The Lolo I met this evening was white, and the photo in the article shows a black dude. Maybe the two fellas who danced to the rap for me tonight on the sidewalk were funnin’ me.
The Drivel Thread
- Thread starter Light Housework
- Start date
Oh well, whoever they were, it was a pleasant interaction, though I hope Morrissey will grow on them beyond being found to be merely nice.
Barking
Morrissey= Ghey Pop Trump.
It's nice that they reciprocated the musical advice. It's nicer and it makes more sense like that I think. It's more of an exchange.
Dream Drivel: I had the most amazing dream.
I dreamt that quite unexpectedly in a house full of stuff like a bric a brac shop I found a baby owl. And then a mummy owl. I was very surprised. For a while they flew around and landed my hand. That was cool. And then, tragedy! I couldn't see them anymore! I searched the whole house and in doing so I discovered all sorts of small animals everywhere and kept thinking what the!- there were even interesting imaginary animals but I had no time for them. At one point I fired someone for no apparent reason other than they didn't know where the owls were. At the end of the dream I was mad with worry . I came across an old lady and she very calmly pointed at the ceiling where the two owls were sleeping (actually lying on it.) I shed tears of relief in the old woman's arms and she said "why didn't you ask instead of looking everywhere?" and I woke up.
The dream had everything: a Harry Potter atmosphere. Fascinating creatures. Suspense. Comedy ( the constant animal surprises) A happy end.
On coming here I saw a picture of a budgie (?) Like the dream overspilling in reality.
Besides possible symbolic meanings, that dream could have something to do with my mum finding my passport the other day.
Dream Drivel: I had the most amazing dream.
I dreamt that quite unexpectedly in a house full of stuff like a bric a brac shop I found a baby owl. And then a mummy owl. I was very surprised. For a while they flew around and landed my hand. That was cool. And then, tragedy! I couldn't see them anymore! I searched the whole house and in doing so I discovered all sorts of small animals everywhere and kept thinking what the!- there were even interesting imaginary animals but I had no time for them. At one point I fired someone for no apparent reason other than they didn't know where the owls were. At the end of the dream I was mad with worry . I came across an old lady and she very calmly pointed at the ceiling where the two owls were sleeping (actually lying on it.) I shed tears of relief in the old woman's arms and she said "why didn't you ask instead of looking everywhere?" and I woke up.
The dream had everything: a Harry Potter atmosphere. Fascinating creatures. Suspense. Comedy ( the constant animal surprises) A happy end.
On coming here I saw a picture of a budgie (?) Like the dream overspilling in reality.
Besides possible symbolic meanings, that dream could have something to do with my mum finding my passport the other day.
gordyboy9
He Punched The Highlights Out Of Her Hair.
baz its the cover of 25 live blu ray,they have chopped out the background of the hollywood high school,definitely one of my favourite images.
I tried to sleep but the chest sore has been hurting more, and on my mind is the memory of when my adoptive mother’s boyfriend started picking on my adoptive sister during dinner, and I was fully grown and athletic by then, not the small child who didn’t stand a chance against him dragging my sister by her long dark hair on the floor years earlier. This time I stood up and told him to leave my sister alone, and he knew I meant business. I was ready to fight to the death and he felt it, and he left her be, but my mother and sister just ignored me and kept on eating with their eyes on their food. No acknowledgement whatsoever. Such was their shared contempt for me. I wasted so much of myself fooling myself in denial for so many years, believing they loved me unquestionably. Such was my dissociation from reality.
The world keeps turning. Everybody goes on tucking into their BBQ chicken, their bacon strips, their burgers, steaks, etcetera. Everything’s honky dory, until you feel the fork plunging into your own ass. Suddenly sadistic pleasure is distasteful and unjust. There there dear," One more spoonful. There’s a good boy.”. *multiple sigh*
I suspect that decades after that dinner, mum woke up and realized my sister didn’t love her, while I did, so she sent a walkman across the continent to me, and my sister got wind of it and ‘coincidentally’ mum soon became ill with a mysterious ailment swelling her up from her breasts down, killing her within days. Dad reached out to me for the first time when I was 8, and died of "a sudden heart attack” an hour later. His mother, Nan, began asking me to sing for her, and soon stood on a chair in the kitchen when I wasn’t there, to change a light bulb, and the chair came apart underneath her, resulting in a broken hip. She was flown across Canada to Kamloops, and my sister flew out to visit her at her hospital bed, and Nan died just after my sister’s visit. Our canary, I received a compliment from Mum when I was about 9, for bringing out the bird’s personality. Compliments for me from Mum were extremely rare. Soon I came home from school to see that canary in a small basket on the table, a red gash on his skull, unable to hold his head up. It didn’t occur to me at the time to doubt the story that he flew into a clasp that held the living room mirror to the wall, but decades later when my sister did something to f*** me over financially and I dared to question her about it, and she said “If all you want to talk about is money, you can say goodbye to me, your brother in law, our dog, and your nieces.”, I knew that what she really meant was that if I was going to open my eyes and examine her behaviour, I was dead to her, or rather she would prefer me to be dead. This, after her attempts to kill me, 4 times when I was small, and once, no, twice, when we were adults. The lights came on in my head about her at reading her ultimatum on paper, and I looked back at all the things she had done and saw the pattern of people and animals suddenly dying after my sister’s jealousy was roused. It had to have been her who put that bloody gash on our canary’s head.
