Porchlight

Bad day. Out of sorts. Same shit. Sigh. I can’t be happy like this. I need to re-assess the situation. Later. When I’m clearer. Throbbing headache right now. So, it’s Halloween. Yay, woop-dee-doo. I would go buy chocolate bar treats, if I had energy, money, time for such foolishness and so on. Maybe I need to see a doctor.

Mood: nasty
Drinking: cold coffee, and I’m out
Listening To: This River is Wild, The Killers
Hair: having a tenuous future

Back Home Weather

Still windy. Hail warning, though sun’s out at the moment. Another party in my dreams last night. This one not at that same club though. A house party maybe. Perhaps inspired by the house party I am to attend this weekend for my brother-in-law’s birthday. I know it’s on my mind. Having to find some entertaining (but not done to death at past parties) games. Having to find time to cook something for a pot luck affair in the middle of insane crazy day. And of course the boy is turning 40. Wow! We are growing up. I guess. Well, he certainly has. He’s still got a few years on me though, so maybe there’s hope for me yet. Perhaps I’m making progress. I get all melancholy when I think back to when I first met my brother-in-law. I think I was 13. Perhaps 14. Though no older. I think I met him the late spring just before my 14th birthday, or early summer just after. It was the first time I got drunk on Hermit’s Wine. We drank wine and ate white peppermints and told silly jokes and laughed and had a good time. Months later, in late fall, we became friends. And we’ve been ever since. It was unexpected, but completely logical that he should be family now. And we’re having a party. He doesn’t know. Don’t tell him, okay? He said he didn’t want a party. This worries me a bit. Just a smidge. He could balk. We’ll see. At least it’s not going to be a total surprise party like we did one year for my sister. That freaked her out big time! We learned a lesson there.

Mood: achy joints
Drinking: coffee with cream (the almost last of the Mexican Morning)
Listening To: Train from Kansas City, Neko Case (this is as country as I get)
Hair: something’s gotta give

Goodbye My Lover

What a weekend! Crazy weather. Wind and rain drowning out the music, the tv. Some lightning and thunder. Some wet snow and ice pellets.

Last night I dreamed about a bar that is becoming a recurring place in my dreams. It’s a new place for me. Hasn’t been around in my dreams very long. A huge night club, many rooms, dance music, though I’ve never seen a dance floor there, it’s extremely dark in there, like the walls and ceiling and floor have been painted black. Hefty cover charge to get in, like 20 bucks or something, pretty outrageous for no band nor deejay that I’ve seen. It’s the kind of place where everyone is wearing designer-look clothes. Girls in skimpy dresses and four inch strappy sandals, men in Armani. In every dream I’ve had about this place I’m always there for the first time, with someone, or meeting someone, and not feeling so comfortable, not really liking the music so much, put off by the big cover, and I go to the bar and order a glass of red wine . . . it’s $25 for a glass, an empty glass. The bartenders only mix cocktails. The place doesn’t even sell any beer. But they have wine and champagne, they just don’t pour it for you. You pay $25 for a clean glass and then help yourself to the selection from a huge counter in the ladies’ room. This freaks me out a little when the bartender first tells me, but then I think $25 for all I can drink in a swanky club is the deal of the century and I head off to find the ladies. In the past I’ve never made it through the maze of hallways and rooms, but last night I found the facilities. HUGE! Many rooms. No peeing in the pouring section. No washing hands and powdering noses in the peeing or pouring. Fuchsia walls. Plush carpets and fancy settees. Very pleasant. And I couldn’t believe the selection of wine. I poured and then went to find whoever I’m there with. Then I noticed the trays of finger foods everywhere, cheese, crackers, grapes, tiny sandwiches, cream puffs, not the usual pretzels and peanuts. It’s quite the place. Maybe someday I’ll even find out why I’m there.

Not a computer day today. Should’ve been. Lots to do. But the day was spent curled up. In bed. On the futon. In front of the tv. Listening to music. Sometimes just the dryer. Other times only the wind and rain. I made scones for breakfast. From scratch. Which is not as impressive as it might sound. Maybe pancakes tomorrow.

I’ve just realised I’m going to miss my friend’s play next weekend. Damn! Why does that always happen to me?

Tonight I practiced reading Tarot for the first time in a long time. My cards. I did the lay-out writing down what I thought it meant and then checked myself with the books. I didn’t do half bad for someone who hasn’t touched a card in about 8 or 9 years. It’s on my list you know, to practice Tarot a few times a week for . . . I forget how long, maybe a month. The idea was to get good at it again just for my own amusement, but someone found out I used to do this and wants a reading. So it’s good motivation to practice I suppose.

Sad tonight. Melancholy. This too will pass in time.

Mood: crampy
Drinking: water
Listening To: Star Witness, Neko Case
Hair: think olivia newton john getting physical, yep, it’s a headband

In My Heaven

Another late night last night. Couldn’t sleep. Anxiety in the middle of the week. Got up and worked for almost three hours. Then slept late. Of course. The dreams are driving me crazy anyway, so even sleep isn’t very restful. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Oh, it’s so frustrating.

Going home next weekend. Arrive Friday night. Leave Monday morning. A full schedule in between.

