Bike show.
Rain.
Night.
City.
The Westin Bonaventure in Downtown Los Angeles.
Stained glass cylindrical high-rises.
A stressed Chinese schoolgirl ballpointing large dewey eyes in a ruled notebook; homework assignment she hasn't completed before the start of class. She sits next to a uniformed friend on one of those two-personed desks made of wood like the ones we had in Chinese School.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
BIRDS HAVE HOBBIES.
The dream takes places at a green park that rolls along banks of a small river. It was a sunny comfortable day, I walked a cement path chain smoking wide cigarettes. During my walk I notice a good deal of graffiti. The high concentration of graffiti in this one park has me curious. Then I see it, I know who is responsible for all of it.
There is a single crow graffiti artist, I understand how the graffiti went up in the difficult spots. I have a flashback to a piece I saw on the overpass and other pieces he had done... A bird has access to all of them, I explained it to johanna. Luckily as I finished my explanation we spotted him near us painting.
I think I saw a ribbon in his mouth.R.
There is a single crow graffiti artist, I understand how the graffiti went up in the difficult spots. I have a flashback to a piece I saw on the overpass and other pieces he had done... A bird has access to all of them, I explained it to johanna. Luckily as I finished my explanation we spotted him near us painting.
I think I saw a ribbon in his mouth.R.
SEA CREATURES, UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA/DESIGN SCHOOL, LOOKING AT DEATH FROM ABOVE.
I'm standing at the bow of a yacht with high school friends including W. and L. The midday sun is shinning the way it does in Albert Camus' The Stranger when they stroll behind his mother's corpse for the funeral procession: white blinding heat that inspires choleric languidness. I fall asleep.
When I wake up I find fishes littered on our vessel. They have long torsos (lateral lines) with golden crispy skins that have been lightly breaded and deep fried twice. But they are alive and they sport that generic fishy look with listless, bulging eyes that slightly glimmers panic, and mouths shaped in dumb O's, ready to suck a duck.
Fried living creatures are eerie + repulsive; I do not want them touching me even though W. has assured me they are harmless. I suppose these fishes are like dogs, however, and my fear wafting into their puckering mouths is like heat that activating matter's static particles into microscopic armies of jittery balls. In other words, they glide only towards me. I begin kicking them away. I escape to the inside of the vessel and by the inside I mean it is the dining area of my childhood house with those dark brown cupboards. I'm nauseas. I'm worried they will swallow a leg.
Then I'm flying or driving or walking or gliding through my old college campus. The setting is much less nautical, more terrestrial, more temperate, and more nocturnal. Everything is wet and anything that is green spawns from rich dark soil. I bet I was smelling fresh pine. Nonetheless, I still feel hot + crispy + salty from exorbitant sunbathing. Somebody comments I am unnaturally red. I'm browsing in a library, not at UVa anyway, but in some design school where students are dressed in high-fashion. G. stands behind me with a toothy grin (I think we're boarding the ship together) and begins rubbing my armpits while I surf the internet. He grins, "I can't feel them [my armpits] the way I used to." His audacity and koan-y remark vexes me. But we have to go. On our way to the elevator we pass a table of students who are having a meeting about some student/fashion magazine.
In the elevator, we are with L. G. grabs out a green key/ninja star looking object from his black backpack and strikes the elevator pad three times. He says this will slow down the acceleration of descent, but it actually feels like the reverse, and as we fall faster and faster I think to myself that at least I will now know how I will die. We hit something hard, as though our little elevator were some kind of space-travel vessel exploding through different levels of earth's atmosphere. I feel my body blasting through darkness and debris (in slow motion, of course). I keep expecting something painful will perforate through my body. It is my logic, I suppose, during moments of duress that thinking one step ahead of my own end will make the situation much less miserable.
We do not die. Instead we hit the library again. A sleepy professor wearing a very peculiar gray beanie walks towards me and compliments on my portfolio. We should keep in touch, she says. Another professor, however, with gauzy things and long beautiful peppery dreads explodes into a green wrathful octopus (reminiscent of "The Little Mermaid" where Ursula's anger grows her fat ill-willed tentacles). Some students are bored, others spring in haste for quick escape. There are some flip-flopped chairs. The octopus grabs the three of us instead, devouring us within the caverns of the elevator pit.
