March 4, 2012 Sunday

A Car honks out on the street. A moment in thought, what is going on out there? It's near 3AM and Marty just dropped off Maddy and I at home. We''d spent the last almost 4 hours watching 30 Rock back to back, before that "Ru-Paul's Drag Race", before that a trip to Giant Tiger where Maddy discovered her food stamps had not been replenished for the month and where I ate my usual sour cream donut without purchase. That's right. I flat out did not apply Free D with P. But <addy bought Morning Star biscuits and before that were jumping around in a Pete and Pete dumpster outside an upscale apartment building near "Cleveland Gray's Armory" looking for records and milk crates. Actually I don't think we were really looking for any of those things, the door to the dump was just open, becoming reason enough to investigate what was inside a mostly clean looking large dumpster. Boxes & trash bags of clothes, mattress and box spring. Marty and Carl were jumping all over so I hope they don't end up with bed bugs or anything. Carl found a Luther Vandross record, but as he heard what sounded like a pack of bros heading down the street, he force-ably flung it up and out into the air. It seemed like we were all frozen in time, looking into each others eyes, waiting for it to touch down somewhere. I thought it would be broken glass or a car alarm. But just a thud, and a moment later a confused "WHOA!" It was hard to stay so quiet. Then a lady's voice "What are yall doing in there?" as we booked it down the street, Marty milk crate in hand I found out it was a woman in an upstairs window. Good we left before cops were called or something, or before Maddy decided to keep that Mesh-fish-net-ty shirt. We could have been there a long time.

And before that we were at a Lake Erie Monsters "AHL" ice hockey game at the Q, Gund Arena. I've certainly never been to a hockey game in Cleveland. It took us a bit to get in actually. MArty had 2 free tickets but we discovered regular ticket prices were 25 each. 12.50 a piece that'd be. And everybody knows me as Mr. cheap skate right now so I couldn't do that. We walked about and found some scalpers who tried to sell us tickets for 20 a piece. Saying they're gonna charge for oxygen soon, that's scalper's language. In a passionate craze, Marty and Carl started trying to scalp tickets for cheaper to compete. We ended crossing the street feeling defeated, but one of the dudes chased us down and all of the sudden, we have tickets and we're booking it for the arena enterence. It takes me eons to get them to admit they paid 10 each. Guilty about it I split cost on a 6 dollar endless bucket of popcorn. One that mad my teeth aching by the end of the game. We grabbed seats and stuck ourselves in the path of a spilt beer/ They had dudes dressed as the Hanson brothers from "Slapshot" scooping/cleaning up the ice. Taped glasses and mullets. Marty gets a kick making fun of number 15 for the Charlotte Checkets team who falls standing in one place for no reason. "You fell for no reason!" "Hey number 15, why don't you fall again?!" It's called a "Flop" we are informed. During the Monsters few scores we're up on our feet screaming, throwing popcorn in the air, the two teenage boys behind us are cheering hysterically trying to catch our popcorn. Marty snatches the bucket and throws a huge handful i the air. In front of us sits some suburban family. 2 young sons just having a good time, their mom, artificially tanned, dark, flat ironed hair with a muffin top. They're all in Brown's jerseys. Dad, bad buzzed-ish hair we learn is a car salesman. He looked like one. But this guy is just giving us this death-stare as if we'd been shoving popcorn down his precious kids's throat. Marty leans behind Maddy telling me he can't look at him with this smile on his face, tail between his legs. It's a great us against them moment. And this ridiculous buzzed dad just keeps on starring it's intense, he's not even watching the game. But our defining moment arrives when the first shot in a jumbotron audience montage gets Carl, Marty and Mervin the puppet. I see it immediately and start screaming, it's great. And that ain't all. The kids behind us are so excited as Carl screams and hugs them both. "WE DID IT!"High fives and happiness. But again, this time a close shot of Mervin with those teen boys in the back and we're going Ape-shit! Tonic water is flying, Marty and Carl aren't even in the shot, but Marty pops up in the screen as some kind of elevator and sticks his head right in Mervin's mouth. Total "kiss-kam"! Everyone's cheering and I want to kiss somebody, I feel like I'm in an Adam Sandler movie. At the very end everyone's hugging. I'm high-five-ing the teen boys with their dad. IT's beautiful amongst all of this popcorn-throwing-angsty-chaos-drinking sips of tonic water that tastes like your used dental floss, or ... a homeless man's breath. WOOF! I have a crush on my friends! I love these guys!

