THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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First of all....why? Why why did I have a dream about Nate? (I'd like to say "I had a dream that Nate was in", but no, it was squarely about Nate) Well, I've thought about it and the only answer I have is that he reminds me of some girls I knew in public school. That sounds stupid, but...it's true. When I was in public school I knew these girls who were really cool. The public school definition of cool, anyway. And because I was young and stupid, I really wanted them to like me. I pretended I didn't give a flying fig what they thought, but I really did want their approval. Lots of times I see notes from people around here (don't anyone get uppity with me, please) that seem like they're really aimed at getting Nate's (and uh, sometimes RC's) approval. It reminds me of the way I was in public school with those girls. I suspect that's what my dream was about. I dreamed I was in this mall, and I saw Nate in a bookstore. Don't ask me how I knew it was him, cuz I don't even know what he looks like. I just know he had a dark blue tee-shirt on, and he was kinda short. I think he worked in the bookstore. So I walk over and I say "Hi." I don't smile. I just say hi, and blink at him. and he says "Hi." I don't remember at all what he sounded like. and I say "Don't I know you?" still no smile. Normally when I talk to Anyone, I smile. Do you know why I'm not smiling here? Cuz I'm trying to be cool. he says: "I don't know." I think he's kinda looking Over my head, not At me. "Aren't you from that place? That place I can't pronounce? On the net." I say. "Oh. Yeah. Who are you?" blink. "Gee." I remember I almost gave him my real name, but I realized it wouldn't mean anything to him, and it made me feel like I had a little bit more power over the situation if he didn't know what my friends call me. Anyway, after that I don't remember anymore conversation, but I do remember the feeling that we had Nothing else to say to each other besides "hi", and I felt kinda stupid for walking over to him in the first place. I really can't think of a witty comment to end on, as the dream was a bit depressing. Remembering how stupid and hypocritical I was when I was a little younger makes me want to slap myself, and I wonder if I would be that way again. I don't feel that I seek Nate's approval, but things are a little different in netland. I don't operate the same ON-line, as I do OFF, and my feelings don't react to the same things either. The dream just made me wonder about myself. |
Good I'm glad someone else has noticed. I come here for entertainment. I say what I feel at the time, ya don't like it tough! When I'm at work dealing with patients and their families I have to portray a "type" of professional. Much of the time I must "size up" the family dynamics, their current emotional state and adjust my tone and message into something they can "swallow". All that makes for a long stressfull day. So when I come here I'm looking for a laugh and many times I get it from the "serious" postings of those who know it all.....well shit I know what my mood is gonna be today, good thing vacation is in 4 days. |
happy vaca, I'll be dreaming of you... |
Gaining approval over the internet, how do you do that? Always agreeing? Changing your writing style to impress? You can't really know someone unless it goes past the board thing. Nate. First time I saw him, he was necking with a babysitter. The second time, I wanted the house really clean before this group of people showed up (including Nate) and ended up in the hospital because of a reaction to the chemicals. There are rumors that he will make an appearance in September. R.C. dissappeared shortly after I arrived on the board. |
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2. i'm 5'10" i don't see where this reputation came from. i'm really just an asshole. originally just a drunk asshole, however since my involvement here is now from work, i am rarely drunk anymore. anyway, the point is: I, like the popular sect in highschool, am actually just a lost soul hiding behind a facade built by others. and i wasn't necking with the babysitter. |
I don't know what the fuck that means. Oh, there were probably some acceptance issues...I visited the treehouse, I think, but it was in New York somewhere. |
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Have you ever heard that shit? its usually a fucking riot. |
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http://www.delphi.com/netdreams/messages are far too precious not to pass along. |
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Nate - uh, no offense to y'all around here, but considering how drug-and-alcohol happy most of the posters around here are, a drunken whichamacallit like yourself must seem like a demi-god to the rest of them. Not that I think you're a drunken whatsoever. I can't really tell the difference between Drunk Nate and Sober Nate. Except for that one time when I think you were drunk and you reminded me of an ex-boyfriend and scared the CRAP out of me. |
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this thing, that is: * anyone know? I suppose some folks change their arguments when conversing with R.C. but I figure that some of it might be insight from considering someone else's Radical viewpoint. Hope she comes back soon, this mess o' honkies could use that perspective. |
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You rock. (and i'm not just saying that because i'm trying to gain your approval.) Love, Sarah |
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Publisher's Clearinghouse sends me suggestive mail. (they suggest that I buy) |
yeah, but at least once a month i am UNQUESTIONABLY REVEALED as the $11,000,000.00 WINNER. so there. |
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Sem - I assumed that was Mr Sorabji updating the threads with new notes since he said something about deleting the search page or something elsewhere. I may be wrong. |
