Remember the A La Mode

I had a strange and amusing dream last night, which was in a kind of documentary style, about this decorative Alamo that was, for some reason, in Chicago, and this tycoon who had flown into O'Hare, and had seen that Alamo as he was coming in, and had asked one of his friends where he should stay, and one of them quipped "How 'bout the Alamo?" To commemorate this, the guy then hollowed out the decorative Alamo (which was about the size of a tool shed) -- he had landscaping around it, and had stairs leading into it from either side. Inside it was this very shiny, liquid-smooth black benches, with rose- and blue-hued neon and argon lighting. The whole effect was like something straight out of the 80s. You could just sort of hang out in this odd, Vegas-seeming Alamo, with, of course, a commemorative plaque recounting the story of this bizarre construction, which had become a kind of legendary tourist attraction. I was there with my mom, explaining that to her, so there wa the straight-up documentary voiceover part of the dream, and then there was me explaining the place to my mom, who found it amusing, as well.

Radiator

I don't know if the hissing radiators did it to me, but I dreamed I was driving a Mercedes and the thing was perilously close to overheating, so I stopped the car somewhere and checked the radiator, which was nearly out of water, and went about filling the radiator up. Some celebrity had a cameo in the dream, like the gal who was fetching the water. It was like Claire Danes or Naomi Watts or somebody equivalent. I can't remember, now, but I kept having her get water, before realizing that there was a hose nearby, and that I could use that, instead. Anyway, I took care of that, only to wake up to the sound of the radiators, so I think my subconscious was on task, trying to solve the problem of it being too hot and/or me being thirsty, etc.

Dreamy

I don't routinely post dreams, because nothing's more boring than reading about somebody else's dreams, but my dreams have been odd, lately, full of celebrity cameos and what-not. For example, I dreamed that I was in some kind of cop movie-type scenario, flying low across the LA River (if you really want to call it a river), with 90s-era David Bowie riding shotgun with me, and offering commentary on the chase. We were cops, apparently, and Bowie was keen to get the bad guys, who were racing down the LA River whatever-you-call it--concrete apocalypse?

Another was an "Avatar"-scaled kind of war movie thing, with massive amounts of lasers and explosions and what-not.

Stevie Nicks. Eyes UP HERE, Stevie.

Another was me chumming around backstage with young Stevie Nicks, who took me on a whirlwind tour of her world (there wasn't any other Fleetwood Mac folks around, although there were shadowy others around, but it was all about Stevie). And, ultimately, there was sex with Stevie Nicks, which both enticed and alarmed me in the course of the dream, because I was thinking "Wow, I'm having sex with Stevie Nicks!" and at the same moment, it was like "Oh, SHIT; I'm having sex with Stevie Nicks -- and I'm not wearing protection?!?!!" But the dream shifted before those thoughts went anywhere.

Still another had me in a protracted dispute with an Indian hair salon owner, who insisted that I owed her $800, and I as insistently pointed out that I didn't owe her place more than $20 for the haircut I'd just gotten, and we were going back and forth, and the stylist was embarrassed that their computer system apparently had no record of my transactions. I was arguing that I didn't have a running tab with the salon, that this was ridiculous. We both stood our ground, and the woman said she'd send me to small claims court, and I said "Fine. See you there!" and then the lady went back to her office and managed to find her financial records that showed that, yes, I had, in fact, paid my bill, and how sorry she was for the misunderstanding, and she wanted a hug to make things better. I was loathe to do so in the wake of the confrontation, but did so, while inwardly grossed out because the woman smelled like patchouli, one of my least-favorite scents in the world. Then I woke up.

Hello? Daylight Savings?

Man, I really wish they'd shift the Daylight Savings Time date back to what it was before GW Bush set it for; it sucks to have everything so dark in the morning. It makes it hard to get the boys up and at'em.

I had weird dreams last night, like stuff with a ventriloquist's dummy (never a good sign in a dream, right? Sheesh) I can only remember some of it, but it was like being in the basement of this place with this guy with a dummy, and somebody walked up and muttered to me "You know, the DUMMY is the one doing the thinking, here, not the GUY." And then when the guy was talking to me, I was wondering that, and was keeping an eye on the creepy dummy.

