July 5th – Pie hangover


July 5, 2010

Accept uncertainty, and certainty will arrive soon enough.  – my horoscope today (Tarot was much better news)

So I had another amazing dream last night or this morning when someone else’s alarm went off – what is it with being woken involuntarily from these amazing dreams (Jung says good dreams during times of duress are ‘compensation’ for what’s fucked up in our lives, I hear) – this one started with a group of us gathering apples to get Bill Badger to come out of hiding underground…didn’t work. We got some sort of iguana instead. But that turned into this amazing performance piece with broken airplanes and giant crows – one turned into a black cockatiel – behind a fence in a field with giant trees…and singing…the song was ancestral, primal, indigenous, all those words to relate to other than what we live in now. I was in the country and the people there were a mix of The Colony, Kanika with some of her unknown posse, Ashton Kutcher who sat down and asked me about this ’39 stuff’ (guess I regressed 5 years) and Ted’s trannies from the premiere episode he showed us last night…

The performance artists were made up of someone from New York and someone from Nicaragua and the other two exotics I can’t recall. But I do remember thinking that I wished I could do something like that, sitting in the front row at their table and looking at the weird contraptions there – I wish I could something like the thing I created in my own dream!!!! What is that?! That was my concept and it was cool as shit – at least in the dream. Like playing jazz music in a dream or speaking perfect French…translated to reality? Ah, maybe not so much…

A guy at Ted’s Independence Day party was getting his PhD in Sanksrit. I wish I could have been that kind of intellectual. Maybe if my father had seen the value of my getting into St. John’s and let me go there, I would be a high-powered political influencer right now instead of dreaming of revolution, overturning the status quo and redistributing wealth like Robin Hood instead of stuck in an industry with its HEAD up its ASS.

As I try to fall asleep at night, I get riled up about all I can do. Take over for Oprah or Barbra Walters. Gi around the country in an RV, telling better stories than Charles Kurault. Fuck, feeding myself and paying my bills without having to worry about it every fucking month. Writing about how fucked up the life of someone committed to poetry is like Charles Bukowski. Then, I fall asleep, and then, I have these amazing dreams, and then, I wake up and realize, oh, yeah, I live in the Rosslyn (until I can pay rent or have to figure something else out) where the door sticks, the water runs too hot, the neighbor across the hall is literally crazy, the dust from downtown collects on the ceiling fan, and all the electrical switches are on one side of the room. Oh, and we get three TV channels to come in on the newfangled digital signal – because they put in the cable boxes but never installed cable. I hate giving this place my money even though when I have it, I should just pay for a few months at a time so I avoid the anxiety I am going through now. But I know why I do these things – I have no framework for the future when I get back here, everything is now and there is no tomorrow until tomorrow slowly creeps in and there you have it – it smacks you in the face (sometimes while you are sleeping, so you wake up with a black eye and don’t know how you got it, the most disconcerting of all)…and then you get to freak out about why you didn’t plan better for this.

Oh, and I want to thank that economic advisor guy for saying we’re going to be fucked worse than we ever have been with no real solution in sight. Thanks for that. Why don’t you come up with an home-based business selling cyanide vials (out of recycled crack vials from the late 80s) to all the unemployed in the country? That would help. Then the people with money can have life all to themselves. But what would all the faux-hippies married to investment bankers do without their illegal Guatemalan nannies? What would they do without their hypocrisy to bolster up their meaningless lives?

Ah, well, that’s not even worth contemplating because America, as Ronald Reagan said in 1976, is a land of hope, so keep hoping you’ll get a sliver of that American pie and keep dreaming the American dream — before the alarm goes off and you realize that it’s life itself that is the nightmare.

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