I go to a hotel room with TG and William Shatner. Shatner is talking about the date he has that night as I decided to wander away. I see my family in the dining room of the hotel and my mother ignores me. I look over to one side of where I stand and see a tour group full of masked Asians. Someone in the group mentions the “Lord of the Rings” film, and then another person in the group pukes on the ground. I see AM amble through the pile of vomit, and then a group of ROTC cadets run through it.
I wander away and find a dark area covered in graffiti. A guy shows up with a cut out stencil and asks me if he can paint it on the wall. I say “of course.” The guy sets it up on the wall and gets ready to spray the stencil. A black man in a suit comes out of a nearby doorway and yells at the sprayer. The sprayer yells back, gesturing to all the other graffiti and art that has been painted on the walls.
I wander off.
Wed., Jan. 11, Marin County
While trying to get a ticket for the Burningman festival, I get caught up in a phone scam. I meet a couple who walk in with me at the gate and the ticket they sold me is fake. Security throws me out, and a man sympathizes, handing me money which includes English pound coins.
I decide to wander to the 6pm side of the city. I see R and J at a poorly secured border. I walk over the shabby fencing and walk to an area that looks like a Middle Eastern souk (market). I see dark-skinned soldiers with long clubs and machine guns. I look over a wall and see an art installation that is a flock of huge, edible pink flamingos. I walk by New Orleans style bars and Munich style beer halls. A strange steam punk contraption appears over another wall. I go closer and look for Bishop Joey.
Wandering more alleys, the path narrows and crowds with revelers. I come out to another Burningman entrance! Outside the festival (again), I watch busloads of uniformed American soldiers exit with fanfare and enter the event for free with crowds cheering and applauding.
I wander to the 9pm side of the city. Over there, I see the LA skyline looming over crisscrossing freeway overpasses. This side of Burningman is empty. Several citizens walk by talking about the rumor that nasty winds blew down Larry Harvey’s statue of the man.
I walk back to 6pm and step over the shoddy fencing again. My phone rings. Answering, I have an elderly woman plead with me to stop calling her. I tell he I am not calling her, but we both discover that someone from the ticket scam is using my number.
Jan. 10, 2012 (Marin Co.)
My car breaks down in a poor section joust outside the loop of Southwest Athens, GA. I look at a map to try to figure out where I am going. I see my destination in the Northwest part of the loop. The map calls it “Gay District.” As I stand by my car in the slush, seeing my breath from the cold, local folks ask if they can help. As I begin to ask if they can figure out how to get me a tow truck, I think of AK and wonder if my friends in the NW of the loop are worried about me.
Jan. 9, 2012 (Marin Co.)
MG and I are in a house with other people. There are dirty dishes in the downstairs sink that need to be put in the dishwasher. After a meal, I wander off, realizing that I should have stayed to help MG. I go back to the kitchen. She cannot find detergent, so I look among bottles of poisons and chemicals. MG finds out where the detergent is, so we load up the dishwasher.
A female character from the Walking Dead goes to a back bungalow to relax and clean. Several men stand in the woods that surround the front of the bungalow. One man mumbles something and another man with long hair and glasses grumbles “You’d know better if you read more Anarchist texts!” The other guy leaves. As the long-haired man walks away, he hears a scream coming from the woman in the bungalow.
The long-haired guy pulls a gun out from the back of his pants and heads to the bungalow. Up in the trees, a simian hand holds a basketball and then drops it. Dozens more monkey hands drop basketballs on the long-haired man.
Inside the bungalow the woman continues to sweep while two other people have an intense conversation in another room.
(Simian Hands pt. 2)
A woman hears voices in the woods behind her and turns around to see a seething mass of monkeys and animals. Horrified she clutches her broom and backs through a large sliding door into a room. She tries to find protection against the wall. The animals are not paying attention to her. They look at the radio where sounds from a serial drama play out. A small ox and a chimpanzee break out of the crows and run towards the radio.
Envisioned amazing images of rocks and chunks of metal cubes dropping into deep, beautiful canyons.
I go camping with a friends, so I cut out a bottle-pieced shape of fabric. Another group of people are coming to camp with us and their tent sites are easily marked in a neat line down a patch of land. I put a zoot suit on just before they arrive. They see the suit and love it. I feel embarrassed for not knowing how to speak Spanish. A large woman in the group smiles at me. An Asian woman in the group has a small dog. “I must shit rat-sized poop!” Without saying goodbye, I take a bike home to cut out another fabric vial.
She is beautiful, fair skinned, golden haired, freckled and innocent. Her appearance entrances me yet her behavior seems to come out of fear and anxiety. I follow her around her house as if I am under a spell, and then meet her father. He stands well over six feet, looks like a linebacker, and talks fast. I try to listen to his ramblings and clearly hear him tell me “If you want to get physical with my daughter, you must first get physical with me.”