March 3, 2012 Saturday

11:30AM - Wake up a lump. My sleeping in, am I wasting so much time? I had in my head to go to the station today and participate in record refiling but it's so windy, I'm not sure anymore. I guess it's easy to feel discouraged through when you just wake up. I'm making coffee and sitting in the kitchen and the 1 dollar I tried not to spend last night, I did on a coke at Tinas. Lots of singers. Marty, Carl, Andy, Jake, and I danced a lot, mostly in accompaniment to others karaoke time. I even removed my shoes. But still I shouldn't have spent that dollar.

I woke up after this really weird dream. I was in San Francisco but it looked nothing like it, It was night time and still any fan of my band in Cleveland was floating about. But later. I was taking their rail and kept ending up at the top of this one building, an old building where the door to the stop was a weird stone slab that would just de-materialize at the push of a button for you to get through. It was on this top floor and everything was covered in a thick layer of dust or ash. I figure I kept going back up this place that was deserted, though I don't know why. Things about it kept hanging. It was on a rooftop and doors would all of the sudden become inaccessible and one of these times the doors to the rail like some Jedi technology was no longer in service, The button wouldn't work. I was somewhat terrorfied thinkin I was trapped there, sealed in. the place had been abandonded so long, they finally shut down the stop everything was grey and I walked around in despair but all the sudden, light and the place was spik & span and some guy was showing around a small group of young adults who wanted to rent the place. The kitchen was all neat and modern, dark caramelly wood and black. But what comes to my attention and he acknowledges me is that one of the folk is Elijah under a wig. And he's laughing to me and owe are surprised to see each other. And I'm relieved because I'm not trapped. I don't know why he's in disguise but the place grows dark again from the spot by the rail door and my band is supposed to be playing this show to be recorded on this rooftop place. I'm alone by the rail door and in this corner where the ceiling gets lower there are rafters and such I find Sam. He's hung himself. And I feel like I've seen this before, found him like this before, but this time it's it and he's dead. He's killed himself and this becomes this whole tragic theme of our show. Sam is dead and gone and none of us knows what to do. The room is full of Cleveland people and color. I walk about so upset and traumatized after finding him. Alan and Hank call in some friend with white hair in a pony tail from another band who can sit in. I'm on the phone with Rachel Dratch, that old SNL comedian who is just more funny looking than funny. I don't know why. She lives with Gio and I'm trying to meet up with her but she's too cheap for the rail fare and keeps getting mad, but the band starts up. I have to hang up on her and probably look like a dipshit for being on my phone. I can barely hear the mic, What I do is end up turning it off so I can turn it back on. There is still mourning in the air and people sit about sad. I am getting in and out of a swimming pool telling Rachel Dratch to just forget it and we'll see each other next time, and she thinks I have a lover I'm with. Back in the performance room Sam's ghost shows up and people are asking him all kinds of questions. How does it feel and all. He says it feels great, he's super spaced out too. And then his ghost tries to buy weed off of somebody and everybody is in awe that you can still smoke weed when you're a ghost. Okay and then I'm a kid with my friends asking parents if we can run off to other tents at a carnival. Maybe because I watched an episode of the Babysitters Club on VHS before I went to bed. Doesn't explain to Sam's suicide though. It did make me want floral leggings, Head-And-Shoulders-shampoo-hair (That Maddy has recently bought because supposedly it's good for Bacne) and little Danny Tamberelli. I daydream that maybe Jackie looked a little like little cute orange-haired Danny when he was little, before he was breaking hearts and making
records.