Had some other weird dream that flowed from that one, but I forget what it was, now.

Gonna pick up some pumpkins today for the boys and me to carve. They're stoked about that.

Running, Man

I had funky dreams last night, but fortunately for you, Gentle Reader, I've forgotten them (since there's nothing less meaningful than recounting one's dreams to a stranger). But at the time, it was at least entertaining, and I'd remembered them when I first woke up, but have since forgotten them, naturally.

This is Chicago Marathon weekend, so Exene is focused on that, of course. She asked if I could cover with the boys, and I was only too happy to oblige with that, since I love any time with the boys, and they were stoked, too, psyched about "Daddy Weekend." I just told Exene that I wanted to be sure to get equivalent weekend day swappage at some point. Have to keep a keen eye on that, because she's more inclined to take than give, and if I don't keep tabs on that, I end up getting screwed over. But she's been reasonably good about reciprocity on that stuff, and she knows I'm doing her a big favor by minding the boys so she can indulge her hobby heedlessly, so there you have it. Hopefully the weather'll be good this weekend, so I can get the boys out and about.

Found a dollar coin yesterday on my bike ride to work. Woo hoo!

Onward

Just did the laundry this morning; I always try to get it done in the early morning hours, because it's cooler out, and nobody else is (usually) up, so I'm not competing with everybody else for the machines.

I've been having odd and complicated/strange/disturbing dreams of late. Like one had me in this Colonial home that had been on-site of some Revolutionary War battle, and there were these Gypsy-like folks living there, now, and they were letting people tour the house, but there was a very palpable sensation of haunting about the place, this sense of something else being there. Ghosts and what-not. The vibe was very clear and, since the place was close to a battlefield, there was plenty of emotional weight about the area. Trippy dream.

It can't rain all the time...

It rained all last night. Distant thunder, softly pattering rain. Cool temperatures, so it was good sleeping weather, at least, although I slept fitfully last night, woke around 1 and around 2 for no apparent reason. Lots of odd dreams -- inside a convoluted El station (I think I've dreamed about this train station before, honestly -- this massive, labyrinthine train El station I have to wend my way through); the boys and I in this mall that had this neon-banked walk-through video game that had this neon mummy that would chase you quasi-comically as you ran down the corridors, bouncing and bounding on these barricades to escape. B2 and I were on this one, and he stumbled at one point, and I said to the mummy we had to do it over. The dream had it first that it was a digital neon mummy, but then I saw that it was an actor playing that role, and while he was like "Okay" I could tell he was tired, didn't want to have to run through the corridor again, so I felt sorry for him, doing this thankless gig. And then I dreamed I was at a lackluster party, and I suggested we do improv to liven things up, but I insisted that only people who knew how to improv participate, so a half-dozen of us (including an unaccountably youthful Bill Murray) wrangled this improv performance in the midst of the party, which slyly subverted the languid party and livened things up, although then more people arrived to the party, not realizing that we were doing improv, which made the party more like this massive performance art piece, weirdly enough. Trippy dream(s) last night.

I was a little down last night, but I think it was mostly just me being tired. I usually cheer up when I've had some sleep, although I don't like that my sleep was interrupted last night, for whatever reason.

*KOFF KOFF KOFF*

Finally got a cold. I was wondering if I'd be able to make it through the winter season without one, but no dice. Nothing too major, fortunately, but it's still irritating, and is lounging in my lungs, wearing me out. I just need some rest.

Had odd dreams last night; one had me walking in at some employer and talking up my good points with an employee there, a kind of ad hoc interview. I'm sure that's just some part of my brain trying to deal with the logistics of this bad economy.

It's supposed to be supercold in the city today. The high is only going to be 23 degrees. Brrr. I lost one of my superwarm polartec gloves. Not sure where the stinker went. Hate that.

I have to craft a new query letter for the next book that's ready to go out the door this month. Query letters are the worst; everything hinges on those handful of words. So much depends on so little.

