| when are my dreams going to stop breaking my heart? |
[Nov. 24th, 2009|01:38 pm] |
i had one of those dreams last night that stays with you long after you wake up. it was the sort of dream that i used to tell my mother about when i woke up as a child. something that has to be shared to start to feel a little easier to bear.
in my dream, i was out at a bar with some girl friends. i don't know if i actually know the girls or if i just couldn't bother to remember their faces because they weren't really a central part of the dream. as we were walking through the parking lot on the way to the bar, we passed by a little pink bundle on the ground. it looked like a discarded baby doll. we didn't really think anything of it and went inside. i don't remember anything inside the bar. i think time just sort of skipped over it. when we came back outside, there was a man face down in the gravel next to the pink bundle. all of a sudden, he started thrashing violently, bringing his forearms smashing down on the bundle over and over again while shouting "shut up! just shut up already!" it was then that we heard the whimpering and realized the bundle was a baby. my friends kicked the guy on the ground in the ribs a few times as i picked up the baby. i can still feel how delicate and somehow miraculously undamaged it was, despite being so small and fragile. we ran away with the baby, but i don't remember much about that part of the dream aside from being searched for by the man's drunk crazy girlfriend. one of my friends pulled out her cell phone, but i can't remember if we actually called the police.
eventually, i found the baby a home with this man. i don't remember much about him aside from the fact that he was tall with broad shoulders and short, dark hair. he may have been native american. for some reason that detail sounds right. i remember watching the little boy i had found grow up. even thinking about it now makes me smile. they are the sort of memories it takes years to form, things that create this deep emotional bond. at the end of the dream, i remember standing in an enclosed field underneath a giant tree. it isn't the sort of tree i've ever seen in california, more like something pulled straight out of my brain from when i lived in connecticut. the boy was about seven or eight years old, all thing fragile-looking limbs. he had the most amazing smile and dark liquid looking eyes. his happiness meant more than anything to me. maybe i felt like i had to make up for the start of his life. i'm not entirely certain. the man who had raised him and i were helping him build a tent. we felt like it was important for the boy (who oddly never had a name in my dream) to have a space of his own, somewhere to feel safe and to be alone when he wanted to be. i think it was a gesture made more for our peace of mind than his. he seemed to be blissful and unaware of what he had been through before coming to live with this man. i bent down to help the boy with something and as i stood, i could see over the top of the tent. on the other side of the wood fence, i could see his biological parents and their four or five kids standing there. i knew they had come to take him back. i can't remember what was said between his biological parents and the man and i, but i remember this feeling of helplessness. there was nothing i could do to keep him from having to go back with them. there was this sense of loss, of having my own child ripped away from me. i was terrified that he would die with them and there was nothing i could do to protect him, to save him. the last thing i remember was kneeling down and putting my hands on his shoulders, trying to memorize every last thing about him while tears rolled down my face. i hugged him tightly, remembering that first initial feeling of love for him when he had been an infant. and then i sang to him. it sounded something like a traditional irish folk song or ballad to me and i woke up with it stuck in my head. i wrote some of the words down just so that i could get back to sleep. maybe i will try to turn it into an actual song. or maybe just a lullaby.
seriously, for some reason, i can't shake off the deep emotional weight of this dream. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 20th, 2009|02:17 pm] |
i think my dreams are trying to tell me something.
last night i had dreams about tiny children demons that fed on creativity. i seem to have lost the main narrative. at some point, telling the story of how everyone got to the underground became way more interesting than anything else. or i'm just not certain how to go about telling that part of the story. it is based in a time in my life where my head was on every direction but straight. my thinking was certainly a sort of labyrinth with no damned exit.
i wonder if going back to look at the journals from that time period if i will be able to recapture that feeling. it was all so fragmented, everything felt crucial and this strange combination of beautiful and brutal.
wish me luck, kids. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 19th, 2009|02:03 am] |
are there any activities in life that aren't made better by the simple addition of another human being? perhaps i'm just melancholy after being around the nauseating effects of my little sister and her boyfriend. of course, parents are out of town so he HAS to stay over and he has to be up early so they have to go to bed early. lame.
maybe it is just being around them that has further emphasized my own loneliness. it isn't as though i am longing for anything or anyone from my past. it isn't even about the no sex thing... which is going to start getting ridiculous any day now. funny how you never notice those little places that turn into giant gaps when you have no one around to fill them.
at least i will get to sleep in a bed full of cuddly puppies for the next few nights. this morning my jack russell curled up at the small of my back. when starbuck realized i was waking up for the day, she crept up the length of my body and pressed her nose against mine. sometimes they are so cute that it makes me remember why i often like dogs better than most people.
currently, they are all crashed out on the furniture dreaming puppy dreams full of twitchy feet. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 17th, 2009|02:09 am] |
sat outside for a bit watching the meteor shower. i might not have been looking hard enough, but i stayed out until i couldn't feel my feet and didn't see any meteors. i did get to have a nice stop and smell the roses moment. it was really nice actually.
