Saturday, December 25, 2010

x-mas two K ten

i started xmas morning with a dream in which i was a contestant on america's next top model. for some reason i had no recollection of having participated in the show but as each episode aired, there i was, lithe, with a long shiny ponytail, standing before the judging panel.
i was utterly shocked, and tried to post a facebook status about how i'd had no idea i was even in the show until i saw myself on tv, just like them. in one episode a blonde girl accused me of being pregnant, which i was not.
i thought (with a private pleasure) that my friends might be impressed and awed at my new fame. i went to a friend's house and the reception was luke-warm; i looked at an open computer to see an email chain between a guy i had an awkward thing with awhile ago and a friend who moved away: harsh criticism of my top model photo shoot from that week. then around me all of my friends were saying i squinted my eyes too much when i smiled, was fatter than the other girls, thought i was so special and cool but was just a joke, etc. i hadn't even wanted to be/known i was on the show.

later (this is not about the dream) i ate a trad. english fry-up, then saw black swan (aw yeah), it has been a nice nice day

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

time telescoping vignettes

need to video

interpretations of capture, levels of it
speeds of frame
shots, motions, nuances
comic book vs. film

i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself i want to see myself

Friday, December 3, 2010

10-minute dream

I dream I'm in a dark-wood, mossy frank lloyd wright house, fallingwater. These black cats keep having sex on the couch and am like hey, hey stop it, quit it guys. I gather the babies they make, which are small brown papery moths with delicate human skulls for heads. I am holding them in a square clear plastic bowl and it is filling with light amber honey, when the honey touches them they dissolve.

quivers and quills

(source: ffffound)

Thursday, December 2, 2010


Last night the dumpster across the alley was full overflowing, like a tiny apartment had regurgitated itself into the trash. Each item was old and thrift-rickety but not in a way that suggested distant abandonment. A narrow gas oven, folding plaid-woven lawn chairs, jousting lamp poles and various other tinny furnishings leaning furtively. Home objects left outside seem more alive, perhaps perversely feral.
When i crept in like a carrion-feeder, eying lit windows around me for movement, i found the completeness of the dumpster-side collection disturbing. these items so clearly were a whole Something and not discarded parts; my hands reached for the three worn coffee mugs in turn, a sinking chord crescendo-ing inside,
There is a pile of faded photographs in a dish neatly stacked on the rack, pulled down from a fridge i imagine. i snatch them, and two gritty shallow bowls with yellow flowers. The pictures are nondescript; two brown-haired little boys, a flash-bleached family portrait in front of wood paneling.
By morning light the choice items from the pile are gone, picked to detritus, neatly filtered by the vigilant neighborhood. This soothes me. i wash the little bowls like praying

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

a good dream

I dreamed of being in a big antique house with piles of happy thin girls laying on the couches. They reach out to me with gibbony arms and smile.

Then in the distance I hear music and in comes a parade of people and their dogs, walking like the north koreans:
and the people, men and women, are singing in in a handel-esque choir in four parts, and their dogs are singing along with them, each dog matching its owner's pitch and volume in a howl.

I look next to me and there is a light brindle brown dog, who is mine. He is almost like a person in the face though it is a dog face. We lean chummily on each other and watch the parade, I look over into his green-yellow eyes and laugh and say "Arf!", not onomatopoeia but just the word, and he grins and says "Arf! Arf!" back and we laugh because he is a dog pretending to make the noise we say dogs make.