When I wake up I find fishes littered on our vessel. They have long torsos (lateral lines) with golden crispy skins that have been lightly breaded and deep fried twice. But they are alive and they sport that generic fishy look with listless, bulging eyes that slightly glimmers panic, and mouths shaped in dumb O's, ready to suck a duck.
Fried living creatures are eerie + repulsive; I do not want them touching me even though W. has assured me they are harmless. I suppose these fishes are like dogs, however, and my fear wafting into their puckering mouths is like heat that activating matter's static particles into microscopic armies of jittery balls. In other words, they glide only towards me. I begin kicking them away. I escape to the inside of the vessel and by the inside I mean it is the dining area of my childhood house with those dark brown cupboards. I'm nauseas. I'm worried they will swallow a leg.
Then I'm flying or driving or walking or gliding through my old college campus. The setting is much less nautical, more terrestrial, more temperate, and more nocturnal. Everything is wet and anything that is green spawns from rich dark soil. I bet I was smelling fresh pine. Nonetheless, I still feel hot + crispy + salty from exorbitant sunbathing. Somebody comments I am unnaturally red. I'm browsing in a library, not at UVa anyway, but in some design school where students are dressed in high-fashion. G. stands behind me with a toothy grin (I think we're boarding the ship together) and begins rubbing my armpits while I surf the internet. He grins, "I can't feel them [my armpits] the way I used to." His audacity and koan-y remark vexes me. But we have to go. On our way to the elevator we pass a table of students who are having a meeting about some student/fashion magazine.
In the elevator, we are with L. G. grabs out a green key/ninja star looking object from his black backpack and strikes the elevator pad three times. He says this will slow down the acceleration of descent, but it actually feels like the reverse, and as we fall faster and faster I think to myself that at least I will now know how I will die. We hit something hard, as though our little elevator were some kind of space-travel vessel exploding through different levels of earth's atmosphere. I feel my body blasting through darkness and debris (in slow motion, of course). I keep expecting something painful will perforate through my body. It is my logic, I suppose, during moments of duress that thinking one step ahead of my own end will make the situation much less miserable.
We do not die. Instead we hit the library again. A sleepy professor wearing a very peculiar gray beanie walks towards me and compliments on my portfolio. We should keep in touch, she says. Another professor, however, with gauzy things and long beautiful peppery dreads explodes into a green wrathful octopus (reminiscent of "The Little Mermaid" where Ursula's anger grows her fat ill-willed tentacles). Some students are bored, others spring in haste for quick escape. There are some flip-flopped chairs. The octopus grabs the three of us instead, devouring us within the caverns of the elevator pit.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
INVENTORY.
A dusty room. Of the 70s. Bomchickabowa.
Strips of dark-stained wood veneer.
Shaggy carpet that's nasty.
A sofa; on Craigslist, they call it retro chic.
Brown boxes the kind you get when you're laid off.
Sliding glass door and a sunset like Britney Spear's "I'm a Slave for You" with a splash of mellow yellow bleeding to the insides.j
Strips of dark-stained wood veneer.
Shaggy carpet that's nasty.
A sofa; on Craigslist, they call it retro chic.
Brown boxes the kind you get when you're laid off.
Sliding glass door and a sunset like Britney Spear's "I'm a Slave for You" with a splash of mellow yellow bleeding to the insides.j
Thursday, February 14, 2008
MEET THE PARENTS.
Card-shufflin'. Bamboo terrace. Slippery hills.
Then, let's go meet Ryan's dad and L too. I tricked my parents. Allegedly, mom had some errands to run, she'll be there in a minute, Alvin will go with her. They're all cross, and if they were stick figurines, their arms would make perfect diagonal braces in little check boxes for those YES/NO questionnaires: Would you like to meet the parents? □YES! xNO!
Three unhappy xNO!'s
In my dream, Ryan's dad just moved to a ranch by the freeway. It's very horizontal and squat and the wood planks are pomegranate stained. Outside is a long stretch of grass the way it was when we first hiked Turnball: Scottish (or as we imagine the Scottish country-scape to be). There is an Olympian-sized pool in the courtyard, but it is too frigid to swim. Everything is new and barren and unsettled in the never-ending rooms painted pink-salmon; plastic sheets, sawdust and dirt still ornament the hardwood floors. They are unleveled.