She’d be very happy to learn that the stress test technician stuck something fatal into my chest a few months ago, finally finishing me off.
She’ll celebrate by picking up McDonald’s food for the family at the drive thru. Happy days.
Please excuse my bitterness. Don’t let me spoil your dinner.
I suspect that decades after that dinner, mum woke up and realized my sister didn’t love her, while I did, so she sent a walkman across the continent to me, and my sister got wind of it and ‘coincidentally’ mum soon became ill with a mysterious ailment swelling her up from her breasts down, killing her within days. Dad reached out to me for the first time when I was 8, and died of "a sudden heart attack” an hour later. His mother, Nan, began asking me to sing for her, and soon stood on a chair in the kitchen when I wasn’t there, to change a light bulb, and the chair came apart underneath her, resulting in a broken hip. She was flown across Canada to Kamloops, and my sister flew out to visit her at her hospital bed, and Nan died just after my sister’s visit. Our canary, I received a compliment from Mum when I was about 9, for bringing out the bird’s personality. Compliments for me from Mum were extremely rare. Soon I came home from school to see that canary in a small basket on the table, a red gash on his skull, unable to hold his head up. It didn’t occur to me at the time to doubt the story that he flew into a clasp that held the living room mirror to the wall, but decades later when my sister did something to f*** me over financially and I dared to question her about it, and she said “If all you want to talk about is money, you can say goodbye to me, your brother in law, our dog, and your nieces.”, I knew that what she really meant was that if I was going to open my eyes and examine her behaviour, I was dead to her, or rather she would prefer me to be dead. This, after her attempts to kill me, 4 times when I was small, and once, no, twice, when we were adults. The lights came on in my head about her at reading her ultimatum on paper, and I looked back at all the things she had done and saw the pattern of people and animals suddenly dying after my sister’s jealousy was roused. It had to have been her who put that bloody gash on our canary’s head.
She’d be very happy to learn that the stress test technician stuck something fatal into my chest a few months ago, finally finishing me off.
She’ll celebrate by picking up McDonald’s food for the family at the drive thru. Happy days.
Please excuse my bitterness. Don’t let me spoil your dinner.
Dreamt that the world was ending and there was nowhere to run to that wasn’t doomed to self destruct. No One Can Hold A Candle To You plays faintly in my head. I was trying to gather my belongings and take them out of the building that was self destructing but then realized there was no place better to go to. Still I tried to get my things out of that building, I guess because enemies were there. People whom I knew would blame me for the destruction that was happening.
I’m glad I don’t have to rush to get ready to go all the way to the Folk Fest this morning, trying to dodge the sun for hours and hours. I hear seagulls in the distance. I just ate an apple but feel hungry for something more substantial. Guess I’ll have some tahini. I have no headache this morning, and didn’t eat tofu yesterday, so maybe it is indeed the calcium sulfate in it that causes the headaches I’ve had recently. My right lung hasn’t been bothering me. My palms are still clear since finishing treatment quite some time ago, but the chest sore’s sensations keep me concerned, and I haven’t forgotten seeing what looked like tiny start ups on my thighs and left forearm of the same pink skin that the chest sore consists of. The tiny red spots fade to light pink a few days after they materialize. I’m relieved to have woken with no headache, lung pain, or reappearance of the fungal infection of my palms. I want to hear the lab coated middle aged Asian male technician divulge why he attacked my chest, what he injected into it, and where he got the substance from. But I probably never will. I have fantasized of revenge, but in reality I don’t think I could exact it. I’ll wait to hear the test results from the biopsy and then most likely write out a revenge fantasy, influenced by the test results. A crow just cawed nearby. The crows nearby have been letting up on their mad ruckuses. I just ate some tahini, which is a rich food, but still feel a hunger, and at the same time a faint nausea. It’s nearly 7AM and I want to go back to bed. I’ll have a look out the window first. Yay, I don’t have to scramble to get to the Folk Fest. This website’s quiet this morning. Life feels grueling right now. I don’t feel comfortable sitting here in my recliner, so I’m going back to my bed for a while before I write morning pages. I know I need to take action today working toward my goals, but I only want my bed now, and hope to fall back to sleep for a while. I know I’m lucky to have the option to do so. A great big bed in a small bedroom, and then my fountain pens when I get back up, and the great bathtub will help me get clean (on the outside at least). Blah blah blah.