don't diss Starboy! (*) he's my new favorite sorabji character. (of course starboy could also be a girl, or a monkey, but hey, I like it) Viva * ! |
May not mean anything, but that's my little clue in the puzzle. |
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especially if he wakes you up at quarter to seven every morning by shoving his asterisk right in your face. |
========D * * * * * * * O |
All that happened in the dream was that we went to a restaurant, where the waiter was really rude to Gee, and we all yelled at him. Then we went to a department store, where we were trying on shoes. Gee had really big feet (other than that, I didn't get a look at what she looked like, other than she seemed to be kind of short and had straight hair). There was a hole in the floor, where you could slide through a tunnel to other parts of the mall, but it was a really narrow hole and we were looking at it thinking there was no way we were going to be able to fit in it. A lady was already half-way inside it and had gotten stuck, so we sat down on the floor and were trying to pull her out. (Wow...what would Freud say about that one? ;) ) Then there was this weird thing about a nun telling me that if I reach a certain level of spirituality, I'll be able to smell burning gold. THis is supposedly what good people who go astray smell like. And that really freaked me out, and I told her I didn't want to be good if I'd have to smell something like that. O-kay.... |
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i had a dream last night that i got fired from my job. i was bummed out, but not surprised. the night before i had a dream that i married my friend david for no reason at all. after we signed the paperwork, i told him i wanted a ring, and we said, pffft you don't need a ring. so of course i immediately realized i had married a weenie. later i got a phone call from my exboyfriend, who in reality and in my dream, is now living either on the mainland or perhaps in italy, i really wouldn't know. anyway, he said, so now that we're married, how are we going to work this out? should i move back to hawaii or are you moving here? and i was like, oh shit, i forgot i was married to him, and now i'm married to david, and fuck, i don't want to be married to either of these weenies. very vivid dreams lately. |
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definitely a weenie. |
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Waffles, your destiny to to be that first guy to drop the pants. You have been choosen by the most high to rise to every party occasion. You shall be the mover and the shaker. You shall be the Jacker of Off. The one who turns every party he touches into a JACK OFF PARTY. GO FORTH WAFFLES. YOU HAVE A DUTY TO FUFILL. |
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$*@!#$^&#*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry, i hurt reeeeeel bad today....... |
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you should feel better in 20 minutes. |
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they do smell foul. (-) they make your urine bright yellow. (++) they restore to your body the B vitamins leached in the alcohol metabolization process, which is why you lack energy. (+) |
ever see that kids in the hall skit when grandpa makes a poop........... by the way those guys are back on tour, thinking of catching them |
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i bowl a shitty game... |
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what do you think the etiquette is on that? if you're going to practice advanced levels of your cocktease routine for some guy you're not going to fuck, should you let him jack off in front of you or can you tell him to wait until you're in the shower? |
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..........is this the rich guy who flew you out to (somewhere) to see him.........is he as lame as you indicate, i just don't understand how this guy can put up with your or anyone's else cockteasing, i'd throw you right outta there, but i guess this dumbfuck asked for it |
I thought about sex from 8:00 to 9:15 a.m. today. at home I've been looking at internet porn. fucking just seems like a really, really good idea. I thought, so this is what it's like to be a guy. |
aspirin, lots of water,and one bloody mary extra spicy. |
it is so fun. so fun. I want to be a peep show dancer. they'd all be behind glass. that would be the best. I told him I needed to practice. he was pretty nice about it. |
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I haven't one, though. |
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Lovely Gee: yes, I believe you were wearing jeans. AND, if I recall, you were *trying on* the pair of tan sneakers...they were not part of your regular ensemble. I'm pretty sure you were wearing a sweatshirt, though. I have to work on my psychic abilities a little more. |
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He was my favorite teacher. I'm glad he's still teaching at my old public school. His students are lucky. |
I dreamed that she mailed me some stuff. As soon as I saw it in my mailbox I knew it was from her, but I also thought: "How the heck did she get my address?" She sent me a book, a letter, and something else that I can't remember what it was, but I have rason to believe it may have been an audio tape. The weird thing was that she sent each item seperately, and nothing was packaged. Even the letter was just a bunch of notebook paper stapled together with no envelope. The book was thick and hardcover, I remember that. I wonder what that means. And the letter was written in big, blue-inked, hand writing. Lots of swirly letters and big loops on the "P"s and "g"s. She had a little message, which I don't remember, and then proceeded to write out the lyrics to a song, which was all basically a "oh baby I love you yeah baby baby ooo baby" sort of thing. Oh wait, I think the letter came to be in a plastic baggie. Like the kind you'd put a sandwich in. Isn't that weird? I wonder about the meaning of it all. |