I wander away, find my friend MC and explore this amazing estate. We climb an odd metal conduit structure and wander through sunlit rooms. MC wanders off and I find the woman glowing in the sunlight.
I want to kiss her, but she recoils. Her father appears, lunges at me and pulls my arms behind my back. He leans in behind me and whispers that he gets the first kiss. He then begins to nibble my neck and lets me go. I flee.
I sit on a deck with AK, who is smoking a piece of palo santo. We discuss whether or not we want to go to a protest/concert. I drift off and begin to think about the beautiful woman. I wonder if I can steal her away from her father. Or perhaps I can kill her father and take her away from him.
I am on retreat and taking performance workshops. I sleep in a building that sits by a rocky beach along a large body of water. A fence runs along the beach and marks the retreat’s property. I can still see a beautiful beachscape on my walk to the workshops.
In the practice space, we end the session with a bit of physical improv. I sit on the floor and sip an imaginary bowl of soup. I eventually make loud sipping noises. We take a break for lunch and I sit on a picnic table while an older black woman makes a group of us laugh.
Walking back to my room along the fence, I look over to the amazing view while I set my bag down. Behind a large object that is on the beach, I see a whale tail breach the water. I get excited and run back to my bag to get my camera. I frame the shot, focus the camera, and notice the details of the scene.
Sharks are in a frenzy, eating the flailing whale. The object in front of this grisly scene is a beached whale. I drop the camera from my view and look down the rocky shore’s horizon. I see beached whales fading into the sunny haze. I look out into the water and see ships. They seem to be trying to avert the whale catastrophe.
Someone on the beach walks up to me and opens a section of the fence. An old, skinny man thanks the person and goes out to the beach where the whales are located. He is a scientist and did not have any other way to get onto the beach. I go over to him and ask him some questions, but I do not go near the animals.
As I watch the emergency unfold, I realize that I am at this retreat for a while longer. I wonder what the smell of rotting whale flesh is like, and if it will be strong.
May, 18, 2011
Recurring Dream Fragment:
A woman with long red hair keeps stealing red packs of Pall Malls out of the old pantry in the mortuary apartment’s den. I was speaking with someone near where my dad’s recliner would be. The woman walked in with an Asian man who was holding a shadeless lamp. As they walked to a van packed with stuff, she shook her head and told the man “No, it’s too much.” Then she turned and walked to the pantry, about ten feet from where I stood.
I usually do not catch her stealing the Pall Malls. This time I yelled “stop!” “Those aren’t yours, you bitch!” She grabbed them and began to walk away. I tried to chase her, but she disappeared in a dream-time blur.
I decided not to let this happen again, so took out a pencil and a piece of brown paper to leave a note to B and A. The note said, “Hide your cigs!” I couldn’t read it on the brown paper, so got a pen and rewrote the note on a piece of white paper.
This was the first time I attempted to stop her stealing cigarettes in the next dream. And the first time I actively tried to stop her.
While on a road trip with A., we stop to buy food for a picnic. A. announces that today is his birthday and begins to cry. I ask him why is he crying on his birthday and he answers “I hope that my children are celebrating it.”
My parent and I move in to a one-room apartment. I have a few possessions to move in. There is a community cafe where the customers all pitch in to help run.
My parent’s white car is in the garage.
Walking back to the apartment, I see a line of odd fish (with feet) and fish bones curving past the entrance to the apartment. The line goes to the storm drain. I walk into the apartment and it is empty. My parents are gone, and I cannot find my things. So I walk back to the cafe which looks different and is full of new people. I walk to another building and find a few of my things. I realize that this place is cursed and I need to get as far away from here as possible.
I put my butterfly knife in my pocket. I go through a chest of drawers and find a pair of my father’s glasses. Some of the drawers are in upside down. Realizing that I have lost my parents, I walk on to the street and try to hitch a ride far away.
Lock the back door.
Turn out all the lights.
Tonight a long-dead lover
comes to visit.
You must ignore the doorbell
and hope that the windows don’t get tapped.
You latched the windows, right?
The phone rings instead.
Deciding to pick it up,
you hear your sister on the line.
March 23, 2011
I walk into a train station and see AE playing keyboards in the middle of a bike repair shop. He introduces me to some of the people there and then points to a soft ball that recently went through a window. The power goes out so AE packs up his gear. We walk to the tracks to catch a train. A train pulls up and is full uniformed men. A sign on the side of the train says “for observation only. A second, one-car train arrives behind the other one and we get on.
Three men walk by three men sitting in front of a house. One of the seated men takes a pistol and shoots at the walkers. As the walkers run away, the last walker gets shot in his upper left arm. He sits down in an empty chair. The injured walker looks at his wounded arm and then sticks his right hand into the wound. Either in shock, or not phased from the shooting, he starts a conversation with the sitting men.
May 14, 2011