After peeing I find my dad stir-frying tofu with Ryan's dad, which is a relief because initially he was quiet and difficult. But a rush of festive Chinese couples--you know, the kinds in their 50's or 60's who wear pearls and spritz Chanel No. 5 and wear 2-piece suits with brass cuff-links to even casual occasions such as golf tournaments--come flooding into the pool deck. I become upset because I assume my mother had sabotaged our private soirée by inviting these people. I politely ask them to leave. They ask for directions. I am confused because I'm not very sure where we are so I spit some gibberish about the 605 N connecting to the 60 then the 10 even though we aren't in Whittier at all. By then it is dusk already and the highway moves like molten lava.
Happy Valentines Day, My Dear Reader.j
Then, let's go meet Ryan's dad and L too. I tricked my parents. Allegedly, mom had some errands to run, she'll be there in a minute, Alvin will go with her. They're all cross, and if they were stick figurines, their arms would make perfect diagonal braces in little check boxes for those YES/NO questionnaires: Would you like to meet the parents? □YES! xNO!
Three unhappy xNO!'s
In my dream, Ryan's dad just moved to a ranch by the freeway. It's very horizontal and squat and the wood planks are pomegranate stained. Outside is a long stretch of grass the way it was when we first hiked Turnball: Scottish (or as we imagine the Scottish country-scape to be). There is an Olympian-sized pool in the courtyard, but it is too frigid to swim. Everything is new and barren and unsettled in the never-ending rooms painted pink-salmon; plastic sheets, sawdust and dirt still ornament the hardwood floors. They are unleveled.
After peeing I find my dad stir-frying tofu with Ryan's dad, which is a relief because initially he was quiet and difficult. But a rush of festive Chinese couples--you know, the kinds in their 50's or 60's who wear pearls and spritz Chanel No. 5 and wear 2-piece suits with brass cuff-links to even casual occasions such as golf tournaments--come flooding into the pool deck. I become upset because I assume my mother had sabotaged our private soirée by inviting these people. I politely ask them to leave. They ask for directions. I am confused because I'm not very sure where we are so I spit some gibberish about the 605 N connecting to the 60 then the 10 even though we aren't in Whittier at all. By then it is dusk already and the highway moves like molten lava.
Happy Valentines Day, My Dear Reader.j
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
OLD MEN DONT NEED BEARDS
I had a job taking care of a surly senior citizen in his home. Most of the details aren't there but I do recall at one point as he sat on a couch to my right his phone rang and I picked up for him. On the line was a man doing a terrible impersonation of a woman, The caller said he had dated my senior citizen in high school,Back then he called himself sarah or some other womans name.
Later in the dream at the same home I looked into a mirror and discovered I was wearing a full beard. The hair of the beard was long soft and fine, the mustache portion hid my mouth in a dark brown curtain of hair. I was excited over my new ability at facial hair growth, I went back not long after and there was only dark stubble. At the large framed mirror on the mantel I found hair clippings, dental tools and shears. I couldn't recall doing it but with the evidence there I accepted the guilt for the destruction of my the beard.
after that a few friends and I took a short bike ride that ended when I woke. I road a bmx bike.
The second dream took place in a restaurant. I was with a friend and his korean roommate. We all drew cartoons at the table on scraps of paper. I asked the roommate to draw a korean style cartoon then we discussed typical korean casual wear.R
Later in the dream at the same home I looked into a mirror and discovered I was wearing a full beard. The hair of the beard was long soft and fine, the mustache portion hid my mouth in a dark brown curtain of hair. I was excited over my new ability at facial hair growth, I went back not long after and there was only dark stubble. At the large framed mirror on the mantel I found hair clippings, dental tools and shears. I couldn't recall doing it but with the evidence there I accepted the guilt for the destruction of my the beard.
after that a few friends and I took a short bike ride that ended when I woke. I road a bmx bike.
The second dream took place in a restaurant. I was with a friend and his korean roommate. We all drew cartoons at the table on scraps of paper. I asked the roommate to draw a korean style cartoon then we discussed typical korean casual wear.R
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, HACKEY-SACK, OLD CRUSH, OLD NEIGHBOR, A CREW.
