January 21st, 2004.

It’s 1am, and I’m lactose intolerant.

I depend on Chelsea practicing guitar loudly, I depend on Nat playing Zelda loudly, I depend on Conan o’Brian’s audience screaming loudly. I’m sorry for my body, but the worst part of the Trip is … small houses and bathrooms that aren’t in any way separated from the rest of the Living space. I am worried that I may have vibrated the moulding. I’m just so sorry. And makes me worry about coming out of the bathroom – I worry about who might be sitting on the other side of the door – waiting – listening… fearing.

Perhaps they have to go to the bathroom too… perhaps… perhaps they have to go in there, and suffer the wrath of my ass. I’m just so sorry.

Heather’s going to kill me for typing this.

Hee hee hee.


There is night-time drama being played out in the Natty-Bo house. Mariposa, the dog, wants a warm place to sleep. It shouldn’t be TOO hard, as the heat is quite effective in this tiny house, and there is a couch, as well as our bed, which Heather tries to tempt her into… but Mari wants to sleep with Nat. Please Nat? The wet nose is pressed to the door. Nuzzlings and pushings avail nothing. And she returns to us, and Heather resumes a frantic patting, trying to attract the dog – but Mari then goes to Beau and Chelsea’s door. The head pokes in… half the body… everything but the wagging tail, which slows, and slowly droops, and then she backs out.

Heather again picks up with calling the dog, patting the bed, and the dance continues.

Heather’s reading Anne Rice, and I’m just… lying in bed, typing. I was really wired about an hour ago, and I can feel that in me, just lurking beneath the surface, but I know Heather would have no patience with it – and everyone else has gone to bed. Beau and Chelsea seemed a little unnerved when I started acting up. It’s rough when I run across energetic people – sometimes I end up playing the straight guy for a sec – and then as soon as I loosen up, they don’t quite know what to do with me.

hrm.


January 21st continues…
I woke up this morning in the clutches of a dream. I’ve been dreaming of a lot of bridges, recently – and I’m pretty sure there’s some supposed deep meaning to the whole bridge metaphor when it comes to dream interpretation – transitions, or something… but I’ve never been one who had strong beliefs in psychology. I’ve always felt that most psychology majors I’ve ever met are simply trying to work out their own issues, and they end up using their patients as their sketch-pads. I assume that going from a psych major to a practicing psychologist doesn’t change them much…

 

Yesterday, we went for a short walk in freezing freezing temperatures. Heather just finished her scarf and was very glad of it's existance. Mariposa was in dire need of toe-nail clipping, and so - we went on a MISSION.
Yesterday, we went for a short walk in freezing freezing temperatures. Heather just finished her scarf and was very glad of it’s existance. Mariposa was in dire need of toe-nail clipping, and so – we went on a MISSION.

Anywho, I’m rambling.

A couple of nights ago, it was a long, shining bridge crossing a river into Philadelphia. It was a pretty spectacular construct, and we’d missed a turn and realized that Philly was only a couple of minutes away. We were going to go visit Shane during our unexpected adventure, but we’d forgotten his phone number.

A lawn gnome for Shane.
A lawn gnome for Shane.

Last night, the dream was a little more ominous, and leaves me feeling tense. Another missed turn, but this time, it’s repetitious. We’re pretty close to home – I think it’s the 795 exit that we miss, and in the dream, that’s the last exit before this huge bridge – only it’s not a bridge – you pass this one booth and your car is transformed into – almost a canoe thing – suspended from wires like a ski-lift, and then that is what you ride across this HUGE body of water.

Beau and Chelsea showing us where the met - "I was playing HERE and he was standing about THERE." Excruciatingly sweet.
Beau and Chelsea showing us where the met – “I was playing HERE and he was standing about THERE.” Excruciatingly sweet.

Anywho, it’s the third time we’ve done this in a day, and every time we ride across, I get more nerve-wracked about crossing it. It’s kind of windy, and if you’re not just sitting still, it rocks back and forth horribly. I was so frightened – thinking that this was a really stupid way to risk our Lives.

