Dream 9/23/09

I think his name was Gerald, or Ed, or one of those names commonly given to older men who live alone. I'll go with Gerald. Gerald lived alone in a small apartment that, at least at the time of my dream, was rather dark. He had, for some time, been employing a group of mice to cook him meal after meal. (Even though Gerald was a tall, extremely thin man, his appetite was voracious.) The mice created and served him a rotating set of courses that were grand in their preparation, but usually made of bland ingredients, such as potatoes, boiled eggs, and white bread. It's the way Gerald wanted it.

As Gerald sat shirtless (this was how I knew how thin he really was), long, bony limbs furiously orchestrating the procession of utensils from plate-to-mouth, the apartment suddenly grew darker and the walls began to shake. The mice were in a panic, and retreated to the sink where they spent most of their time when they weren't cooking. Without warning, water gurgled forth from the drain, flooded the sink basin, and then retreated back into the pipes, taking with it Gerald's rodent chefs. [Cut to view from inside the sink, looking up through the drain] The mice are swirling down into the green murky waters, grasping for something to cling to. They start to swim and I'm comforted by the realization that these might be mice that can breathe underwater. They disperse (off to a pipe that will lead them to safety/another sink exit?) and the view once again changes to Gerald's kitchen as he's standing over the sink trying to comprehend what just took place. He looks down into the cold, steel sink; red grapes are laying in the bottom. I believe that at this point dramatic violin music starts, interspersed with the musical tension of classic horror movies.

As Gerald peers into the drain, hints of something tan and brown begin to emerge from the shadows. What look like hairy, pocked sticks begin to unfold into view, and a bulging, uneven orb with black, lifeless eyes slowly rises... it's a sick, mutated spider! BOOM I'm in a theater watching a trailer for a new movie and I am screeeeaammming at the sight of this freak-creature coming towards Gerald—towards me! Somewhere, in the back row, someone is telling me to shut up.

Cravings!

We all get cravings—sometimes it's for ice cream, other times for pizza or chocolate. I often find myself getting sharp cravings for clothing. Not like, "Oh, I need a new leather jacket", but more specific. For example, last night as I was falling asleep, I unexpectedly felt an intense need to wear boots. Immediately.

Not just any boots—I had a specific vision: 80' lace-up ankle boots. But not just any 80's lace-up ankle boots... they had to have sweater cuffs. If I had had a pair in the freezer, I would have gotten out of bed and put them on at 1 am. And, I don't even like these types of boots! I don't know what came over me—but it's all I could think about for the rest of the night, spilling over into today. I guess I am suffering from the fashion equivalent of odd pregnancy cravings.

Yes, yes, yes

Thank you CuteOverload.com for this spectacular comparison...

Kitten, will you marry me?

Double-dose

Ok, now, this coupled with the new Radiohead song might be too much awesomeness for one days' worth of entries, but, please behold:

I know that I could be mistaken, but I truly believe that whomever it is with this tattoo is so beyond any concept we have of "cool", that I'm amazed I didn't go blind just looking at the photo.

Stay gold, indeed!

New Radiohead!

Radiohead recently released a new song, These are my twisted words (thanks Matt!). You can download it here for free. 

AND, when you do download it, and you know you will, because it's Radiohead (and free), you also get a PDF containing 15 tree designs, with the suggestion to print on tracing paper. I would love to see some simple, haunting animation done with these. The way they are drawn makes you feel like you're under the tree, looking up. For some reason, I assumed lying down. (Get ready to see some new Halloween decor this year, Liz!)

In honor of the release, I decided to write down my own words, as they came to me, while listening to the new track. I typed whatever little story started growing in my mind and stopped writing when the song ended. Please forgive spelling and grammar mistakes, I wasn't really paying attention. It's kind of a fun way to experience a new song, and I suggest giving it a try. Anyway, so here's what These are my twisted words made happen in my head: 

"there is man in a room, an old dusty bar with few patrons and wood for walls. It’s dark, and he’s tapping his foot really fast. Another man enters, no, he was there all along. He’s playing his guitar. He might be in the man’s head. There’s a window with mountains outside, but the view is obscured by slivers of trees; black streaks against the sunset. He’s tapping his foot, faster and faster. He stops and walks over to the window, taking his hand and running it through his thick, greasy hair. It’s white, but yellowed with age. The other man is completely in shadow, but his guitar is vibrating the glasses on the table. The man begins pacing the room again, hands flying in foreign gestures. The window expands until it is the forefront. Grass and trees spin back, dipped, and pop up to see inside the bar; the man pacing, now through the window. He’s obscured by the shado-guitar man. The tree streaks quiver and stop. Repeat and stand still. The sun goes down."

 

A different shade of grey

The temperature hit 107 in Portland a few weeks ago and there was only one thing for me and my roommates to do: put the air conditioner in the living room window, block the doorways with blankets, and wear as little clothing as possible.

As the heat wave persisted and the hours spent in our homespun fortress mounted, minds began to melt alongside ice cubes, sense and custom evaporated, and we soon found ourselves echoing the hum and frenzy of those perpetual residents, the ladies of Grey Gardens.

Thankfully, the temperate Oregon summer returned, as did our clothes and sanity.

A sentiment I can understand

Just saw this wonderful wall sticker on anything goes.

"I love you more than sleep" by Robert Ryan.

If I ever say this to someone, you'll know it's serious.