I did not dream about you last night. Instead, I dreamed about a crazy man who followed me home, and my father and I had to hit him over the head with a stew pot and drag his body out into the field near our house in order to get rid of him. |
Really liked the Mule and Reelfoot, Rhiannon. You are not alone. Good stuff. Reminded me of this Mpls band, Housebreaker. I will add a couple of their tunes to the Trash tape. |
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I dreamt that he worked in a shack outside of town as a mechanic, and that a few years ago, my uncle had shared that shack with him to use as an office for his graphic design business, and that I had worked as a secretary for my uncle. So now I was working at a temp job, and I decided to go see Mr. Long (whose first name is Preston, which was how he was known in the dream) on my lunch break. I didn't think he would remember me, and I was very shy about going up to see him.....I don't remember if he did remember me or not, but we started talking in the parking lot. I asked him, as an ice-breaker, if he was working on any new music, and he said yes. I don't know what else we talked about, but he was quite pleasant. Wandering all around the shack were sheep ready to be shorn. Some were painted green for some reason. There was a sheep-shearing party going on, and people kept interrupting us to ask him questions about the sheep, which was irritating him. So we got up (he had been sitting in a rocking chair on the grass / I had been leaning on my car) and he took me to this area that was like an Army obstacle course....all these machine guns had been strung together. He sat down in the middle of them all, and I asked "isn't that live ammo?" but he didn't move. Instead, he showed me these old coins he had found. They had been minted at different times during WWII, and they each had different maps of Europe on one side. I pointed out to him the changing borders of Austria. Italy looked very strange and fat. This meant something, which I forget. Then I realized I had been gone from work for over an hour...past my lunch break....so I reluctantly got up to leave. I started to formulate an excuse to give my employer -- I had gone to a restaurant for lunch and there had been a fire in the parking lot. He walked me back to my car, and we started talking about how hellish our high school was -- apparently we had gone to school together....he had dropped out years ago and had decided to go back as an adult to get his diploma, and he had been in my class -- until we reached my car. I had the feeling that he didn't want me to leave. He told me to hold on, and he went inside the shack, and I had the feeling he was getting the keys to his truck because he wanted me to go somewhere with him and forget about work. Then I woke up, which was a shame, because I wanted to see where we were going to go. |
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People began starting their posts with about 5 of their favorite words in a row. Then people started writing complex sentences or phrases with big words. Then people started writing a sentence in another language. All this was like a preface to whatever people wanted to say -- it had nothing to do with the actual topic. I was going to say something in Italian, and I was trying to come up with something grammatically correct. I think I finally settled on "lasciate ogni speranza, vuoi ch'entrate" (which is, "abandon all hope, ye who enter here"). But that's in old Italian, and I couldn't remember if it was "lasciati" or "lasciate" and I didn't want to make a mistake. Before that I had a dream in which I was an assassin running around an art museum with a water gun filled with poison. I shot this one guy and then kissed him for about 15 minutes until he died. I only stopped kissing him when I realized he'd soon be growing cold and I didn't want to feel that happen under my mouth. O-kay..... |
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OK. That wasn't a dream. |
Not that I would or anything. I'm too lazy. |
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They followed up with Prokofiev's Violin concerto #1 in D major. I'm not a great fan of violin concertos, and this one is particularly boring, but the soloist was great. He played an encore afterwards that was technically incredible with some lightening fast left hand pittsacato (sp?) that was really amazing. (After walking around the neighborhood after the performance we ran into the soloist as he was exiting the performance hall. My sister got to say, "Great performance" to him in Russian.) They ended up with Rachmaninoff's Symphonic Dances, Op 45. I liked the 2nd movement best, but it was all around great. The trombone section almost got a standing ovation, and they deserved it. (I'm a bass trombone player myself, so I might be a bit biased...) Anyway, I went to the art museum too. The oriental wing was the best part, IMHO, although the collection of impressionist art was impressive. |
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(Acutally/once of my secret fantasies is to get rich enuf to build a grown-up treehouse -- complete w/plumbing & a kitchen & speakers in every room & everythang. I saw one in Architectural Digest years ago & nearly feinted from jealousy.) WHAT have I been missing here? |
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But Lawanda didn't have sex with Nate in my dream. (Who dreamed that?) I like treehouses too. |
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it was great / funny / sad. the great part was that it happened at all with this married guy I have a crush on. the funny part was when he told me, "this is my favorite kind of pie." the sad part was later when he being mean and told me sarcastically, "when I made that noise at the end, it meant I really love you." |
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but i will give the B12 a go.....i think i dream i just don't remember.... |