It is evening. I am playing hackey-sack in a group with J.P., an old crush. He is Jewish. The setting changes to my drive-way in the Dominican Republic. I know it is Sunday and I know my parents are holding a BBQ soiree because I smell smoke. We continue playing underneath the coconut tree. A stretched escalade limo that is pearly champagne pulls into our street. It yells expensive. In it are big men coming back from an awards show sporting colorful baseball caps. Around their necks hang heavy shinny chains. They want to know where to park, so I get into the limo and lead them plus or minus 5 FT. where the street ends. They can park here. When we walk towards my house someone notices bottles of alcohol lined on a brown folding table in front of my neighbor's home. They live across the street in a two-story, white washed, cynder block home, with a front yard, and an overhanging balcony. Someone is angry and chastises my neighbor for making alcohol available to minors. I am annoyed this person is so North American and disrespectful of different cultural ethics. Nevertheless, we still go inside to tell the neighbors. When we peer inside they are watching television after a long day of drinking; they do not understand the severity of the situation but are polite. An old woman with a patchy faux-hawk wearing a white flowy nightgown asks if I am B.'s daughter. I say yes. She smiles and comments on my piano playing and that she occassionally watches me playing through her window.j
Friday, February 8, 2008
BLANK MEMORY # 2.
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j.
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j.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
SUNSHINE.
I am overlooking a cliff. There is a body of water underneath with the grandeur of ocean. All is sunshine, but it is dusk, and the colors are like taking a swim through morir-soñando. There is a yellow cab. J. is there as well. Happy Chinese Rat Year, Dear Reader.j
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
A PURPLE WHEEL SETS THE END
The dream started with me standing over my bicycle in an open space (maybe a park). I was waiting for a midnight ride to begin.A friend on my left asked how much money I had put into my bike. $100 with my new wheel set, I looked down and saw that my orange bicycle was wearing purple wheels.
Johanna and I were going to meet at the rides start point, I can't remember the details of how we met but she was with a large guy, They may have been holding each other around the middle. we walked a very short distance to a cheep fast food place, taco bell or some mexican knockoff. Lots of plastic table chair combinations fake plants and harsh white lighting.
I asked johanna what she was doing, she wanted me to accept that they had kissed a few times but that she didn't like him much.
I was hurt and angry. I turned power walked directly out of the rear entrance. Ryan
Johanna and I were going to meet at the rides start point, I can't remember the details of how we met but she was with a large guy, They may have been holding each other around the middle. we walked a very short distance to a cheep fast food place, taco bell or some mexican knockoff. Lots of plastic table chair combinations fake plants and harsh white lighting.
I asked johanna what she was doing, she wanted me to accept that they had kissed a few times but that she didn't like him much.
I was hurt and angry. I turned power walked directly out of the rear entrance. Ryan
BLANK MEMORY # 1
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j.
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j.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Friday, February 1, 2008
DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, MOM + BROTHER, TORRENTIAL RAIN, REPTILES, PARTY.
i'm a high school student again. back in the dominican republic. and hey mom im mad at you. maybe. string of events and im mad. maybe. but it starts raining and i'm at the office talking to the ladies in administration. playground with pebbles. from here i see alligators escaping from the pond next to the library. torrential rain it's flooding, you see? i've got to do something about it or someone might get hurt. but im afraid, ok? mom, im afraid and the alligators are out someone will loose a limb. she is maternal now, she leads me across the playground towards reptilian chaos. wet pebbles little pools wet grass. they're out but they're only the size of a golf ball, see, and honey, we might as well put these miniature turtles away as well. i am disgusted it is like touching bread soaked in putrid waters. but i am also relieved, maybe mom isn't so bad anyway. my brother, a., is helping too now. we put these loosened reptiles away. a. tosses one my way. maybe. god damn it, this isn't very funny because miniature alligators and turtles are nasty, and im annoyed by all this slippery-ness, okay?
