“I always use what remains of my dreams of the night before.” ~ Eugene Ionesco
I’ve noticed something: when I’m away from home, I do not have the vivid dreams that I have here. I have no idea as to why that is. Perhaps it’s because whenever I’m away, I never quite settle, so my mind cannot drift the way that it does here. Anyway, I had a really wild one last night.
First, I dreamed I went to a tattoo parlor to get three tattoos: Two very small ones: an eternity symbol and an anchor, both on my wrists. Then I wanted a large tattoo of a swallow on my left shoulder. I talked to some people when I went in, and the friends who were with me were called back, but I kept waiting and waiting, and no one came to help me. Finally, I wandered into the back and shouted, “Is anyone going to give me my tattoos?” Two guys came up to me and said that they would do my tattoos.
I wanted plain black ink tattoos, but the artist who was going to do the swallow said that it would look better as a white tattoo. I didn’t want a white tattoo. Then we walked to another part of the parlor that was actually outside. As I was walking, I said, “Wow, that’s a great view.” The guy said, “what view?” I said, “the water, you can see the water.” He wasn’t impressed. The other guy said that he thought that the compass that I wanted (the anchor had switched to a compass) would look better on the nape of my neck. I said that I didn’t want a tattoo there. No one seemed to be listening to what I wanted.
Then the dream shifted to me being at my parents home, and I was reading the Sunday paper. I was so depressed because the paper was so small; all of the sections were folded into just one section. The death of the daily newspaper really bothered me.
Anyway, that’s about it for today. Just a note about the song: In my younger days, I did a Rickie Lee Jones thing, with the hat and the leather coat. Then the other day, this song popped up. Serendipity.
Music by Rickie Lee Jones, “Bonfires”
In the early afternoon my mother
was doing the dishes. I climbed
onto the kitchen table, I suppose
to play, and fell asleep there.
I was drowsy and awake, though,
as she lifted me up, carried me
on her arms into the living room,
and placed me on the davenport,
but I pretended to be asleep
the whole time, enjoying the luxury—
was too big for such a privilege
and just old enough to form
my only memory of her carrying me.
She’s still moving me to a softer place.
“Once in a while it vanishes—in the sense that I become deaf to beauty for a week or two or three. This coming and going of the inner life—because this is what it is—is a curse and a blessing. I don’t need to explain why it’s a curse. A blessing because it brings about a movement, an energy which, when it peaks, creates a poem. Or a moment of happiness.” ~ Adam Zagajewski, from 2004 interview with Poets & Writers
Saturday afternoon. Cloudy and still relatively cool, 77 degrees.
As I was standing in the middle of the backyard at 6 a.m., several things occurred to me at once:
I only went to bed two hours ago
It’s very, very bright out here
Something, or a lot of somethings are biting my ankles
I really like the fact that the captain on “Grimm” speaks French
My French is dated as I still use the formal vous as opposed to the familiar tu
My brain is working at warp speed
Does this mean that I should forego sleep most of the time so that I can be ultra alert at odd hours?
Perhaps this lull in which I have been mired is finally receding, or perhaps the puppy’s internal alarm clock is going to be the death of me.
“Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating.” ~ Louis Aragon, from Paris Peasant
Yesterday, quite by accident, I came upon a singer/songwriter I absolutely love—Jimmy LaFave. Years ago, I heard the song “Never is a Moment” on a local radio station. I called the station to find out who the singer was, and the DJ identified LaFave. Of course, that was before YouTube and easy internet searches that allow you to plug in a few words from the lyrics, and presto! Song.
Anyway, I was never able to find a copy of the song . . . until yesterday, when I found it without looking for it. Serendipity. Anyway, as soon as the first few bars played, I was taken back to that day when I first heard it, and I have to say, it still moves me. And then after a little digging I came across another version of the song by Italian singer Zucchero Fornaciari, and I found that I love that version too. Good stuff.
So here’s to discoveries we weren’t looking for. Here’s to memories we had forgotten. Here’s to unpolished gems finding their way to the top of the pile. Here’s to my being way too excited over a song.
“All of us are trapped in our skins and drowning in gravity. Physics is unforgiving. Nature is predatory. We do not walk through a passive landscape.” ~ Richard Siken, in an interview with Legacy Russell
So here are some other random thoughts:
Last night I dreamed that I was again being bullied, this time by some women with whom my ex used to work at the medical school
In real life, they were a biting bunch of harpies, so why are they haunting my dreams
In real life, I was never the victim of bullying, a little name-calling,
I think I actually had these dreams this morning after I was finally able to go to sleep
That burst of energy to which I referred in section one? Gone, completely gone
I would kill for some Oreos
The crack in the bathroom floor tile has expanded. Not good, she remarked, apropos of nothing . . .
I always, always misspell apropos the first time that I type it
“That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it.” ~ Joan Didion, fromSlouching Towards Bethlehem
I have eaten all of my Chimes Ginger Chews. Considering I had over a pound of them, that’s a lot of Chimes Ginger Chews. Hmm . . . can I make an entire post out of my love for Chimes Ginger Chews? Probably. It it something worth doing? Definitely not.
Other things . . .
I notice things like the expanding crack in the bathroom floor in the middle of the night
In so doing, I engage my mind in things about which I need to worry, thereby making peaceful sleep improbable
Hence, I dream of bullies
Instead of Oreos, I just ate two of my red bean Mochis, at 80 calories each, I suppose that’s not too awfully caloric, definitely less than a sleeve of O-r-e-os.
I happened to look at my reflection as I was walking past the bathroom mirror, and I noticed that my hair is as long as it was in high school, but not by choice
I’ve been debating whether to suck it up and try to go back to my former hairdresser or to take a chance on someone new
I’ve been debating this for well over a year, which is why my hair is way too long and unmanageable
By the time I make a decision, my hair may have reached my bum
“She did not wish to remember; it troubled her when people tried to disturb her loneliness; she wished to be alone. She wished for nothing else in the world.” ~ Virginia Woolf, from The Voyage Out
So in the wee hours of the morning I took a hot shower in an attempt to calm my body and perhaps wash away whatever was making me itch. It worked for a while, but I just realized that I’m scratching again. I don’t know if this is a nervous tic, a response to medication, or merely fatigue, but it’s annoying. I mean, I’m a picker (not of the nose), but of scabs and wounds. I do not allow my body to heal completely before I start to worry a wound, which is why the bottom of my left foot has yet to heal.
After the doctor excised the corn core, he said that the surrounding hardened tissue should resolve itself, and perhaps it would have if I had left it alone, but I didn’t, and I mention this only because as I was walking back from the kitchen, I hit my foot on something, and now I am blinking back involuntary tears of pain.
In the 90’s when I agreed to be a test patient for a subcutaneous birth control system called Norplant, I would find myself playing with the tiny silicon capsules that lay beneath my skin. I don’t believe they still offer this form of birth control because so many women were affected adversely, but it was a slow-release medication, and the intent was that you wouldn’t have to think about birth control for the entire time Norplant was in your body.
I had all kinds of horrible side effects and had to have the system removed, but while it was there, it presented me with a unique toy: something that felt like toothpicks beneath my skin.
Why do I tell you this? I have no idea. I only know that my foot is throbbing, and my back is itching just beyond my reach, and I have finally reached the absolute nadir of my adrenaline.
More later. Peace.
To appease my heightened senses, I have chosen images by French Fauvist André Derain (1880-1954).