He'll spend at least 6 months smoking pot and raving about world domination, coming up with outlandish plans for his conquest, in between fits of maniacal giggling. At least, that's what my satanism/libertinism/fascinated with evil/etc friends do. It's really entertaining... I have a couple of friends who do that regularly. (of course, I would never indulge in such a frivolous pastime myself ;) |
is it stalking if you just walk around downtown near their building when you know it's their lunch hour? I so wanted to see my friend I dreamed about last night. not that I wanted to call him and see if he could meet me, I wanted it to appear completely accidental. I had planned to tell him I dreamed about him last night. not "you were in my dream last night." but "I dreamed about you last night." |
recently I've been feeling judgmental about others' pot use. like, I found out that the endodontist who wants to set me up with his son smokes pot. and now I'm way more interested in going to his party. (I also found out he rented the WHOLE FUCKING SPACE NEEDLE, not just some suites. duh. the space needle doesn't have suites.) but I'm also judgmental the other way around, too. I'm not that interested in hanging out with total potheads, even though I used to be one too. I can't even figure out what's wrong with it. maybe I just want to create another barrier between me and potential friends. another thing wrong with everyone else. |
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my other plan is falling through, so I really am thinking about going. if I do, I'll see if I can get you and yours invites. |
I do that. Walking/hanging around somewhere where my victem Might appear. Tell them that I dreamed about them. Especially if it's a sexual dream and then they think they're special. |
I need to come up with a new sorabji persona, anyway. kym is making cyst redundant. I'm glad. |
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he's the one person I've bought a christmas gift for. because of someone here, I've forgotten who. lucy? sarah? someone once posted a link to the gloomcookie comics. I bought him the first two. long ago I used to post my college's unix bulletin board as "antigone," but I decided that was way too noble a name for me. "grendel" was not only too pretentious but already taken. I don't know why. because it's gross. |
I love 'em. & thanx for reminding me... gotta go get the new one.. it should be out this month. |
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agatha - handjob guy said he wants to come to the space needle as well. he said it was mentioned in some old seinfeld episode. kramer says he wants to be in the space needle on new year's eve 1999 and he wonders how long ago it was rented out and for how much. I still need the endodontist's son's email address, though. the endodontist is a technophobe and has no idea what it is, and his wife is out of town. now that my other plan has fallen through, I need to try to secure this invitation. I need to find a digital image of me that's cute but not too slutty. after I charm him, I will tell him that the only reservation I have about going is for years I've had plans with these really good friends of mine in olympia that I would spend new year's eve 1999 with them. |
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last night while I was out our rock star friend called me twice to ask me if I wanted a part in the harvey danger christmas video, which was mostly filmed today. oh well. I think my life would be more interesting if I lived in seattle. that's probably reason enough to go. |
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When we were there the Musuem guy showed us this frog. He said that the frog had more blood in it than any other living creature. A few minutes later he left the room and everying crowded around the table to look at the frog. One person picked it up and said "This would really help us with our assignment." and started to rub the frog's head. I said "No!" really loudly and he put the frog down. I said "Don't do that!" and I tried to pick the frog up so that I could put it back in it's habitat and it jumped away from me to the floor across the room, and like a bunch of children, my class chased after it trying to grab it. I tried to turn the lights out so they couldn't see it but when I did, I noticed the light from the overhead projector was still lighting the room so I turned the switch back on and thought I should go try to grab the frog. But by that time the other students had already caught him and were kneeling in the middle of the room in a little circle and I could see a really Dark puddle of blood spreading out from between their feet. It was very Very disturbing. I have a problem with blood. It makes me very nervous. (for some reason, I exclude my period from this) |
It was wierd. |
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It was a very hazy dream. All I remember was Nate was in a bookstore. He had dark hair and was wearing a navy blue short-sleeved shirt...not so much a t-shirt, but kind of like one of those old alligator shirts. I saw him from behind, as he was walking away from me. That was the whole dream -- Nate walking away from me in a bookstore. But in the dream I *knew* he was Nate and not some other guy. Then I had a dream about that guy whose shoulders I adore. In the dream he was really sick and grumpy and I had to spoon-feed him soup. That's all I remember. |
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When i was little and obsessed with Tetris, I used to see Tetris blocks in everything I looked at. It used to drive me crazy. I sympathize. |
I've never seen a picture of Nate. Not unless that naked guy really was him. In my dream he didn't really have any features, he was just a guy. a short guy. in a dark blue tee-shirt. |