everywhere things are still marked with small pools, but the raining has stopped, and things are beginning to look fresh like melancholic spring the way it did in the secret garden. but dusk is creeping and the setting is not english manor. we go to a party where the house is Modern and very horizontal. it is all glass and concrete and steel but hey the landscape is celebrated the grass is still wet. so the house is very frank lloyd wright and mies van der rohe. it is a party but the setting is very dark it feels and looks the way the dominican republic does when it reaches 6 in the evening. i see all these kids from high school nicely dressed in collared shirts and khaki pants having a good time making out silly with a little alcohol. mom knows everyone, she goes away to talk to someone. i sit in the tv room, the furniture is all very Modern too. black leather and sleek metal. there are people making out but i see a boy who used to like me sulking at the corner. i haven't seen you in so long. we used to discuss edgar allan poe and existentialism and death a lot. i don't remember your name anymore.j
everywhere things are still marked with small pools, but the raining has stopped, and things are beginning to look fresh like melancholic spring the way it did in the secret garden. but dusk is creeping and the setting is not english manor. we go to a party where the house is Modern and very horizontal. it is all glass and concrete and steel but hey the landscape is celebrated the grass is still wet. so the house is very frank lloyd wright and mies van der rohe. it is a party but the setting is very dark it feels and looks the way the dominican republic does when it reaches 6 in the evening. i see all these kids from high school nicely dressed in collared shirts and khaki pants having a good time making out silly with a little alcohol. mom knows everyone, she goes away to talk to someone. i sit in the tv room, the furniture is all very Modern too. black leather and sleek metal. there are people making out but i see a boy who used to like me sulking at the corner. i haven't seen you in so long. we used to discuss edgar allan poe and existentialism and death a lot. i don't remember your name anymore.j
DIY, DEMI AND A SPORT BIKE
i was in the back yard chopping at a big log with an ax to make a pare of wooden handle bars for a new bike I had, but I was side tracked by a call from in the house. My grandmother was calling me in to watch my uncle rick(who isn't a blood relative) on the news, The newscaster said he had almost died eating a thanks giving dinner he made the night before , I knew it was feb and that seemed strange to me. The report showed the market where he bought the meat. They allowed cats to walk on the counters.
After i started using trash bags ironed together and a bunch of inexpensive white cooks aprons to make a messenger bag. I told my grandmother I would help her by paying for the duck dinner she was preparing to my right. She asked me what part I liked , since I was paying for the meal. 5:13 am.
not long after I had a detailed dream that was set on the boulders against the sea. the entire surface of the rocks was covered in penguins, myself and two others started across these bolders squashing the heads of these penguins as we went, my hand sank in the mass and one bit my finger. In the water close to the rocks where we were. I saw the big white belly of a shark. my two comrads had gotten into the water and I knew they'd be dead soon. so I moved to make my escape to the right I didn't look back i didnt want to see. I met a wall,where the wall of rock ended a woman was. she helped me up then peaked to see what was left of my friends. Pretty quickly i noticed I recognized the woman. she looked like a younger demi moore. I asked her name and it was. we talked for a wile I wanted to tell her about the career she would have. I wasn't sure I ought to tell her about her future in acting and her celebrity husbands.
my last dream I was on a sport bike riding down a freeway with a bunch of other riders. I didn't know how to work the gears and clutch but it didn't seem to matter I just used the throttle. In the middle of the freeway we did a u turn. We stopped to discuss where we were and if we had lost the main group I noticed a man to my left wasn't on a sportbike he was on a old and dark olive green track bike. the bike had a huge chain ring. I didn't believe he had been able to keep up with use the entire time.ryan
After i started using trash bags ironed together and a bunch of inexpensive white cooks aprons to make a messenger bag. I told my grandmother I would help her by paying for the duck dinner she was preparing to my right. She asked me what part I liked , since I was paying for the meal. 5:13 am.
not long after I had a detailed dream that was set on the boulders against the sea. the entire surface of the rocks was covered in penguins, myself and two others started across these bolders squashing the heads of these penguins as we went, my hand sank in the mass and one bit my finger. In the water close to the rocks where we were. I saw the big white belly of a shark. my two comrads had gotten into the water and I knew they'd be dead soon. so I moved to make my escape to the right I didn't look back i didnt want to see. I met a wall,where the wall of rock ended a woman was. she helped me up then peaked to see what was left of my friends. Pretty quickly i noticed I recognized the woman. she looked like a younger demi moore. I asked her name and it was. we talked for a wile I wanted to tell her about the career she would have. I wasn't sure I ought to tell her about her future in acting and her celebrity husbands.
my last dream I was on a sport bike riding down a freeway with a bunch of other riders. I didn't know how to work the gears and clutch but it didn't seem to matter I just used the throttle. In the middle of the freeway we did a u turn. We stopped to discuss where we were and if we had lost the main group I noticed a man to my left wasn't on a sportbike he was on a old and dark olive green track bike. the bike had a huge chain ring. I didn't believe he had been able to keep up with use the entire time.ryan
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