, past the kitchen in which a woman was emptying the cabinets of bowls and smashing them on the floor. But it seemed like every cuppord she opened contained endless amounts of bowls. And for some reason this didn't seem strange to the boy. Next we turned left and headed up the stairs. The rail going up was not wood, it looked like wood, but when I put my hand on it the surface sucked in and my hand print was left there. There was a room directly in front of the stairs with giant tv screens covering the walls, but all that was on them was static. He leads me into a room that looks completely normal. It's small, the walls are coated in a light blue paint and the ceiling is a very dark blue. The only things in the room are a dresser, a small round table with two chairs and a lamp. He switches on the lamp and gestures for me to come over by him. He puts my hand on the lamp and nods. I turn it off.Then I wake up.

irvine welsh

"Dreams are funny cunts, nae doubt aboot that. Ah've read a lot about them, from pop psychology tae Freud, but naebody kens for sure. Tha's what ah hate most aboot the world. Too many twats sayin this is how it is. This is how it is for thaim, they mean. Where's the fuckin doubt? Where's the fuckin humility in the face ay the wondrous complexity ay this great cosmic universe?"

9/14/07

There may be a ton of people but i dont feel any of them are worth my talking to. everyone who speaks up in this class seems to be doing so to intentionally try to bring down everyone elses mental capacities. everyone just seems so ignorant. stuck up, incomplex humans with generic feelings and beliefs who think theyre einstiens based only on the fact they attend a community college. I'm sure i could find a bit of worth in everyone here if they would wake up and realize the world isnt directly funcioning around them. it's like high school, supersized. they arent the center of the univers and neither am i. 'we are merely minute parts of a complex whole which i dare not attempt to understand' I need to find a drive, a place, a warmth, a balance, an expirience, a set of expiriences, that somehow brings me out. me, the real me. i feel i don't know myself which would make it entirely impossible for anyone else to know, or understand me, or even begin to. 'everyone can be an actor.' everyone already is an actor. it's bullshit to make this statement when everyone sitting in this room is already playing their role, including me. theres the annoying keep who wont stop laughing and sucking up to the professor, the slutty girl, the meatheads, the loud girl, the fat kid, the older person coming back to get their diploma after taking far too many years off, the drama kids, the band kids, the well dressed kid, the hipsters, i could go on and on but what would that do? everyone fits a stereotype, including myself. i can't tell you where i fit, but i'm sure everyone else in this room could tell you. Imitation and impersonation. its everyone, and everywhere. nothing changes, the same people, the same shit, the same me. I'm not inclined to hate. I dont wake up in the morning and set a goal number of people that i am going to dislike today. I think that everyone brings hate upon themselves. happiness can only be reached through yourself. i guess thats my problem. i dont make myself happy. I guess it's time to change. self loathing has gotten stale. time to find what i want. time to better myself. i want to be comfortable, i want to have self worth. i want to wake up and look at my day as another 24 hours i have to love my life.

highinart

can we run far from here
fields of grain or corn or rice
ANYWHERE in the open
the gray cement takes hold after a time
are we organic?
are we alive?
color stays but feeling dies

starch

i'm outside your window
i can feel your here
the burning we had
the unreachable itch
i can taste the words
i can't spit them out
private thoughts and a sticky mouth
it broke my heart to move my tongue