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I remember being about 12 and visiting my cousins in Las Vegas in the summer. This was before Wet and Wild and all the other kid-friendly places were up and running, so all us kids could do all day was go swimming and play Nintendo. My brother and cousin Michael would always hog the Nintendo, and it's no fun swimming by yourself, so I would play Tetris on the Gameboy while waiting for them to let me have a turn playing River City Ransom or whatever we played back then. I would end up playing for hours. I was good at it, too...much better than my brother and cousin, and that always made me feel superior to them. But, yes, a consequence to playing so much was seeing the blocks everywhere, even when my eyes were closed. My brother claimed he never played Tetris because he didn't want to be kept awake by thinking about it...not because he was bad at it. Ha! |
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I think you're right...you have to pay such attention to the visual patterns of the blocks to the exclusion of everything else around you because the game happens so fast...so that must do something to your mental processes afterwards. Like an afterimage, sort of, except that it's not so much in your visual perception unit but deeper...into your processing unit or something. I wonder what cognitive psychologists would have to say about this. I always thought of it as getting in a brain groove. |
And what if Nate is somehow stuck inthat world, and is trying to communicate to us through our dreams? What if nate has become. . .The Nibbler?? (gasp of horror) |
The Nibbler wouldn't happen to look like a cross between a large ape-like human and a rabbit, would he? |
sometimes he looks like a little clown. |
nate is busy moving into his new home. santa is satan spelled inside out. the nibbler is gnawing at the bones of your fragile world. my head is up my ass and it's fucking up the flow of shit that should be streaming out of my mouth right now. wake me up if you have any more questions. i've got an answer for everything. actually, fuck that. i'm going back to the bar to drink my delusions into reality. good luck with all that other stuff. |
The Tetris thing: this sounds weird, but I used to do the same thing with some hash browns they served us one year at camp. They were the small block shaped kind. I used to close my eyes and see them. I felt like I could feel them in my throat all the time. I still feel that way when I think about them. Isn't that Weird?? |
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don't talk to me! |
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i wouldn't do that in real life. i'm much more of a subtle asshole in the real world. |
I had a dream about Sarah a while ago. I didn't want to share it because it...was not like the dream I had about Nate. I will only mention that she was playing with a pink feathered boa. |
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I remember a big curtin. and I asked him if he remembered my name (he should know it, he's seen my library card) and he told me that it wasn't his job to remember people's names. I wanted to tell him about it, but I didn't get to speak to him today. I saw him walking in, though. He's very pretty. |
it hit me in the head in sorta of a slow mo fashion it didn't hurt we then went on to play one of those racing games you get in side by side and the car shakes when you run off the road |
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apologies in advance if i end up in a "dirty" dream. it can be embarassing. whenever you're having sex in a dream, look around for a mid-sized Dief (Dieffenbachia.) I tend to enter dreams as a house plant at first, to avoid embarassment. patrick, btw, is one kinky motherfucker. |
and thanks, i take that as a compliment and no , there was no boa involved, although when the wife breaks out her leaopard print boa, it's gonna be one of those nights....those nights the "fern" usually comes around.... |
but really, i'm just making notes for the book. |
It was all so pathetic... until Salma Hayek came 'round from the river in back of the house in a wet t-shirt & bikini bottoms.... In the dream/I was Nate's cat (the big furry one -- Prose I think she's called...?) lounging on the front porch swing/taking it all in w/an air of nonchalance. ................................................ I am certain this dream was the result of doing 2 Cuervo shots at my local watering hole (my regular bartender - who has strict instructions from me never to let anyone buy me shots -was off tonite. I only do shots on my birthday during a Leap Year & then only Herradura/but this place doesn't stock it.) Then I came home/ate some leftover Panang chicken that I'd orered at work earlier tonite/& fell asleep while reading in bed. (The book was 'Power For Living'/that book you can get from free by calling the 800 # in those commercials.) But I don't think there was any literary influence behind the dream. I never, ever dream of myself as an animal. What cd it possibly mean? And Nate wd never do anything as plebian as mow his lawn -- he'd let if go to seed w/lots of clover & wildflowers & waist-high grass to roll around in. Or he'd hire someone to mow it. And nobody wears seersucker anymore. So folks... pls. interpret this dream for me. What was it's significance? Anyway/it's started raining again & sleeping late on a rainy Saturday is one of my favorite pastimes in life. I'm going back to bed & see if I can pick up the dream where I left off. |
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I don't really believe that YOUR dreams can be explained by anyone but you, but sometimes I go to that site to get a little direction for a confusing dream. I also like to ask my friend Tommy, because he always has an explanation for me. He's the smartest guy I know. I'll tell him your dream and repeat his comments. |
The seersucker is what's really troubling me... |
The rest of my property is au natural. redwoods and acacia, oak, a nice running stream full of boulders and ferns (non-psychic.) and no, no seersucker. i'm not sure i even know what that is. |
or so they say. |