then i realized how much nicer it would have been to lay out on a blanket with you, holding hands and enjoying the moment together. |
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| i find this song unbelievably amazing in this moment |
[Nov. 15th, 2009|12:05 am] |
I'm Gonna shine up my boots,
I'm gonna go into town,
I'm gonna scrape up 20 dollars,
I'm gonna throw it around
I'm gonna buy me a dance,
first lovely lady that I see,
And when the dance is through
I'll say, "will you marry me"
I'm gonna shine up my boots,
I'm gonna go into town,
I'm gonna scrape up 20 dollars,
I'm gonna throw it around
I'm gonna find me a game,
Of hold 'em if I can,
and fold 'em all night long,
til I got me a hand
I'm gonna buy us a ranch,
With a Palomino Herd
And I won't mean no harm,
babe and I won't say a word.
When misery comes to call,
A gift to him, my life
I'll sit with him awhile,
and share my horse, my hole, my wife
I'm gonna shine up my boots,
I'm gonna go into town,
I'm gonna scrape up 20 dollars,
I'm gonna throw it around.
I'm gonna buy me a dance,
first lovely lady that i see,
and when the dance is through,
I'll say "will you marry me"
I'm gonna shine up my boots,
I'm gonna go into town,
I'm gonna scrape up 20 dollars,
But I'll probably just drink it down |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 14th, 2009|04:17 am] |
got off work a bit before midnight. knocked out almost 3,000 words since i put down the computer and sat down with a notebook and pencil. i feel goddamned invincible right now.
feeling a little weak in other senses and starting to wonder if i'm not more than a little crazy. probably am. then again, probably doesn't matter. do i need sleep? probably.
also, what the hell is with the number of people who come into my work and try to set me up with people? i don't think i've ever blushed this much in my entire life, though validation from near strangers is oddly sweet. how do you explain that you've already found everything you are looking for and are just trying to figure out a way to make things work? (seriously, pulling a felicity is all sorts of nuts... also, i watched like three episodes of that show and i still think it is a crazy idea) i am starting to wonder if perhaps there isn't something about me that screams desperate; i'm pretty sure i manage to keep my lack of a love life under wraps at work.
sometimes, i just want to do something fiercely romantic that would only make sense in a television show or a novel. in fiction, people get away with all sorts of insanity. everyone oohs and ahhs and reaches for a box of kleenex. now how to make life imitate art as opposed to the other way around?
bottle of inspiration, insanity, or honesty... i'm leaving that one up to you, dear reader. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 13th, 2009|12:26 am] |
the contents of the box:
several pages torn from different phone books (with random words and letters circled in red sharpie marker)
two brightly colored feathers from a pet parrot
a baby tooth
four resin filled bottle cap magnets with words in them (firefly, teleportation, crossword, and woodpecker)
three old keys to doors that probably don't exist anymore
a pocket watch that only keeps the time in beijing
one of those red glass stones from a fish tank
a cd (contents unknown) |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 11th, 2009|03:34 am] |
it seems that my brain only has two settings these days: novel and boy. of course, only one of those things could be considered productive. just broke 14,000 words (so i'm only about 3,000 words behind where i'm supposed to be). i'm at 28.2 percent completion. if i can average 1,796 words a day i can still finish this one time. (i'm not actually lagging that badly and have been averaging around 3,000 words a day.... well, since monday)
i can't tell if it is depression or focus that has managed to keep me from washing my hair since saturday. i'm not particularly depressed, so i'm going with focus as my excuse. tomorrow, hair is definitely getting washed... before it crawls away on its own. oddly, my hair still smells nice and shampoo-like. what the hell?
oh and i lost a large portion of time today that could have been spent writing to designing my own set of fortune telling cards. why? because one of my characters uses them and i wanted something outside the frame of reference of tarot. very loosely based them on a set of russian fortune telling cards i once saw. got frustrated part way through because i kept falling into my symbol dictionary. i love that thing. it is impossible not to indulge every whim and look up all sorts of crazy stuff in it.
any way, sleepy time for kat.
p.s. dammit, why am i hungry at almost 4 a.m.? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 9th, 2009|05:52 pm] |
i swear, any minute, i'm going to start being productive and it is going to blow everyone's mind. we're talking ten thousand words in a day or two. or y'know... the necessary 7,000 in the next six hours (should be cake, right?).
on another note, two years of this and i'm starting to feel a little bit like i've made everything up. sure, i have proof, but what is stopping it from being like the plot of some shitty horror movie (high tension, i'm looking at you) where i killed your wife and i am your wife? (yeah, i just managed a reference to a french horror film and eddie izzard all in the same sentence.)
i'm putting on casablanca, muting the tv, putting on some music and massacring several thousand words. this whole novel in a month thing is totally going to be my bitch. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 1st, 2009|10:35 pm] |
the answer to all questions?
maybe, baby. |
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