Mood: tired and cranky
Drinking: coffee, blonde
Listening To: I’m Your Man, Leonard Cohen
Hair: still attached at the roots

We Don’t Need to Be Wonderful Initially

Not the most productive day yesterday. Knee acting up. Crampy stomach. I went out in the rain and then couldn’t get warmed back up. I was pretty sleepy too. So I found myself with the heat cranked; wearing my fuzzy socks, fleece pants, a tank top, t-shirt, pull-over and cardigan; wrapped to my neck in my bed’s comforter; curled into the fetal on the futon in front of the tv. And I didn’t move most of the late afternoon and all evening. I appear to have warmed up today. My knee is still aching though.

I like Wednesday night television. There are no hollywood shows that I watch so I get to watch the CBC. Last night on the Dragon’s Den there was a woman who had seized upon Dr. Emoto’s water theory and was touting essenced water sprays. She sang to the water. I thought it was really cool, but why anyone would buy her water when we can all meditate upon our own water, is beyond me. But there are probably people who would. But other than the lone female dragon (why only one?) nobody on the panel had any idea what this lady was talking about. They thought she was a freak. Watching this show week after week, I’ve noticed that they don’t know much (or anything) about health concerns or natural alternatives or organics or anything . . . isn’t that an absolutely HUGE market right now? Isn’t that like saying they’ve never heard of the Internet for godsake? Whenever anyone comes in front of them and says anything about health conscious people reading the labels, they seem to tune out. As if the idea that people read labels is a bit absurd. These are some of the most successful and rich business people in the country. And this disturbs me somewhat. I don’t know, I just expect that if you’re going to have all this success and make tons of money, you should know something. I suppose they know stuff about the industries they are in. Obviously. Still, they’ve let a lot of good natural products go by the wayside without investing, just because they don’t get it.

Mood: so-so
Drinking: mexican morning, almost black
Listening To: Denis Waitley, The Platinum Collection
Hair: purchased new shampoo yesterday

For Reasons Unknown

Wicked crazy dream last night. It’s possible I am being influenced by the television. I’m terrified to turn it off and hear scratching in the walls at night. Maybe there is none to be heard. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Still, I’m not ready to go into the silence. Anyway, the crazy dream!

I dreamed I got a new job as a private security guard. I had to work for an ex-boyfriend/dealer and his new wife and kid. There was a security shack in the yard and I went there to relieve the day guy (I was supposed to do nights). The guy was one of my cousins, which was kind of weird, and he didn’t seem at all competent in this job as he showed me around the house and gave me the details of the nightly routine. Across the road from the house there was a lane with an old orange school bus parked in it. One of the jobs as security was to drive the bus back over the hill once an hour to check on the crops and make sure nobody was in there stealing anything. This panicked me a bit, I hadn’t realized I’d have to drive a bus and I’d never driven one before so I was a little freaked out.

While my cousin was showing me around telling me what to do, the family started to settle into their house for the evening. We were to lock them in and set the perimeter alarm. Just as we were getting ready to do that, we were attacked by a rival drug dealer and his thugs (all people I knew, in that way that everyone in a small town knows each other). I got shot with an electric stun gun. It was still daylight, a mid-summer evening, anyone driving past could clearly see what was happening. These thugs also had a bus, one of those old buses that you see in movies and on tv. The kind you’d see on a show like MASH, transporting a bunch of the locals to another village. All the doors on the bus flung open and a half dozen guys overwhelmed the house, holding the man at gunpoint and making him show them where everything was stashed. He was blubbering, convinced we’d all be shot as soon as the bus was loaded. They emptied the house and piled the inside of the bus to the ceiling in no time. As they climbed into the bus, hanging out the doors and windows, and started to pull out, the guy went crazy, running after them holding a huge brown wooden cross, pleading for God to help, crying that he was ruined. I couldn’t believe it, seemed like the stupidest thing to do, he’d get himself shot. And I wondered if that was the plan, if he was truly ruined maybe he was suicidal.

As the bus lumbered slowly down the road with him running after screaming and waving the cross, all of a sudden a line of people danced onto the road in front of them blocking their path. I say a line because that’s what it was, all these men, different ages, different sizes, holding clubs and bats and machetes and axes, shoulder to shoulder like the girls in a chorus line. They moved as a unit and they literally danced out onto the road. Not with high kicks like the chorus girls, but more like a boy band or country line dancers or the dancers from a Michael Jackson video. A line came from the right side of the road and then one came in behind them from the left and behind them from the right until soon there were thousands of armed men on the road dancing toward the drug thieves’ bus. They didn’t stop dancing as they advanced. It was like some sort of macabre musical.

I woke up before they got to the bus. Weird dream.

Mood: dozy
Drinking: coffee with a generous helping of cream
Listening To:
Hair: like a man’s receding hairline (because i had a headband on to keep the hair out of my eyes while doing physical activity yesterday, but since my hair was wet, it dried like that, and stayed that way even after the headband was removed)

I am Pissed

There may be mice, squirrels, or worse nesting in the walls of my house. Yes! I am freaking out thank you very much! Last night, I heard scratching. Upstairs. In the corner maybe, or behind the futon or tv. I made a lot of noise. I slept with the tv cranked. I googled and found people who said mice are repelled by the scents of garlic, mint, and chilli peppers . . . so I put little containers of all three everywhere, upstairs and down. I am freaking! This is it. If I have to live with fuzzy creatures, I will be moving soon as the lease is up in May, if I don’t break it and leave right now.

There are no signs of an invasion in my kitchen where such things will congregate. No nibblings. No poop. I’m praying this is going to be okay. Natural repellents for these things? Anyone? Anyone? I so do not want to get into the whole crises of having to trap and kill these bastards on my own.

Mood: apprehensive
Drinking: water
Listening To: fingers flying over the keys
Hair: damp