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~ You owe me cookies. Usually, dreaming as an animal means you are feeling disconnected. In this case, it may mean she's worried about the loss of some sort of relationship, possibly about losing "Nate" to some other person (woman) that she thinks (fears) is more attractive. Potential feelings of physical inadequacy when compared to muscled Nate, and Ms. Sexy person. Beautiful people belong together, etc... Worried about Nate being annoyed with her for her seeming passivity in the face of things that need to be done. She is placidly on the porch, while he is working at something. Of course, it could all be tequila ramblings. (LOL) I'm dreaming of cookies. (nod) |
I suspect is was just the usual mental/ psychological housekeeping. None of my dreams ever make sense. I wish they had some deep psychological meaning behind them -- it wd certainly make it easier to figure out one's shit. But I don't even remember 95% of my dreams. Earlier that day/I'd read that Nate had bought a house. And I'd seen a photo of Salma Hayek in her stripper outfit from "Dogma". The Cuervo was prolly responsible for connecting the 2. And the Swoon site turned up No Matches for seersucker. |
Imagine the kind of shorts Beck wd be wearing if he came into a 7-11 to buy beer at 2:00 a.m. on a Sunday nite. That's what seersucker looks like. Just a really ugly, suburban fabric that Dad's wore when they mowed the lawn on weekends. My Dad had a pr. of shorts like the one's Nate had on in the dream. But I haven't seen anyone -- or even thought abt -- seersucker in at least 20 years. I'm surprised I even remember how to spell it. |
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..."HERE I AM !!!!!!!.........ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE......." ....getting louder and louder as our luxury, stereo equiped, liquor loaded golf cart approaches...... |
Golf jokes @ Sorabji.com! |
c'mon, you know you'd love to hang out the back out of luxury golf cart sippin margarita's watchin us make asses outta ourselves |
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But you have to play at that ultra-snooty course on L.I. -- what is it, the Shinnecock Club? Then I'll go! And laugh my ass off. |
Count me in and I will bring some good Canadian beer. |
Or we can make one while we're their, I can improvise. |
i'll donate the ugly hawaiian shirts. |
But if you've got some old Don Ho joints from back-in-the-day, we'll take 'em. |
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i was in this giant mall somewhere. most of the time i was getting chased or laid. maybe chased because i was getting laid, or getting laid in between getting chased. anyway, a lot of running through the mall and fucking in any hidey spot i could find. for some reason most of my dreams follow this basic plot. anyway, at one point i was chilling in the mens section of some large department store (neither fucking nor being chased, as it would be.) that's when i saw swine. i don't recall much detail except that he was wearing a pair of blue men's slacks with the legs rolled inward to bring the cuff up to just below his knee. of course, i started making fun of him. he told me to shut up, he was working. apparently he had this gig where he wore this other guy's pants for awhile, to "break them in." then in walks this tall black guy with a mess of long braids, a trench coat and a black t-shirt that identified some band i'd heard of and immediately caused me to identify him as the bass player for said band. i said "oh shit, isn't that...?" and swine said "yeah, hold on." and then walks over to the guy and they talk for a bit. swine gives him the pants he's wearing, grabs another pair off the rack. and then, shortly after swine comes back and the guy leaves, i spot an agent for whatever big evil organization was chasing me around and have to take off running. that's all i remember. |
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But the business of Nate getting chased & laid rings quite true. 'Tis the subplot of his life. (BTW, was the musician Bootsy Collins?) |
i don't think it was anyone real, but just someone i recognized as real as part of the parameters of the dream. |
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I used to have a red-violet seersucker baby-doll dress. god, I wonder whatever happened to that. I lose so many clothes. one time I saw a cardigan I lost on a friend when I dropped in on her at work. "hey, that's my cardigan!" "damn. I never wear this if I know you're coming over." "you stole my shirt!" "listen, I can't wear these pants with anything else!" I let her keep it. tonight the boy said nice things to me. he said I have great taste in clothes and shoes, that I always look nice. he told me he even liked my scarf. I told him it was irish, and he looked up the brand name in a book about ireland. foxford woolen mills, from the western part of the island. here's the url to a page with a photo of a seersucker print: http://www.easystreetantiques.com/fabr.html seersucker prints are a little unusual, I think. here are some closeups of solid seersuckers: http://www.baltazor.com/seersucker.html |
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except for my really smart friend who won't even call sportscoats "blazers" unless they have brass buttons. |
p.s. Did you hear about the man with five peckers? His pants fit like a glove! baaadaaaboom |
Who knew there wd ever come a day when I'd need to know the difference btwn cocktail dress & black tie/or why clothes shd be cut on the bias/or the difference btwn satin & peau de soie. Jeez -- I'm having flashbacks... "Check to see if the hemline is weighted. At that price, it should be, or the jacket will never hang right." Bah, humbug! The only clothing advice I ever paid attention to was her tips on buying fur: "Always female only pelts. Mink & sable are the best. Skip the nutria & all fox except silver. Beaver & raccoon might as well be rat fur -- if a man gives you either one/the man & the coat are worthless." But according to my mother/the entire reason I'm still single is becuz I don't dress better & I hate housework. And don't care who knows it. (I wonder what her explaination is for why my brother is still single...) |