Sonday

Man, I woke up around 1:30 a.m., and couldn't go back to sleep for a bit. Just worrying about stuff. I took a shower and went back to bed, and eventually conked out and had odd dreams. One had this group of WWII-era OSS types, kind of like the A Team set to WWII, on these missions. Very "Guns of Navarone" in scope and presentation in my brain. That's "Guns of Navarone," NOT "Force 10 from Navarone," mind you!

I've got the boys today. They were very glad. Exene dropped them off with me a few hours earlier yesterday, said the boys were "clamoring" for me, so I took'em, and we watched episodes of "Samurai Jack" and I read stories to'em. We had a good time.

Argh!

Slow commute yesterday. Drives me bananas! Get me where I'm going! Argh!

I still keep waking up a bit too early (and going to bed a bit too late). Also Argh!

The radiators are kicking into gear. I always love that, their rattle and clatter and the wonderful warmth they bring.

I had a lot of odd dreams last night, although I remember only bits of them. Sometimes my dreams unfold in a documentary style, like I'm watching a movie. This one was about an intentional community for the rich somewhere, living in these Green eco-mansions, while the narrator was talking about the community. And I was trying to read some article about it, while these preppy brats were trying to take the magazine from me (which turned out to be SCIENTIFIC AMERICAN except printed on very high quality paper, very thick -- to the extent that I was musing while reading it "Is this a special issue or something? Must cost a fortune to produce this.") There was some section about composting, and some eco-wags had written a message like "Over here, Grandmother!" in some kind of stuff that drew honeybees, because that message was written in bees on the ground! That was particularly dream-weird, had me almost waking up from my dream. Then, at some point, I was in a cavernous building like McCormick Place and was talking with Obama, trying to set him straight, saying he needed to take moves from LBJ's political playbook and really play some political hardball if he had a hope of getting things done. He didn't appear to be listening, but I pressed on, at least until Michelle Obama turned up and some staffers of his. Then I just went my own way. That's about all I remember.

Circadian, Cyclopean, Chthonic

My internal chronometer got me up right at 5:00. I haven't needed an alarm clock in at least a decade. Kinda funny, how circadian rhythms work like that. I just wake up instantly.

Had a dreadful dream about giant centipedes -- like those spindly-legged ones, only these were as big as my hand, with legs about as thick as pencils. They were in Grant Park, skulking about. I kept squishing them, but they kept appearing. Yucko! Frickin' giant centipedes! *SQUISH*

I've been reading Peter Straub's "Ghost Story," although it's been slow-going for me. Something about his style of writing, it's just heavy, ponderous. I mean, a 23-page prologue, for god's sake. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm about 123 pages into it, and I'm still not particularly into it, so I feel like he's failed me as a writer (I don't think I've failed him as a reader because I've persisted, despite not being moved by the story or the characters). I've tried to read Straub before, and there's just something about the way he writes that drags on me. I'm reading it because it's been touted as an exemplary ghost story (I remember the dreadful movie made from it), so it's sort of a reconnaissance read for me.

Hurly-Burly

I'm most definitely a stress-puker. I had an ulcer in late 1998, and maybe it didn't ever fully go away, not sure. But I've found that I get reflux really bad if I'm stressed, and I can totally go from normal to pukelicious when stressed. I really try not to internalize stress, really, really try to roll with things, but sometimes when confronted with something I can't roll with, the puke button gets hit and voila. Had that happen last night in a lengthy (yet coldly undramatic) confrontation with Exene. I really, really hope she gets the job she's interviewing for today (this is the third interview). Then I can finally move on. I can't believe the metric tonnage of emotional pain I soaked up over the years with her. It didn't break me, but sheesh. My stomach, however, is definitely my weak point. I've been fine for months and months, and we get in an argument last night (she confronted me about the Chore Chart, and away we flew) and it was hurlin' time (not a lot), and then I had reflux all night and had to sleep sitting up. I keep worrying about that with my own job hunting looming, thinking "PLEASE let me be able to manage interview stress without getting hurly."


I'm gonna watch the Brazil v. Portugal game this morning and then Spain's game against Chile later today, and just chill out in general. I'm generally a cool customer, but I'm passionate, emotional, and very sensitive, and I just soak up bad vibes like a sponge -- strongly empathic. That's good and bad. I'll work out extra-long tonight to help get at stress via cardio.