I’m glad I don’t have to rush to get ready to go all the way to the Folk Fest this morning, trying to dodge the sun for hours and hours. I hear seagulls in the distance. I just ate an apple but feel hungry for something more substantial. Guess I’ll have some tahini. I have no headache this morning, and didn’t eat tofu yesterday, so maybe it is indeed the calcium sulfate in it that causes the headaches I’ve had recently. My right lung hasn’t been bothering me. My palms are still clear since finishing treatment quite some time ago, but the chest sore’s sensations keep me concerned, and I haven’t forgotten seeing what looked like tiny start ups on my thighs and left forearm of the same pink skin that the chest sore consists of. The tiny red spots fade to light pink a few days after they materialize. I’m relieved to have woken with no headache, lung pain, or reappearance of the fungal infection of my palms. I want to hear the lab coated middle aged Asian male technician divulge why he attacked my chest, what he injected into it, and where he got the substance from. But I probably never will. I have fantasized of revenge, but in reality I don’t think I could exact it. I’ll wait to hear the test results from the biopsy and then most likely write out a revenge fantasy, influenced by the test results. A crow just cawed nearby. The crows nearby have been letting up on their mad ruckuses. I just ate some tahini, which is a rich food, but still feel a hunger, and at the same time a faint nausea. It’s nearly 7AM and I want to go back to bed. I’ll have a look out the window first. Yay, I don’t have to scramble to get to the Folk Fest. This website’s quiet this morning. Life feels grueling right now. I don’t feel comfortable sitting here in my recliner, so I’m going back to my bed for a while before I write morning pages. I know I need to take action today working toward my goals, but I only want my bed now, and hope to fall back to sleep for a while. I know I’m lucky to have the option to do so. A great big bed in a small bedroom, and then my fountain pens when I get back up, and the great bathtub will help me get clean (on the outside at least). Blah blah blah.
Napped and feel much better, but I just rattle coughed. I hope I get called with the appointment for the CT scan soon.
Flopped back onto my bed shortly after my last post and dreamt vividly of being a newcomer in an organization and there was a man who I found was using it to his own ends, and I tried to warn the others, but kept getting thwarted I feared. Finally there was a celebration and I took small part in it, but sensed that self interested man lurking around waiting to hijack everything. I was still trying to warn people without getting smushed by him catching me. The last thing I remember I was walking through a dark alley to a location where some organization members would sometimes meet late at night. People were partying, and I didn’t see where I could really fit in anywhere, so I went back to headquarters and began to clean out straw from a great wooden wagon. I don’t know what I was looking for. Sleeping so much lately.
I am not happy. The chest wound keeps nibbling at me, and a loud table saw is cutting wood nearby. This combination is annoying. I feel so ineffective. Inconsequential. Insignificant. Hijacked. Disregarded. Used and insulted. I’m sure many feel this way. What’s one more? I’m just hoping to clean myself up and go for a walk this evening. My hope is gone that I will get anything more accomplished today than that, if even that. My life is a soap opera.
I hope I will enjoy tomorrow. Today’s a write off.
Everything I can do seems pointless today, but I know it’s just a phase. I hope not very long a phase, but it’s been about a dozen days since I’ve painted. That’s quite a long time. Tomorrow I’m supposedly going to see N, and will get painting with her. I hope we will see each other as scheduled. I want to clean the floor some before she arrives at my apartment. I feel I am walking a tightrope.
When I Am Gone
Breathe Fresh Air
I Don’t Think He Will Be Particularly Happy
Before It’s Been Threshed
"but then you kick me down below
cause you know it won't show
how could you?"
cause you know it won't show
how could you?"
"I know
i'll go
empty hand
from the land"
i'll go
empty hand
from the land"
I’ve listened to nearly two minutes of this and this guy seems very perceptive and articulate.
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