| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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| By Colanut on Monday, February 9, 1998 - 01:27 pm: |
What to do? Eventually a friend grabbed onto another basketless balloon and sailed off in pursuit. I went for a walk, wandered into a bookstore forty miles away, and found a pair of glasses. With the insight of the store clerk, I realized that the spectacles belonged to someone I know from cyberworld. I walked back to the balloon launch; someone else took off. I tried, but failed at the lift. Walked down a hill to a little restaurant to see if anyone had heard from the first balloonist. Several of the Green Bay Packers were having lunch and we exchanged lame jokes about "also-rans." Balloonist #1 had returned (by auto). She'd floated 1000 miles or so hanging onto that rope. Balloonist #2 phoned and was having a great time, but was "spending too much." Balloonist #3 was still unaccounted for. I didn't know just what to do with the found spectacles. I heard small arms fire. |
| By Pink Eye on Thursday, February 12, 1998 - 01:36 am: |
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i have to get this down before i loose it. early this morning, i dreamed i was with Johnny Cash and ...another person, whom i believe was my brother, though im unsure. The third person was silent and barely visable. Johnny also, doesnt talk throughout the dream. Just me and others. He wants to go to my church. The presbyterian church I went to sporadically as a kid. Good Sheppard Presb. Church. Im skeptical as I drive the car into the lot. I circle the lot. The church looks a lot different. Snazzy. You can tell the collection plates have been kept full, i think to myself. As i circle the mostly empty lot i keep aiming for a spot and realize thats reserved for herses. Lots of dead people pass through here i think. Finally I park, and step out. All of sudden, thunder and lighting comes crashing. I know why. I look back. Johnny Cash is getting out of his side of the car. He's wearing priests uniform. Its a bit messy, he's unshaven, haggard looking. Bolts of lightning strike. God is telling us something I say. We shouldnt be here. We should go. Johnny nods no. All of sudden this revolving door opens from the church structure and this old man comes running out screaming for us to get out, leave. I stop and defend Johnny by saying "if anyone is to have their faith questioned, it should be me." Im emphatic about this. "Johnny has all the faith in God!". The old man finally calms and goes back inside. We make our way in. Its not like a typical church. There isnt any large congregation area, at least as far as I can see. Johnny goes to clean up in the bathroom and i mingle with some people to explain my being there. Nothing sticks out at this time. Sorta of observing. Its dark in there. I go in to check on Johnny. There are a couple of extremely frail, naked old men in the bathroom. I assume they are also cleaning up. Johnny is there, with his shirt off, cleaning up at the sink. I pat his back and say, "you ok?". He doesnt answer, but its implied he's alright. His back feels salty, corse. One of the women Im talking to, this blonde, in her 40s, clearly like some sort of congregation leader, den mother, whathaveyou hands me something. Its a pill, called "Petoban" or something like that. I learn its like viagra. She hands me these packets, like individual sized gum packets, that have more of these pills. I start to focus on my dark surroundings and realize they are encouraging sex at this church. I come to learn its a cornerstone of their existance. I tell the women "You know who is in that bathroom? you know who I brought? Johnny Cash." She hands me extra pills. Johnny comes out of the bathroom and heads to the bar. What? the Bar! I look up and realize im siting on a stool in a bar. This church has a bar. "For fucks sake" I say. Then I wake. I briefly recounted this nico this morning. She knew right away its meaning. And perhaps its clear. I want to believe. And Johnny Cash's recent public show of faith with his latest album sorta acted as a carrier pigeon in this dream. It was the most dramatic dream I've ever had, or at least in a long long while anyway. Earlier in the night I dreampt i was hanging out with Sergei Federov who had a band in which he was rehersing. what the hell |
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Cars crash around me, and I pay no attention to them, people getting mugged, shot, stabbed, people doing drugs in dark alleyways. I notice all of this, but pay no attention to it, "none of my business." I almost always end up at a library, not any library I've ever been to. One of those huge old victorian style ones. Dark oak everywhere, no people, just me, walking around looking at hundreds of books older then the nation itself. At some points, it seems like I'm walking in slow motion, books thousands of them passing me by 1 by 1. And yet at other times it seems as though I can't go any faster then I already am, the books blur by just like rails filled with paper. Normally I end up outside the library, and find myself on the steps, huge stone steps in a half circle shape to the bottom. Its almost always raining but warm, again no people anymore. No cars, no dogs, no cats, no birds.... Just me, and the rain. Then something extream always happens, ALWAYS. Somtimes its lightning striking feet from me repeatedly over and over. Sometimes a plane crashes into the building in front of me, BOOM! Sometimes, everything just goes white, everything around me dissaperes and I'm left standing in the provirbial "white room." Other things have happened, just think of wild and random, and its probably acceptable. The dream usually ends there. I've been having this sort of dream for about a month now, about 2 to 3 times a week. I always wake up from it, finding myself hours and hours away from work, but it leaves me restless. god I hate being alone. |