March 2, 2012 Friday

2PM - I have heard the voice of my generation, and his name is Ansel Arkin. In my room listening to Ansel and Kevin's record. It's so good. It's like nothing that's going on right now. As I told people last night. This is a band I could see myself paying 30 dollars to see some day. Plays at 45 RPM. My stereo was already set because I had been listening to those 7"s from the Path's basement. The show last night was great. He himself could have had more reverb, but it was both genius and spectacular, on fire and full of anger energy. He has this look on his face for a length of time, so serious, to which he says  ... "That was my Mit Romney face." I observe, like the T shirts, he does really look like Beavis & Butthead. Nearing the end of the set the jukebox from the bar starts infiltrating the room pretty bad. It's distracting but was super memorable.  During these pauses his hands are in the air in these dramatic gestures and this music is leaking in, he throws in there "What the hell is going on?" gestures into the mix. It makes everybody laugh. "Where can I get a record by the backup band?" "Uh.. myspace, last FM, itunes."I helped mom buy some records and a t shirt she can wear while gardening. I joke around with Kevin at the merch table. I put two copies of their record I bought under our 1 single record for sale. A kid comes up asking about it, to which I remark. "This is our first record, and this is our second record." pointing to revealing their record.

"You know what's a great thing to do at Sheetz? Open the donut case, pretend like you're sniffing something and take a bite." Car ride with Carl and Jake to get Maddy at Albert and Caitlin's. The bazaar was creep. Old people staring suspiciously. It's annoying to be watched like you're about to steal. Steal a warped record, or a pilled old Adidas sweater.

February 29, 2012 Wednesday

Target. I'm still very wet from our swim at Cudell Rec center. Twas Maddy, Carl, Marty and I. We're now here to bug Jake and get 50 cent drinks. Venti coffee for Carl, iced coffee venti for me. Strawberry smoothie for Marty, big iced americano for Maddy. "It's been a very "ghetto" day" says Marty. It's the last day of Black History month. Marty insists on us playing loud music with our cell phone speakers. I guess they're watching "Pootie Tang" tonight. I hafta work on my show. Movie talk at Starbucks in Target. Dad flicks, "Dawn of The Dead" To Earthfare to buy natural "ghetto" food like Seitan chicken nuggets. Shopping list. Maybe we can punctuate the night with another episode of Ru Paul's Drag Race.

February 28, 2012 Tuesday

Last night was really a mover and a shaker around the house. Maddy made dinner. This spicey-as-hell Penne Pasta for Marty, Carl, Chubby, Jake, James Spader and I. And it turned into Maddy turning on her projector when I put on some jams to clean up to. Kuruki! Then she took this glasswear and dripped different color dye into it. It was the coolest! Chubby looked dazed in the shitty chair. It made everything look psychedelic and spectacular. Some Madonna too and I think I want to use this projector idea in a music video for either one of my songs or a band song. Great moving shadows. Maybe 3 doing synchronized dances. We played taboo for a bit. Carl and Marty won and we were all pissed off at the game by the end. Maddy played us a song she feels guilty for liking by this "Lana Del Rey" chick and we danced some more. Bobby Brown, New Kids on The Block, Spice Girls, Guru girl queen Bat For Lashes, Gary Glitter, Enigma. With the projector light exploding behind him, John Hurley looked like a perfect 1980s heart throb spurned or pining away. I took the video to Bobby Brown's 'Rock Witcha' Ended the night with "name that soundtrack" I think Marty and Chubby were too tired to object.

Sheetz in Parma. No food purchase for moi. but I do enjoy a trip. Jake's avegetarian eats a wheat bun with some weird shit on it. A guy that looks like Nick Nulte eats 2 personalized pizzas alone. This Sheetz has a seating area. On our way in a guy is plowing through this powdered donut, just destroying the thing. As we walked by he looked as if we caught him in the act doing something dirty. He left behind a poswered war zone in his wake. A clerk yells something about a "Maddy" or at a "Maddy" and Marty counters "Bitch, get my name outcha' mouth!" We laugh, but the guy in the Eddie Bauer sweater almost loses his slurpie wakling out the door. "This guy's my new best friend" very enjoyable to make other people laugh by surprise. When he comes back in he's being rambunctious as the clerks are burning a bagel and the place is filling up with smoke. I think he's trying to impress Marty, make friends, like a cat in heat. On our way here as wherever you drive through Parma with Maddy we got the ... well, Maddy tour. St. Dimitri's and the different rooms she shat herself in. Her ex-step mom's house with a haunted basement. Now we're sitting in the ... seating area taking photos of my impression of Claire Federman in that I thought were actually impressions of Maddy's mirror face. Then Marty has a selection of celebrities he can clip in the photo. He chooses Tupac in Claire's picture. In the car, Maddy sat next to the Queen of England and Michael Jackson. Maddy, "Can I drive home?"

