GETTING OLDER

Getting old is something
That you get used to

I don't even feel these
Reading glasses on as I

Write this and think that
I may be able to handle

This aging thing better
Than expected when

I first started to realize
My sight was going

I thought my eyes
Were blurry from

Allergies and yet
Maybe it's true;

Maybe I'm allergic
to youth

DULL DREAMS

I had a dream last night that, now that I'm past it and it's nighttime I probably won't remember, but I didn't like the dream, it had my parents in it and my father was very negative and my mother was backing him up... That's supposed to happen but not against me... I had said something that I thought was deep and he mentioned to her that it wasn't deep at all... A father can do that, pull you right out of depth and let you know it's nothing but shallow contemplation, and yet contemplating is, in itself, depth but damn I wish I could remember the dream... It was very negative and that's been happening a lot lately... Bad dull dreams are worse, sometimes, than nightmares...

This was a double-feature dream and the next one had to do with my friend who is, or was, an actress back in the day and she was showing me around somewhere, like some kind of pond and it was the end of the world, or past the end, sort of a diminished beginning and she knew the ins-and-outs of this pond and that's all I remember, I should have written it down earlier... That'll teach me...

TRY

TRY

RAIN IS COMING

There are times
When I'm so low
I realize exactly

How my life is going
How it's been and what's
Coming

Usually when it rains
I hide and realize
I never took sunshine
Very seriously

I need to make a
Fresh start but
I haven't even
Started 

THE OTHER

Funny thing how
When I feel great in
The morning I

Usually do too
In the afternoon

But then in the evening
I'm down, irritable, and blue

And the opposite occurs
If I feel lousy in the
Morning and
Worse in the Afternoon

Then by night I'm fine,
Shining like the sun that
Hides so

I basically live in
A constant state of fear that

I'm gonna feel one way or
The other, other than how

I'm feeling

WAY DEEP DOWN

Way deep down
I'm a neat nick
And a clean freak

But I hate to
Shower and
My house is
A mess

Piles of stuff
Everywhere there

Just isn't any time
To put it anywhere

Nor's there a place
To put it so I'm

A failed
Neat nick and

A filthy
Clean Freak

DAD AND JOHN LITHGOW

Funny when dreams take family members and put them into the life they have nothing to do with and what the dreamer is all about. I love movies and interview actors and actresses and write reviews and my father likes movies okay but is, or was, in the golf industry. So in this dream my mom has the television on and it's my dad in a movie with John Lithgow. They're both in a car and my dad is passenger. They're partners, somehow, maybe salesman, mobsters, or both. Lithgow is doing a lot of the dialog but my father has a line or two and delivers them nicely. He's young and handsome, and seems right for the big (or in this case, small) screen. And of course I'm shocked by all this. My mom quips, "He hates this one," meaning the movie. My dad's there, embarrassed and not commenting. I ask how on Earth this happened, but get no answer. And the dream ends as I'm trying to record the dream to share to my "friends" on Facebook, but something's going wrong... It won't record... Then I go back, rewinding the tape to find dad's part, and can't find the scene...

IMPENDING JAIL DREAM

God awful dream last night. I was waiting to go to jail. An impending five month sentence to be ruled the next morning. I'm stressing about it, complaining to my parents, trying to find a way out. Suddenly it's nighttime and I realize I can't call my lawyer. Maybe, I thought, he could try some sort of last minute plea. I'm really scared during this dream. In real life I'm claustrophobic so I can't, within the dream, imagine how I'll survive a five month sentence. I'm not afraid of those cliche things like getting raped or beat up or any of that jazz. Just the fact of being locked up for five months is what's killing me. And all the things I'm used to, my routine... going to the bathroom, putting on my clothes, watching TV, walking my dog... will be gone. So I'm really stressed and complaining and my mom, at one point, says, "Just serve your sentence and stop complaining." The bitch. And my father is laughing out loud, because he'd told me I should have paid for a better lawyer, which he'd supposedly suggested. And by the end of the dream, it's morning... I'm about to find out my sentence (I have a ray of hope that the judge will let me off, although the information within the dream is that we'd made this deal long before)... And then the "show" ends. That's right, it was all part of some sort of TV show and the ambiguous ending was a realization that I probably went to jail. But I'm awake now and feeling under the weather but at least I'm free. Although when you're sick in this kind of hot weather, it feels like a prison sentence. Perhaps that explains the dream or the reason for its impetus. 

MIME

The less I speak
The better I am
In social situations
Or around beautiful
Women so
Perhaps I should
Become a Mime
Full time

DEATH OF TREE ROSE

Alas, the rose that grew leaning against the tree from THIS PREVIOUS POST is dead...

