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crazy adventure dream
So I think this dream I had last night turned out to be a interesting if not a little crazy and moderately frightening. I’m going to state it in the first person because for once, I was actually a player in this cerebral drama. And I will try and tell it in more of a story-telling format than a ‘hey guess what I dreamed last night.’
I’VE BEEN TRAVELING FOR A WHILE NOW down a stretch of unknown highway in an unknown part of the country with absolutely nothing interesting to look at.
Except.
There is a rundown but working gas station approaching on my right. Why not, I’ll stop in, maybe top off my dinky little station wagon, bathroom break, and buy some water for the rest of my trip to nowhere. I enter the one toilet bathroom and freshen up as I open the door to leave I hear men talking in angry voices that are growing louder by the moment. I peek out the door crack to the unreal image of three men holding up the old man behind the counter for all his money.
It’s okay.
These things happen, I’ll just stay quiet here.
Turn out the light.
The old man just gave them all the money.
No trouble.
No problem.
Then one of the three men shoots him dead in the chest.
Oh my God.
I have to get out.
I look around in the little recess of a hallway that the bathroom is located in.
EMPLOYEES ONLY
Storage room, that’s good. There should be a back door and I parked my car around the side so it should be an easy shoot..
Shot…
It should be an easy dash, not shot. It’s better not to think about that word right now.
I ease the door open as gently as I can, no squeak. Good. I crab scuttle to the storage door and squeeze through it while keeping a wide eye on the three men as they lounge about shopping for snacks and sweets. The storage room is a box piled on either side with more boxes. I squeeze quickly through to that blessed back door and hurl myself into the driver’s seat, praying the old cluncker and I both live long enough to make it to a police station.
I adjust my mirror, old habits stick even through adrenaline pumped episodes of terror, which is fueled to maximum capacity when the adjust reveals a fourth man crouched in the back. Just behind the passenger seat. His knees are crunching on a plastic bag of clothes as he smiles and points a knife at me.
He tells me we’re going to have some fun before he takes me inside to kill me. I reach for the gun hidden next to my seat. I’m traveling alone, I figured I might need it. Best insight I’ve ever had in my life. I pull out the big silver pistol and point it at him. Close to my chest and a little scared about my preparedness to follow through with my threat.
This little man smiles bigger, calls me sweetie and moves closer. I hear a bang. I thought I had the thing pointed towards his shoulder.
I got his heart.
I’m more terrified than I was. I just killed him. The man with knife ready to rape and kill me and I’m shaking with horror that I just took his life. I panic, the other men might have heard. But I can’t just leave him in the back, bleeding out, dead. He is near the door.
I jump out, yank on his still warm corpse until he tumbles into the dirt. I knock his feet aside, lock myself in the car and floor it.
to be continued
Celebrated John Waters’ birthday by walking to the library and borrowing his books. (Crackpot and Role Models.) I’ve collected some great quotes of his on reading, but this is probably my favorite:
We need to make books cool again. If you go home with someone and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them!
Science tells us the deeper we look into the universe the farther back in time we see. Yet we can only travel forwards in time here on earth. What if we could go back? Not in the way of Jules Verne with moving our physical bodies into events that have long expired but to look back as we do with the universe. Can we not rewind that old magnetic tape of time and peer upon the viewing screen of history?
Or perhaps, there are already some beings who can.
They say cats can see things humans can’t. The dead, invisible monsters, angels, the list can go on for an eternity. Perhaps they can see all of those mysterious bits and bobs that frighten children under their covers and adults into the arms of lovers. Perhaps all that lazing about the house is just energy compensation for looking at rewinded time whilst the present trudges onward to the front lines of the future. The past, like cats, is complicated and our mortal recollection is of what previous generations tell us. Which in every respect could be a total lie just so they can play the hero to their adoring offspring.
Observing the past would take time and patience to watch events unfold. Unending staring into events that people may have preferred to be left forgotten and other moments that should never be spoken of.
The cat in this image, what does he see? His attention is primed. Perhaps the tiny mice running the cogs of his cat-like intellect are pulling the levers and twisting the dials of his internal time machine to see spirits. Perhaps those are the only remnants we truly have left of our contrite history.
How To Steal Like An Artist (And 9 Other Things Nobody Told Me)
10 things I wish somebody told me when I was in college.
When Austin Kleon has things to say about creativity, being an artist, and getting your work out there, you best listen.
Thanks, John!
worst day this month
at least this completely botched attempt at being on time and product happened at the beginning of the month so here’s to hoping I’ve fulfilled my monthly deductible already.
The plan: finish my last bit of edits on my first stop motion film early in the morning, hit up my hour class, then finish rendering and gathering the various tiddly bits of film, squeeze them together for real-time doll movement, slap in some whimsy music and go to class
Actuallity: failure. I skipped that [somewhat important] class to finish editing. Started to render the bits - which proved to be more like buckets of steaming slowness withering any hope I might have been cultivating for being On Time. Class time came and went - about an hour, forty ago. And surprise, I’m still in [another] computer lab toiling away at this awful mac as it renders together each individual image [some 2500 of the little buggers] so I can squeeze the video down to real time.
I’m missing my fellow videographer wannabe’s videos and mildly freaking out with the very [unfortunate] reality that I may not have this finished before 6 - the class’ end - my senioritis is really hurting me in my final semester.
I should buy one of those electric dog collars and set it to my phone alarm so whenever I write that little brain bubble to remember that I need to do something starting at this apparently important time, it will zap me 5 minutes in because I probably haven’t moved yet…….
how sad that I have to resort to masochism in order to get my butt in gear. :(
Goldfish Memories
so I’m a bit ashamed that I’ve just recently remembered about this blog thingy. But now that I have a somewhat less vague idea of what I want to do career wise, I’m going to focus on comic booking and my anticipated slow and arduous journey into that realm of super heroes and their snazzy flashy super villain friends.
I will also strive to be more flourishing in my pixelated penmanship and flowering my words of river running sentences.
Though that last sentence probably doesn’t make sense, I’m currently suffering from hunger pangs of an angry stomach so this entire idea runs the risk of being entirely forgotten once I chomp down on some dinner (0_o)
Can’t say I’m not honest at least
