Saturday, November 22, 2008


In a small, shitty town surrounded everywhere by the tallest, prettiest mountains you ever seen, walking around there was too much ice and dirt on the ground and too many of those mexican carnicerias with paintings of pigs and chickens in the windows and red/green/white paper streamers hanging.  
There was an intense, videogame period where I was in my apartment there and the enemy was coming and I was trying to decide whether to hole up and defend or go to meet them; I think I ended up doing both, at the same time, dreams are odd in that way; branched surreality.
Then I was walking the streets of the town again, shopping, went into an antique-type store that was full of the usual decoratey things you see.  There were cats running all over, and one big motherfucker, mostly black with some white and golden eyes, was shaved on his sides and had been tattooed with a scene of two other cats, but like, "space-cats."  I was delighted by this.

I went to some more places that aren't interesting enough to write about (if there's some magical way somebody's actually reading this i don't think you really need to hear about me dreaming of wandering around giant warehouse dollar stores for hours looking carefully at off-brand body products and malformed sponges).
Then ended up at the ice cream store I used to work in between high school and college, since I apparently have to dream about that place a few times a year for the rest of my life.  Whenever I do dream about it, I'm always disgusted by changes they've made.  This time they had Chicken Ice Cream that didn't taste like anything because I was dreaming but it was "awful."  And the girl working wouldn't give me anything I wanted.  She asked to use my knife to cut the ice cream and I said "sure" and gave her my knife, and she just talked on the phone and cut hunks of chocolate on the counter while I waited, pissed off.

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