February 26, 2012 Sunday

4:30 AM Still Saturday, because awake I am still. What a most fun and great night with friends. With Carl, Jake, and Jennifer. They picked me up in Jennifer's car and we went to George Ding's party. Stropping at CSU Boyle Tower first so Jake could sign in in time. Otherwise no spooning with his sweetie. Carl and I waited in the lobby and tried to decide if the 1930s country club photos capturing Boyle tower's past were fake or not. "She's texting!" So, 3 friends, an Iraq war veteran asking for money, 4.50 to get his car out of this lot who sings reggae, a bottle of nasty Southern Comfort, a mason jar of toddy, and George's home-made Bailey's later, we are dancing our night balls off. Also a Trent Kinder band plays. Vibes are flying through the air like confetti leaves. Carl is killing it. I'm teaching Matt Waters dance moves. I'm falling in love with Carl. I'm in love with everybody! So many happy faces, and not a dry seat in the house. Everybody dancing and having a good time. But letting any preconceived notions fly out the window I did what I wanted to. What-the-hell, this Trent Kinder's group has a skinny guy in high -waisted wool slacks and an orange sweater with Hugh Grant hair and a mustache on guitar and vocals. A Third Man thing going on the label I mean. All night I'm dubbing him a "Flosten" kid. One of those oh-so-beautiful-Burberry-add-kids. Every move a photograph. It's a mean thing but so much of the tie they act like this/come off this way. You've met them once maybe, hosted one of their "guru girl" photo series in a Barfarama "art show" at your house, but they still won't acknowledge you. Sometimes my eyes wander with this kid. He doesn't seem to be with everybody else. Talking with a few friends, moving from corner to corner. Talking with George. Dancing just a little. He's out of a novel, and it's hard to tell if these people are jerks or if they're just socially awkward. He's sitting up on George's loft bed with his feet hanging over. WE're about to leave, I say, "Who cares?" to myself, "Why not?" You can't stop looking. So I climb. "Hi.. I liked your group." and the response was little lights in his eyes. A warm glow and a sweet soft-shy kind of voice. "I saw you out there, I liked your footwork." He shakes my hand "I'm William", "I'm Phillipa" Good-to-meet-yous. Before we leave I tell him to go to George's again when George & Sam start doing the soul parties. Maybe I should have been friendly sooner, but oh well. It just goes to show you never can tell with people unless you try. Say hi. Let them know you notice them. It's really something, not exchanging anything but names, with an urge to meet somewhere again time undecided in the future. I like that. Suspenseful, like a movie. He waved again when we were at the door. William the sweet guy sitting over there, and you know that now. You said Hello. I think he wanted George or Sam to play some Beatles.

11PM - Carl's house. Nell another night. In front of the wide screen again. Maddy talks about her 12 hour long dream last night. Some guru saying the Gods gave him a new color called "Trillium". Ann Turner was there, Maxwell's sister. She was in a "Rock" city. Jennifer thinks Maddy is a "Pheobe" in "Friends-World". I'm a "Monica". Courtney Cox. I listen to Carl, Liz Norris, Adam Goldman and Maddy speak in tongues about Psyche & Prog music and maybe I would know what they're talking about if Carl ever made me the tape he said he would ages ago. I the dark about such things I guess I don't are that much. I'm content safari-ing for new synth pop. There's no end. It's 11:11 make a wish! Cats can hear your fingers rubbing together loud, "It's called Kittie num nums, and cats love it." Trying to think of games, stuff to entertain ourselves. We can't be here too too late, Maddy watches Gem at 7am. Scattergories it is!