I know what I like, but even that's not safe right now. I sense another shift in my tastes in clothing coming on. |
shopping for clothes is a pain in the ass. |
I wonder why department stores carry "womens" sizes but don't carry clothing for us "full-figured" men. |
or it might be the hair. |
my new favorite fabrics are microfiber, ultra fine corduroy, and polarfleece. i got over my polyester phobia, i guess. |
Yes, I do wear fur. Or I did. Got myself a mink coat w/my first bonus check from my 1st 'real' job after college. Sold it some years later to pay my expenses during film school. Ya can't get that kind of resale value on polar fleece. I think fur is fabulous. Nothing feels as warm or as luxurious. (I mean, really -- wd you even think abt making hot monkey love on top of a microfiber coat in the middle of the floor?). About 80% of the pelts comes from ranch-raised animals who were bred to become coats (except for fox & lynx.) And I'm an unrepentant carnivore/so I don't have a problem w/fur. But I do draw the line a exotics & endangered species. |
I can't imagine wearing fur in florida, though. and in portland it's usually too wet for it anyway. I have also recently started to appreciate synthetics. it took me seven years to come around to fleece, but now I understand. warm. dries fast. and I love microfiber. especially for underwear. it's not ugly like nylon, it doesn't fade quickly and lose its shape like cotton. and I like lycra. stretchy clothes look so great. but wool will always be a special friend to me. I think my long black wool crepe wins my best skirt of 1999 award. it barely wrinkles. it swooshes when I walk fast. |
I hate fur. my grandmother had a fur coat and whenever I touched it all I could think about was death. My family always had a lot of stray cats come in, so I'm familiar with dead animals. I've had to touch dead cats before (someone had to get rid of them) and their fur always felt different when they were dead. It wasn't just their limp bodies - their fur just felt Different. unreal. fur coats, hats, boots, whatever...they all feel like dead cat to me. |
in most other languages I've tried to learn, "leather" and "skin" are the same word. |
LEAVE ME ALONE. |
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I don't wear leather, though. Which makes it Really hard to buy belts. |
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Now I'm wearing a darkblue t shirt, jerking my gerkin with a fur lined-leather cocksock, dreaming about Nate having sex with Starboy out on the septic tank while Charlie's Angels are standing there yelling "Pick Me! Pick Me!" FetidBeaver is pissing in my crock pot, while Patrick makes plans to go to Mexico to see the shearing of the seersucker herd. RC's playing golf with DonHo in Hawaii. What the fuck? |
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Took half a beaver pelt for the lining. The outter is Ovine, of course. |
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I had a dream with Nate in it before I left for Detroit. Swine was there as well. Nate was not bald and he was wearign a yellow shirt and black pants. Swine was all in black, and since I have never seen him, I pictured him as looking like Seal. There were a couple other people there as well. We were in a dim apartment, and I am pretty sure we were all extremly high. All I remember is that Nate wouldn't get off the couch and Swine wouldn't sit down, and kept ordering people to fetch him a beer. |
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sweet cheeks.Now tell me that picture of the guy on the toilet wasn,t you Sem. |
Who else did you think it was? That was taken way back in late 1992, though. If and when i get a scanner, i will amuse you all with pics of the days when i earned the nickname Vanilla Fro. |
Now I'm going to be thinking about that toilet picture everytime you say something. |
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here I am at age five or so. it couldn't have been my parents' idea for me to pretend I was praying, so I must have done it on my own. maybe I was going through a god phase. I wish I knew. |
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Gee, I don't look very much like that photo now anyway, although the attitude is the same. I have been told I resemble Richard Dreyfuss, from the Jaws era, if that helps. now that I think about it, I really do look like Richard Dreyfuss. I suppose that's bettter than looking like Louie Anderson. |
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that's a really cute picture of you, Cyst. |
I was probably pretending to pray because I wanted to be pious like my best friend, a little blond catholic girl. my dad must have taken the photo. my mother really discouraged any religious inclinations in me and my brother. except for getting us christened (just in case, I guess). |
cute pic Cyst At my 21st birthday my mum made beer coasters with pictures of me as a kid and smart comments on the back. People took them home. |
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or possibly w/out the ".html" bit, I can't remember. there are many photos of me not on the john. Altho I may have violated the rule about not posting photos if you have the ugh on yer mug. |
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http://www.angelfire.com/wi/semillama |
Semillama, you like Tom Green or is that just your address? One time he was on Open Mike with Mike Bullard (canadian talk show) and he dropped a dead raccoon (I Think it was a raccoon) on Mike's desk. Not a stuffed one - a real dead animal. Mike finished the interview calmly and when the commercial came he went out back and threw up in the parking lot. it was freaky. Mike was decent, though. He still invited him back for another time. I think he's been on the show about five times. |