Like a mutilated corpse in a zombie film, the rose lay next to a can of chewing tobacco. Nature verses white trash and in this particular case, white trash wins...

JUNK MAIL DAY

It's a junk mail day
Nothing in the box
But ads and rocks
Like on Halloween
When those ladies
Who conserve water
And ride around
On jangly old bikes
Hand you an apple
Instead of candy

DREAM CROSS PROMOTION DREAM

Going back to the first thing written on this blog. A dream about wanting to ditch a church trip (I used to go on them in high school and wasn't happy and would rebel against the youth pastor, smoke pot, cigarettes, other fun stuff)... Again I'm on a church trip and the leader wants to keep me in line. We're in a big room and he's passing out papers for what seems like a test. The room is cold and boring and stuffy and suffacating, liken to an Orwell novel. I'm next to my friend Curt and Curt brings up how I'd wanted to escape the first time. That is, he brings up that dream I'd written down: the plan was to not go hiking up a big mountain but instead stay back with the locals and party in the river. This rarely happens and I had to write down that one dream was mentioned in another.

Well during this particular story, a weird thing happened, even for a dream. My nephew (who has had trouble with drugs in his life) goes up in front of the group and is tying to tell them to quiet down... The youth pastor, arms folded, is watching proudly (when he's not turning around making sure I don't act up) and I realize my nephew's about to give a sermon. Nervous behind the old wood pulpit, he's trying to tell people to quiet down so he can start, but is having trouble. And then, heavy metal music plays, and I walk up towards the front of the room and my nephew is playing air guitar. I'm embarrassed for him. This is some kind of bizarre performance art thing: but people, especially all my friends (people are added now that weren't there before), are into it. "Beats a boring sermon," says someone.

Before all this happened, when the pastor was passing out the papers and Curt and I were sitting there discussing our plan to escape, I remember a moment of clarity hit me and when Curt mentioned we should steal a van to head home, I said, "No, we can't do that. We will simply learn from this and never go on a church trip again." Then I said, "You went to prison" (which he did in real life for selling acid) "and you, of all people, know we just have to wait this out. We've been here longer than the time we have left."

SOBRIETY

I keep time

Metronomic
Rhythm

And when that
Beat goes away

I'm in this
Sort of

Gloomy
Mood sway

And really
Need a

Head Change

PURGATORY

Again, not much sleep
And lying there
On the couch
All night
My head's dead &
Nerves jittery is
Like being in an
Uncomfortable
Purgatory
And I much prefer
A comfortable
Purgatory

COUCH

Sore Sunday
My shoulder
And Back in
Pain from
All night
No, not tossing & turning
There's no room for that
On the couch but
Just wishing & hoping
To fall asleep

LAST PAYPHONE

Here's the last payphone on Earth, his back up against the wall, eyes closed with fingers crossed, waiting

ANOTHER

Another morning
This one Saturday
Didn't get much sleep
Can't remember any
Dreams
I think I had one or two
And now I'm awake, it's
Not even 8 so
I'll watch more TV &
Hopefully fall asleep until
Another afternoon

TREE ROSE

Found this interesting & a bit sad too: A rose grown leaning against a tree...

WOEBEGONE

Woebegone I
Much prefer to
Woebestay

JUST HER THERE

I have rhythm in my
Shoes as I walk around
With dignity I'm
Always looking for that
Beautiful girl far off who
I'll never catch but a glimpse of
Yet her impression or
Mere existence will dictate
How I'm feeling &
What I'm thinking &
Why I'm still
Breathing

BACKYARD PARTY

I could go out

I don't need to be a
Recluse

My friends, who are
Older like me

Middle age and
Drinking, free of

Crisis they have backyard
Parties with beer and sunshine

Children wobbling inside the
Living rooms and

Their teenagers walking in
Then out with their

Busy friends who cringe
At the site of adults like

Vampires to crosses or
Moths to Flame I could 

Surely go out to a party and see
The friends I used to have when we

Were so much younger I could drink and
They would listen and laugh like when

We were all in the same place before
We had our own backyards

A TECHNICALITY

She's on her way to
The park, walking along

The hot sidewalk in a
Blurry hurry...