February 22, 2012 Wednesday

4AM The humming of the soda machines at the Staples Mills rail station could be an Angelo Badalamenti score. Laura Palmer's theme. The same hum as the frozen section in the Pleasure dome Giant Tiger, W. 117th. I forgot to wave bye to dad in his car when he drove away. It was a good hug though.

The canned black coffee is disgusting .. so awful. "Illy Cafe" no no. And what I did with it, I spilled the damn thing all over myself trying not to let moms bag fall over. Coffee strikes again, Teddy Roosevelt would be proud, guzzling a gallon a day ain't nothing I have that doesn't have a coffee stain. Coffee stain my life.

9:2 - Something AM. Filter Coffee shop on 20th St. NW in  Washington DC. It took a bit of turning around to get here and some aching shoulders and a 2.40 dollar Metro ticket. w Pandas on it. Mom pausing to say she doesn't think she can do this in front of the 1890 mansion church of Scientology. A breather on the steps. We have so much luggage it's almost obscene. We're packing moms vintage light bulbs and I'm wheeling that around in her laptop rolling case. So I've got my unnecessary 2 bags plus this roller. Mom has her mid-sized roller and giant canvas sack. We're ready for a middle-class safari you'd think. Mom also comments that she's seen several people look at our luggage with "disdain". What is wrong with me that I managed to travel San Fran for a week with only 1 bag, chrome full and now I'm carrying 2? I need to rethink some things looks like.

Cold brew is in my hand. It is an espresso blend of Panama and Brazilian. Filter is in Dupont circle. We took the red line. I took mom down the street in the wrong direction. F. I can smell the Eucalyptus heavy. The cute girl at the counter looks familiar and likes my necklace. The guy and her both answer when I ask if they serve a cold brew. "All year round" he says with a smile. Mom's friend 's office is at the metro stop on blue line. We can put our bags there after all!

10:44 - On the mall. Dirt paths The Washington monument to my left. Amidst the galleries of the Smithsonian. The metro also to my left. Mom ran into the Freer Gallery behind me to find a bathroom. It was a full 15 minute wait for the cargo train. An asian mom and 2 kids boy and girl snap a photo standing on a bench. The girl repeats several times "Greetings from Washington DC!" Now she takes pictures of the kids pointing at the Washington monument. "Nathan, I can't even see you. Nathan look at me. Fine, don't be in pictures" an they're off. I'll probably never see them again. Haven't heard from moms friend. 2 more pretty asian girls study the National mall map. One has a pretty handbag in the shape and design as a decorative Japanese fan. I hope mom is okay.

3:17 PM - A pigeon lands in front of me inside Union Station where mom and I sit. Mom dips her head into her scarves dozing off to sleep. Cute little guy. Little affirmation of life in all of this commuting chaos. Pecks at crumbs on the ground. If only it had been around an hour ago as I passed a small McDonalds french fry overboard between the Chipotle and Au Bon Pain. Birdy now sits in rafters above some upper deck. Spooked a woman and child that didn't see him. Chicago gate D15. We skipped out on a lot of Smithsonian on account of tired feet and wanting to be better safe than sorry with too much bad luck trains, customer service, etc. I mean what is this, bad customer service? Why are you being paid? To be an asshole to me for absolutely no reason? Give me a break. Mom and her friend and I check out the Freer Gallery, Asian art, featuring a fair amount of Hokusai screens and painted pottery, a few sketches, Dad was red jealous over the phone. Hokusai, painter of the Great wave. His favorite. I enjoyed a screen depicting animals in different seasons of the year in particular. Turtles, ones on the bottom of the sea looking up at a turtle on the surface. Really good with detail. Joints and bones and spot on with patterns in men and women's clothing. It's superb, and free to look at. Makes me want to try painting more. I have ideas I may have mentioned, then onto the natural history museum just mom and I through herds of parents and children. I wanted to see some kind of artifact, something with a historical significance in popular culture. I had written down exhibits I wanted to see but had not been aware of the permanent collections. What our draw ended up being was rocks, in particular, The Hope Diamond. What kid into paranormal history or who saw "Titanic" 7 times in theatres wouldn't be into that? So we came and we saw. It was pretty. Sparkling and wondrous with history and it will outlast us all. With all our fingerprints smudged away.