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also found out that all that's on mtv now is this brittany whoever and the boy group equivalent type stuff. (yuck) also- ifc = crack (i don't have a tv here, can you tell?) |
(VELCRO, PAPILLON, THE SENSUALISTS, HELENE RENAUT Messieurs et mesdemoiselles! Vôtre attention, s'il vous plaît! Laissez-nous introduire: Papillon! Whether you chalk it up to the proliferation of Euro-kitsch, the inexplicable popularity of Air, or the name-dropping ubiquity of Serge Gainsbourg, Francophilia is in full bloom, and Portland's own Papillon has come prepared to tickle noses (and ears) with Les Aquarelles, its new bouquet of sweet pop blossoms. Papillon sings en français for all but two songs on this debut CD, which is highlighted by the dewy vocal web stretched between sugar-tongued Brittany native Mikael Jehanno and backup crooner Kate Merril. Unfortunately, provided you haven't been Rip Van Winkling the last 30 years away, you won't find much new with which to fertilize your mind; Les Aquarelles is rooted in '60s pop, not the here-and-now. But, for the most part, Papillon grows a batch of sunny rock painted with the bright pastel tints hinted by the album's title (which translates as "watercolors"). Le <<rock français>> n'est pas mort! (JG) Beulahland, 118 NE 28th Ave., 235-2794. 9 pm Saturday, Jan. 8. Free.) then we went to a dyke club and danced to songs from the grease soundtrack. I'd never been there before. some of the women looked like really cute guys. has anyone seen "run, lola, run"? is it worth $2? |
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but it made me very tired the concept of flashing bits of the people they contacted seemed pretty brilliant- although i suppose it could be some hackneyed thing that i never noticed before |
The guys i stayed with in Detroit had Digital Cable, which, if I ever pull a lame-ass stunt and am bedridden for the rest of my life, will be a requirement. For example: BET World Music Channell (lots of Foreign Jazz), MTV X (all hard rock videos), VH1 Classic Rock, and especially for me- Discovery Civilazation channell, which all anthro/archaeo - stuff. Perfect for hangover recovery. |
the wee hours are the only quiet ones in this house. |
Friday night I fell asleep laying the wrong way on my bed. I dreamed I was driving to visit Nate, and I had my old Honda Civic. I also had a cell phone, which I was using to talk to Nate as I drove to visit him. He sounded excited to see me when I first took off. I missed the turnoff for Springfield (in which state? dunno). I ended up having to back down the ramp for the North Utah exit (I didn't take the one for South Utah, thank god). As soon as I took the Springfield exit, I just had to stay on it. I was meeting Nate and his girlfriend for dinner. I showed up at the restaurant and they were nice, but it was tense. I could tell they'd just had (and were probably in sub-tones still having) one of those arguments you always have just before you're about to do something like go out to dinner with a stranger. I could tell she wanted him to bail on dinner because the fight was important, damn it, but he didn't want to, because why did she always have to start important fights just before they had a social engagement, damn it. I didn't have enough money for dinner, and in that atmosphere I was not about to let on. So I ordered iced tea and told them I'd stuffed myself with junk food on the trip. I was starving, and I wanted to just tell them please go home and finish your fight, but I didn't want that to be used as fight ammo for either of them. Then Cameron woke me up and told me it was bedtime, and to turn around and go back to sleep. So I did that. Then LAST NIGHT I had a dream that one of the cats brought in a small, bedraggled, white, rodent looking thing, but I could tell by putting my hand over it (my hand told me it was Ursus bear...wierd bad science in my dreams) that it was a very very young bear, a preemie. I chased the cats away and wrapped it up warm and looked for a place to help it grow to health, and I worried about raising it with the cats so it wouldn't see them as a food source when it got big enough to munch them, and then I thought if I got it to believe it was a big mean cat I could move to coyote territory because the coyotes would have to be insane to fuck with cats that smelled like they lived with a bear. Then the alarm went off. |
Margret will be pregnant within a year. The baby will be a son/whom she will name Bart. He will have an inexplicable fondness for honey & scratching his back against trees. He will always be tall for his age & rather hirsute. On his 10th birthday/he will leave a note saying he is off to visit his Uncle Nate & hitchike to the hinterlands of California/where he will spend a month sleeping under Nate's front porch & catching fish w/his bare teeth in the river behind the house. Nate's cats will take to him immediately. The bird will be a bit more standoffish. Bart will give Nate's reptile a heart attack by pretending to eat it for sport/but Nate will forgive him. Nate will teach Bart to create subservise digital music/& drink tequila from a girl's belly button/& smoke hashish. Bart will return home slightly hungover but unharmed/& hibernate for 3 mos. He will then write a book about his adventure w/ Uncle Nate/which everyone will asume is fiction/but which will nonetheless make it to the top of the NY Times Bestsellers list/making Bart the youngest author to achieve such a milestone. A lucrative deal for an animated t.v. show will follow. Nate will be signed to do his character's voiceovers/thus unleashing his latent talents for strange vocal caricatures. He will abandon the computer biz to work fulltime as a voiceover artist/be notorious for showing up for work in his pyjamas & being high 24-7. He will become quite rich & will eventually erect a huge sign on his rooftop saying FUCK THE FRENCH! A cult will spring up around him as a result. No one but Nate will ever believe Bart's book is true. But they'll both be laughing all the way to the bank. |