God, I'm much too old to
Look at these

Young summer girls

FRIDAY THE 13TH

Another
Afternoon

It's Friday
The 13th

Nothing's happened
So far to lead me to believe

Today will be
Any different than tomorrow

Or tomorrow's
Yesterday

MEMORIES OF HER SILENCE

It's soothing

The Memory
Of her Smile

It's moving the
Impression of her

Lips that don't
Talk or Preach

In that place of
Reveries where

Beauty, not
Opinions,

Can reach

MAZE

For I am stuck
In a sinister maze
Around every turn
Is another corner
Around every corner
Another nowhere

CHECKOUT

At times I cannot
Even go out to buy
Something at a store
For fear of the workers
At the checkout for
They too hate their lives
But their jobs even
More

FAT WOMEN OF THE SUBURBS

I'm really
Sick of seeing

The fat wives along
The avenue

Standing like
The women of

Colonial times
Tough and proud

Intrusion
Not allowed.

I want to
Meet their lithe daughters

Before they too become
These obese guardians

Of the street

DOG THROW

At the park
With my dog

She chases
The tennis ball
I throw and

Doesn't want to
Bring it back
But see

She's on a leash;
I keep it on so

I have control and
She's in reach when

She runs back with
The ball I can

Pull her back and
Grab the ball and
Throw it out again.

And now you know
My daily routine

Twice or even
Three Times Before

The sun hides
Behind rooftops

I run my dog
Ragged

So she can
Sleep.

CRAIG T. NELSON WANTS ME DEAD DREAM

This one's weird. I'm walking outside of where an outdoor concert's being held beyond a fence. This is off a city street or boulevard and rushing cars make it dangerous so as I'm walking along with a friend I tell one girl who's standing on the curb, "Why not just walk up to the fence to see the concert." Suddenly a scolding deep voice from behind goes, "And then I lose money because of it." Turns out to be someone who's in charge of (or works for the person in charge of) the concert itself, and this girl standing by the fence is somehow liken to illegally entering the concert grounds, and it's my fault for giving her permission. And that man behind me is actor Craig T. Nelson (with a persona more STIR CRAZY than POLTERGEIST). He's pissed but seems more like a persistant mind-gaming bully. I feel ashamed and say (lying), "Oh God, I'm in trouble with my favorite actor" without looking back. Which doesn't work. We all go up to an office or apartment and Nelson keeps fucking with me, verbally not physically, and making my life (within that contained moment or moments of the dream) a living hell. I tell my friend I'm going to call whoever really runs the concert to complain about this treatment. Before that I guess I'd done some strange things in the apartment. I barked like a dog and did some standup comedy routine jokes, and Nelson says I basically lost legitimacy because of those antics. "Who'd want to listen to you now?" But I stick to my guns (or gun... with no bullets) and walk down the stairs and go outside and Nelson is following me, I think.

STRANDED DREAM

Another one of those stranded dreams. Have them a lot. Usually I'm overseas and realize I have to fly (hate to fly in real life) and am stuck somewhere. But this was some kind of camp and we were in some rural place and I wanted to go home, went out to get my car and a bunch of killer bugs or wasps came out and killed director John Huston. I had just the other night watched TENTACLES so perhaps that was the connection. I wanted to go home and it was daylight and I kept asking for directions but the road from the camp was difficult to see the night before when  someone gave the directions and that was right before John Huston was killed so the next day, under the sun, I felt I had to leave and that it would be safer in daylight but the dream ended before I got directions and again, I was stranded.

RIVER WATER DREAM

A strange dream that was also a good dream. There was an outdoor area liken to a mountain resort. Beneath the mountains where the people camp and buy things. A building low to the ground where inside people are doing meditation and yoga. My friend, actress Sally Kirkland, who I haven't spoken with for a little while, is in the class. She crawls over and tells me she's invited Andrew Dice Clay to be a meditation partner. I'm looking around the people squatting and humming and moaning and looking for Dice, but can't find him. Sally says he's a real kick in the pants and recites a joke he'd told her. God if I could only remember that joke. Dialog in a dream's the first thing forgotten.

I then go around the building where there's a big river and waves crashing like rapids and people are enjoying themselves, and I'm in there too with all these locals to whom this place is home, and I say (paraphrasing), "I can't believe this place." I guess my wry tone evoked something and they say, "What do you mean?" And as I look at the clear blue (very blue) water I tell them, "You must understand, I'm used to Orange County Suburbia where I sit inside my house watching TV all day." They smile as the water bandies back and forth and we're having so much fun. It's like Heaven. 

But really it's a camp and I have a "sudden realization" that tomorrow we're (I'm part of a church group and Larry, the leader, is a nice guy but strict and anal) going hiking up the mountains. But I tell myself, "No way, I'm staying here and having fun in this river with these friendly people... Forget about hiking and camping and wiping my ass with rocks."