We walked on through a maze of colored rocks, precious and semi precious, cut, polished and not so much. Tiaras given as gifts by Napoleon with turquoise in replacement of the original emeralds with diamonds. An actual "Emerald Necklace".  It's amazing what old Earth can make with it's own hands given time and gas. I wish I could say that for all of us. Mom goes gaga over it all. I realize how man great synth band names are floating around this exhibit. "Mineral Friends" "Rhodocrosite?"

On train, getting on double decker in daylight hours, not common. Jerry, the coach attendant is a lively man, I inform him that there's more to see in Cleveland than the rock hall. "I never knew" says he. He has a great speech for everyone on the train. Spunky. Maybe it's the daylight. It's just, usually Amtrak attendants look like a bunch of dead horses or like they're going through withdrawals. Cracks joke about his chicken embroidered cap falling off the overhead compartment in front of this lone traveling Judge Reinhold type, balding. "You're stealing my hat already?" A righteous dude. I catch the guy laughing to himself. I like that. People laughing to themselves. It means they're remembering something. Then he cracks open a can. His hands move over the label slowly before I can tell what it is. A tall boy can of "Icehouse" beer. I can't not smile. Hands on a can. He has a crushed-ish box of Corn Chex in bis bag too.

First stop, Rockville, MD. I'm waiting for the lid on my "Pret" Orange juice to blow off again with a bang with all the shit that's mixed in it now. Was good OJ then I mixed Rooibos ... WOOF! Then later to put the kabash on the honk smoothie I poured what was left of my grape juice detox soda from Pret in there. So it's this funky semi-carbonated liquid that tastes the way my concoctions as a kid with kitchen oils and herbs would smell and then I poured them on the furniture and lied about them. I think maybe I'll dump it out. Let the train insides have it. Use the bottle for my coffee. Until it pops again and I stain something else.

Bathrooms - I like Amtrak bathrooms. They are in my experience minimalistic, color coordinated and for the most part, clean. I just used one with a changing room fit with a vanity and xtra sink! I feel like a star with a super flush-suck toilet. I even appreciate the font in which "trash" and "diapers & napkins" is etched in the steel compartment shoots. I would have one for my own. In a very 1960s - 70s hue of orange.

"Wild and Wonderful West Virginia everybody! You'll have to maintain your enthusiasm." says Jerry. Sounding like Tim Meadows. Judge Reinhold and I share a share and chuckle in that way that 2 people in eye shot of each other seats across can't help. I look over at mom heavily breathing in dreamland mouth-open. I can't escape Judge over there motioning at mom "----Out-----" he says. I wonder how that Icehouse is feeling. The conductor comes on and reminds us of the upcoming smoke breaks and that on the train it is illegal. We could be escorted off train by police. I dare see judge pointing at me "Smoking" earlier as I parked my head on the tray table for a nap Elementary school style. I hear Judge call over  "Do you want a pillow?" "There are some over here and more above".. "No thanks"... all is over. Reminds me how sad I was that no one was around for me to make reference to podcasts on band car trips passed. Comedy Death Ray or Bang Bang or something featuring a very self depreciating "Paul Giamati". At one point I can't remember what is going on but everything he says is echoing, all of his complaining and wining and he's getting lost in it and lets out a fierce "I'm in hell!" and well, no reference could have better described how I was feeling going up and down escalators rolling suit cases to the metro carrying two heavy bags of my own on my back. I had a Paul Giamati in me amongst crowds of students, moms, field trips, and young and old professionals in those tunnels yelling "I'm in hell!" about to explode/implode and nobody was around to laugh at that except me. And I did.