The local pet supply store, Dogma. I'm amazed by how good Mariposa is about the whole ordeal. We're in and out before Heather and I are done playing with the stuffed hedgehogs. Of course, it can take us quite a while to be done playing with stuffed hedgehogs, but still, it was pretty quick.
The local pet supply store, Dogma. I’m amazed by how good Mariposa is about the whole ordeal. We’re in and out before Heather and I are done playing with the stuffed hedgehogs. Of course, it can take us quite a while to be done playing with stuffed hedgehogs, but still, it was pretty quick.

There was a balding fat guy in the thing ahead of us, and he’d gotten pretty bored, and was showing off – leaning way out to one side, or standing up and sort of surfing the canoe thing… I turned away once I saw what the commotion was about – I’d feel the wires jerk, and then I’d hear very distant cheering and applause from the neighbouring cars.

Eventually, I felt the wires REALLY jerk, almost throwing us out of OUR car, and a collective gasp. The man had fallen out, of course. But he didn’t scream the whole way down. It took forever for him to hit, but he was silent the whole way down.

Then I was woken up by a phone call.

Cravings, in Glen Burnie, would like to book us. On the one hand, I don’t really feel in any position to be turning down gigs – and yet on the OTHER hand – it’s right across the street from Thai Gour, and I… well, if I’m driving over there, I’d rather play Thai Gour. I doubt Cravings will compete with the Thai Gour perks – i.e. the food and the pay.

Well, I guess that’s something to discuss with Heather when she wakes up.

It’s a shower day today.


More optimistic day – we’ve gotten two emails about booking ilyAIMY (a booking agent from a club we were interested in will be coming to our gig tonight, and a guy contacted us about a singer/songwriter series in Baltimore called “A Night of Stars”) as well as that phone call from Cravings. Even if none of these items are probably HUGE deals, it’s enough to make me feel wanted.

The shower was nothing short of spectacular. I left steam wraiths in the window, twisting and whining their displeasure at the weather outside. Afterwards, I’m lying on the couch, realizing how long it had been since I had been the listener, sitting in the Living room, slowly falling asleep. Beau is picking out the melodies of half-remembered tunes, practicing finger-picking styles – I’ve forgotten whar it’s like to be the audience, curled in on myself with the dog, losing consciousness.

February 22, 2004.

Gosh, there’s a lot to take care of in the next week.  I’ve got to get my Saturn straightened out before the MVA comes and kills me, or at the very least, takes my car away or something.

Anywho – dreams, dreams.  There’s another Heather in my Life now, and I’m not sure where she came from.  Heather 1 was a goddess, a woman I dated for a year or so around the turn of the millenium.  She was a dancer, and the kindest woman I’ve ever known.  Heather 2 is Heather in the band (also a goddess), and Heather 3 (also a dancer, also a goddess – as far as I know) – is someone in the current Rocky cast that Heather 2 and I have admired from afar.

Now, on top of everyone else, there’s a Heather 2.5, who I dreamt of last night.  In the dream, she was given history that places her firmly before Heather 2, after Heather 1… and whole new Heather.  So strange.

Anywho, I dreamt that Heather 2 actually Lived in a sort of… hidden high-rise.  A little apartment building that has seven levels, and I’d never known that there was a seventh level, and it turns out that a couple of years ago, they had another girl named Heather Living in a small apartment on the 7th floor.

So I decide to go explore.

So, up the stairs I go.

The stairs lead me up on to the roof, with a pretty nice view of Baltimore, and I fumble with the key I have to the apartment, and go in to a very nicely furnished room, filled with stereo equipment, covered in dust.  The main room also has a large table, lit by an ultraviolet light, with a bunch of random items on it.  A pad of paper, a wind-up rubber band airplane, all sorts of stuff.