I had a dream last night that I was running. Running and running, chasing two people down in my childhood neighborhood. I couldn't fathom how I was losing the race, and just poured on the energy, to the extent that my dream-brain was like "You hate jogging; WTF??" I woke up before I reached my destination, kind of annoyed, as I was hauling ass in my dream, my eyes fixated on the sidewalk shooting by in my downward field of vision, my feet pounding. And, no, I honestly can't fully remember who I was chasing. It wasn't Exene, I know that for sure. There might've been a zombie apocalypse element to the dream, too.

Sleepy

I'm sleepy. Woke up too early. *yawn*

Up too late watching the hockey game. I dreamed about being at a bar, thirsty, and everything I drank didn't help. I had trouble ordering -- my brain was unable to articulate "PBR" so I muttered "Newcastle" in my dream, and even that didn't help.

So I woke up around 4ish and then got some water. It was very foggy outside. I didn't take any pictures of it.

B1 has two more soccer games left and then he's done. Maybe two more weeks of school, and he's done with that, too.

I took the boys to the zoo yesterday. They had a great time there, and it wasn't too crowded, as it had stormed most of the day, and so the usual Memorial Day crowds were comparatively slight, which made it more fun for the boys, in terms of getting to see the exhibits without dealing with lots of foot traffic, etc.

Drink: Fair & Balanced

I had a dream last night where I invented a cocktail called a "Fair & Balanced" -- in mockery of Fox News and company. In the dream, I was talking with some mainstream journalists, and we were mocking how crappy Fox News was, and I came up with the Fair & Balanced as a cocktail in mockery of them, which the journalists began guzzling. While I'm pleased that my twisted brain comes up with drink recipes in its sleep, unfortunately, I can't remember the whole recipe!

Fair & Balanced

Purple Kool-Aid
Seven-Up
1 shot of vodka
1 shot of Chambord
3 dashes of bitters

Served in a Collins glass, over plenty of ice.

The whole point of it was that it was an unfair and unbalanced cocktail, but I can't remember what made it so.

Dream: Bundy? No, Danson

I woke up too early, then went back to sleep, had a bad dream/nightmare for my troubles! Thanks, Brain! I dreamed I was in a house I used to own, and was talking to my folks on the phone, when I became aware of this presence, this sense of somebody in the house who ought not to be. This while I was in the basement. So, I'm hunting around for something to use as a weapon, and keep finding useless toy weapons -- green Colt .45 squirtgun? No good. Black Smith & Wesson .45 Peacemaker cap gun? No good. A starter pistol? No good. Colt Navy replica revolver? No good. I peek at the stairs and see this guy's feet, moving very quietly, realllll sneaky-like. So, I hang up on my folks (not wanting them to worry and/or give away my position) and I draw back the hammer on the replica pistol, which makes a nice authentic-seeming click, even though I'm desperate to find an actual weapon. The guy doesn't hear it, keeps going down the steps. He has a rifle. He's a middle-aged guy with a kind of hair helmet ala Ted Danson. He doesn't see me, as I'm crouched behind some boxes. I find a machete. Finally! A weapon. I have the cap pistol in one hand, and the machete in the other, am bracing for this psycho to find me.

He sees me at last, once he's down in the room, and I brandish the cap pistol and blaze away at him, which startles him, and he ducks, firing his rifle, which thankfully misses me. Then I throw the pistol at him, and charge him with the machete. I go to swing at him but the rifle deflects the blow, and the guy runs back upstairs, leaving me in the basement.

Then I woke up.

Weather or not

Pretty autumn day, great weather, although very windy, as it usually is in Chicago this time of year. But all of the sun made it nice.

I'm a bit sleep-deprived. Had a surreal dream last night where I had acquired a Sly & the Family Stone picture holder, one of those multiple-frame holders, and this one was festooned with silver glitter and other brightness, and had pictures of Sly featured. I remember in the dream thinking that was pretty great, touting it as the funkiest frame, ever. And it came with a bonus Sly lapel pin.

What a goofy dream...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QBIA7hZE0l0