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I've spent eight months on the couch since my wife came home from the hospital. And, it's beginning to get to me. I'm torn between crying and tearing everthing within my reach to shreds. I bought one of those inflatable beds on Saturday. Tonight I'll get some sheets and a bed spread. Hopefully I'll get a good nights sleep. But, I really doubt it. The thought of sleeping on an air matress on the floor is not appealing. |
I had a dream the night before last that I was making gigantic (table sized) castles out of cardboard and toothpicks (nothing else). I filled all the balconies with zines and they were beautiful. It couldn't be too difficult to make castles like that. |
All alone, well I've got the cat, but he's insane and really doesn't count. |
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I lost my DSL months and months ago, which ended up being not such a bad thing for me, I found a wonderful girl who made my life good. Work didn't suck, and I got to come home to someone I cared about. Ended up moving to a new place, with no roomates which kicked ass and life overall was good. One thing was missing, I had no internet connection, I lost it because I couldn't afford it at the time. Well once things were good and life was progressing in a positive direction I had the $ to get the DSL back up and running. I didn't tell anyone about my plans to re-up and order the DSL, no one, not family, not the girl, not my friends. I just decided I was going to do it one day, called up Qwest and ordered it. Funny enough that same day, later on, I drove to her house to pick her up for an expensive dinner we had planned. I was going to take her out to a really nice resturant in town dress up and everything. Well I show up, and sitting inside her front door is some of my shit neatly packed up. First thought in my head is, "shit this isn't good." so I head up to her room to see if she's ready to go, ignoring the nagging feeling I'm getting. Thats when I get the proverbial, "we need to talk." line. My only respone to that was, "are you going to tell me what I think your going to tell me." her response was of course... "yes." After that, I was just hurt, not really sad, not angry, just hurt. She asked what I was going to do when I left her house, I told her I was gonna take the 90 some dollars I had to go to dinner and go drinking, why the fuck not. There are a lot more details to this story, but those are the ones that matter, the rest is just personal stuff... There wasn't really a reason given for it, which isn't the first time for that in my life. I guess I'm becoming desensitized to the whole break-up thing. And lately I've just quit looking for women in general, they piss me off. I blame the breakup on getting the DSL, pure and simple. In fact later that night in a drunken stupor, I walk home, walk into the house sit down in my chair and contemplate: "What if I call Qwest back tomorrow and cancel the order, I wonder if then I go over to her house I'll get the line from her." "Maybe we can work this out." Probably just wishful thinking, bleh. |
When did this happen? Is this why you're talking today? |
Really, I figured there was no reason to post it here because well. I don't need help with it or anything, I'm fairly comfortable with where I sit with the whole situation. And frankly, I think over the last however many years, I've bitched enough about women here. But I guess I had to give some kind of update as to my current situation. That and I thought the story had a little merit. As for me talking more lately, its because I now have some time finally. Things are settling out, and I miss my sick little family. |
woo I can't speak for everyone, but I've missed your posts. |
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I just get this feeling not everyone loves me quite as much as you Pez. (and to me, you'll always be Pez.) |
I haven't seen your sorry hide in forever. Don't I owe you a drink? |
Drunk a little, but I will be traveling this winter. :) |
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night, running the blade of the knife under his fingernails, smiling, thinking of all the letters he had received telling him that the way he lived and wrote about that-- it had kept them going when all seemed truly hopeless. putting the blade on the table, he flicked it with a finger and it whirled in a flashing circle under the light. who the hell is going to save me? he thought. as the knife stopped spinning the answer came: you're going to have to save yourself. still smiling, a: he lit a cigarette b: he poured another drink c: gave the blade another spin. - Sem- Your answer, is yes. |
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The one below is my favorite. - Luck - once we were young at this machine. . . drinking smoking typing it was a most splendid miraculous time still is only now instead of moving toward time it moves toward us makes each word drill into the paper clear fast hard feeding a closing space. |
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The DSL vs. girl story is sad, but a good story anyway. |