Judge ruffles through his Corn Chex. I hear plastic crinkle and chex crush in his hand then I hear little Chex hit the vents near the floor and bounce "CHING!"--- I bang my head on the tray table trying to look down at vent just now. I get his attention. -- I hear crunching and him laughing at something on his phone. Then attendant comes by saying he needs to cover up his tall boy that we're not supposed to have outside alcoholic beverages on the train. Judge acts surprised through his Corn Chex-mouth. But locked in mutual understanding, attendant (Not Jerry) lets it slide. "Just cover it up" and like a concerned father, takes one of the Amtrak pillows, made of dryer sheets and puts it on the beer. It was heartwarming.  I look at him, he shrugs in a Steve Urkle kind of way and I go "shhh" in jest. "I know!" He says in Chex-mouth. He thinks I write tiny. The sun goes down in West Virginia. I guess I won't get to see any of those little woodland trailer paradises. Judge Reinhold laughs "Too tall" banging his head on the overhead.

"You can't write now. You can't see that" Judge says. I realize I might should have sat in the observation car while it was still light out and I could see. Oh well. A car zips though the night with it's headlights. It could be traveling through space. Just like Maddy, Granger and I were on the Highway 1, California coast in the middle of the night, fog rushing in. "I don't need to see it" I say. Jerry walks down the aisle holding a dinning car menu looking confused. The food is also, like the trash cans, made from recycled material. Smoke break, Cumberland MD! Suck it Amtrak! I can't sleep... this must be the Cleveland car. Everybody's going out for a smoke. The golden land of inhibitions. A Sheetz glows in the Oasis of Little Caesar's & Burger King. I would destroy macaroni bites right now, just because I'm bored.

Why did I have so many crazy F-d up dreams this past week? Not so much last night. Not much sleep, though I was trying to get myself out of a very large tree shaped like an animal. It was very high up and I don't remember how I got up there, but Stephanie Ruggerio was there and Tall Adam was somewhere on the ground perhaps with friends. Darren Embry may have been there too. But the night before was just utter child-molesting chaos. Well.. more than children. they were these creepy males, one who might not exist alike anyone I actually know. But I had let him too much into my life after people warned me... kind of like this radio dude (not like I'm implicating him) and I the parts of the dream I can remember he is chasing Maddy and I around our house and we are hiding form him in a bedroom. It's more like a long one floor house like the ones in Alabama. He's a shorter skinny guy with thinning hair. It's a freaky dream. We know he's killed somebody we know, but who? Don't know. It's like we're early high school aged again. H e's kicking at the door psychotically, all of this pounding on doors in my dreams. Then we are spinning through a wet parking lot with other of our guy friends and I think my mom is driving. And we're almost crying. We don't want to let this guy, thin hair guy in the car. But he's one of us, our friends and mom doesn't understand. I think Carl and Marty and Leo are there. Maybe thin hair guy has killed some girl, and he's trying so desperately to get in the car. I'm reaching to keep the sliding door shut ad I'm crying. Then... this is awful but there's this guy James who I've booked for art shows at The Path who has also been doing something bad. He's heavier with thick blonde/white hair. I just see him walking in and out of doorways in the daylight. From what I can remember it doesn't seem like much, but it was so much. all in the dreams was uneasiness and terror in the face of people I thought I knew. I need to start filming this stuff! I miss Maddy and my boys.

Some guy just barely made it back onto the train from smoking.

You know sometimes I truly find myself in memory trying to figure out what were dreams and what were things that actually happened. I mean some things seem so ridiculous to me that now I think, of course they must have been dreams. But I remember times as a kid I would ask myself these same questions. and be totally convinced that yes, they were real. Like this confusing dream or memory I have of Sandy and Shelly, my cousins and I climbing up through a hole in their closet up into these mazes and mazes stacked on top of each other of rooms and we could hide and play in them. Some rooms were literally no bigger than a coffin that you had to squeeze through. Others with ramps and inclines bisecting the room that you had to scooch up to the next cubby hole. Utterly strange. But in my head for years anytime my head dredged it up for whatever reason, I would always think of it as a memory and not a fantastical dream. What does that mean? And if it wasn't real, why did I think it was?