Into the bedroom – the bed is a simple mattress on a wooden palette – and all along the edges of the mattress are photographs.  A lot of them are things I recognize, piles of ilyAIMY cards, photographs that I’ve taken, and large replicas of Magic cards – things I recognize as being from my old house, in Kensington.

I remember being so flattered because she walked off with much of my artwork during the last days of Living in Kensington – during the whole ilyARDsale stuff… but now I had a different take, seeing them all left in stacks, months after her departure – I remembered how I had said “oh yoou’re interested in THIS?” – and almost forced those things upon her… piling her up with my work, hoping for interest, hoping for her acknowledgement.

So here I was, recollecting all of my discarded attempted flirtations.

Heather 2’s parents had told me about how Heather 2.5 had looked at EVERYTHING under UV lights, so I went back into the mainroom, and started examing everything she’d left laid out.  At this point, I have some sort of flashback sequence, revealing how the ladder shaft outside the apartment (definately based on a Star Trek Jefferies tube) was used as a place for mobsters to eliminate informers, or something.  Images of men having their fingers shattered by large men with aluminium bats…

And the whole thing turns into this weird mystery that she was trying to solve, and that I now try to piece together.

Very weird, more like one of Heather’s dreams than mine.  Full of strange false memories and false histories.

But I slept well – and feel HEALTHY!!! FINALLY!!!

May 5th, 2004.

More freakish dreams tonight – riding home with Snoop Dogg – he knew Cypress Hill and hooked me up with an illustration job doing their next album cover before dropping me off at my parents’ house where my old VW bus was waiting…

But even more freakish things awaited me in the news today:

Heather frequently drops the comment that she “never expected to Live in THIS country.” She’s referring to the current era of censorship and … is it fear of stating one’s mind? And the fact that no-one has anything to say about it… news stories just come and go and make very few ripples.

I guess the first moment where I’d really started paying attention to our native complacency was with the whole child abuse scandal in the Catholic Church… I mean, imagine what would’ve happened if children had started coming forth about rampant molestation in the Baltimore County school system… that teachers who had been discovered raping their students had then been quietly transferred to other schools where the community didn’t know them …and then the head of Baltimore County Schools came out and said “don’t worry about that, we’ve known about it for quite a while and we’ll take care of it.”

The fact that there is even the QUESTION as to whether or not Catholic sex offenders should be turned over for prosecution…

More recently, stories keep surfacing – and not on the conspiracy pages – on AP distributed news stories! I read them over lunch, and Heather goes berzerk… and we go berzerk that no-one else is going berzerk!

A couple of weeks ago it was reported that NASA scientists had been told to not comment on the science in the new disaster flick “the Day After Tomorrow”. The stated reason is that NASA didn’t want to make any of George Bush’s environmental policies look bad….

And today, Christy Lemire, AP Entertainment Writer – writes that Disney has shut down Michael Moore, refusing to distribute his new documentary, because it’s critical of Bush’s handling of 9.11. And this I can understand – companies SHOULD be allowed to decide which sort of political agenda they support… but then they give their reason: it’s not that they disagree with Moore’s point of view, rather they are afraid of endangering “tax breaks the company receives from Florida, where Bush’s brother Jeb is governor.”

Heather and I at the Mojo Room.
Heather and I at the Mojo Room.
Award for weirdest instrument I've ever seen at an open mic goes to this guy at the South Beach Cafe. Don't ask - I have NO idea what it was - sounded like a cross between a sitar and a didjeredo.
Award for weirdest instrument I’ve ever seen at an open mic goes to this guy at the South Beach Cafe. Don’t ask – I have NO idea what it was – sounded like a cross between a sitar and a didjeredo.

The world is getting unfriendly, rapidly. Good thing I’m not some sort of revolutionary.


But on the other hand, after an angry letter, Alienware has decided that the $700+ bill for my repairs were a mistake. Score for me! And I get to go back to telling people that I LOVE my computer again.