Happy Halloween ya kooks!!!!
Happy Halloween ya kooks!!!!
if the concept of an orgasm doesn’t creep you out at least a little bit then you’re not asking yourself the right questions!!!!
Yesterday I befriended a pioneer family downtown and Kerwin was on hand to document the moment for posterity.
Last night I had a dream that the cigar box where I keep all my photos was on fire.
I watched my past turn to ash!
What is going on??
I keep dreaming that I’m alone inside Lone Fir Cemetery at night. It is raining and behind me the road is dark and wet and it goes deeper into the forest. When I look ahead I see the way out. There is a light there and I walk and walk but I never get through the gate. I can’t orient myself between the gate and the darkness behind me, and so it feels like I am never moving. Sometimes I turn around and start walking towards the darkness. It keeps on raining and I don’t hear anything or think anything. None of this bothers me. If I hit a lucid state, and I know I am in a dream cemetery, then it is always my wish that I never have to leave it because of how comfortable and safe I feel there.
In the real world I will have intentionally set my alarm several hours before I actually need to be awake, and so when it goes off I am flung out of the dream cemetery and back into my bedroom. If I don’t feel like waking up, and I hardly ever do, then I will hit snooze and go to another dream. I’ll repeat this process dozens of times—one dream after another, separated by nine real-world minutes. Sometimes the dreams are very short and sometimes they are very long.
It is a safe bet that once I leave the cemetery I will end up in some other place that I know well. Usually it is my grandmother’s condo in my hometown. I wake up on the couch in my pajamas. Outside there is four feet of snow on the ground and it is still coming down hard. I search the apartment for my grandmother but I can’t find her in any of the rooms. I open the front door and a pile of snow floods into the entryway and I use the door to push it out again. Once I know for sure that I am alone, I start building a fire.
I really did live like this for six weeks last December, and so my dream is an amalgamation of all those weeks condensed into one sad day. Sometimes I know this when I am dreaming and sometimes I don’t. I can’t remember which one is worse.
I dream about people too. Usually these dream people are gone forever. I dream about my friend in Baltimore and my friend in New Orleans. I dream about my friends in Nokesville who are no longer alive. I miss all these people very much. This is the only way I get to see and talk to them anymore.
Strange, then, that when I wake up from all this, and I go walking around real places and talking to all the real people there, I can’t get any of it to feel as real as my dreams!!
What does this mean?
Am I in big trouble?
Service industry workers should be paid time and a half on Halloween
Well, I’m out of retirement. I’m doing clinical trials again. I told my agent, I said, “I’ll do it if they really want me back—but I’m not taking any experimental medications.”
I’m done with that stuff. I’ve had enough. If I thought about it, I’ve probably taken a dozen experimental medications, all of it many years ago now . . . and I also took some medications which were already FDA-approved, like Lunesta, which is a sleeping pill you’ve probably heard of. I was once, yes, paid to sleep all weekend. It paid a lot. It was good sleep. Those were my salad days, but I can’t do it anymore. I need this body. I think maybe I felt I didn’t back then.
And so now, in the winter of my discontent (lol), I spend my days filling out forms and joking around with receptionists. They seem to like me over there at the clinic because I have a sense of humor about all the dark and heavy things we have to talk about. I mean, hell, you’ve gotta.
I told them that too. I said, “If I couldn’t laugh about this stuff, I’d go nuts.” I said this to a psychiatrist, who I guess is now “my psychiatrist.” He’s a hell of a guy. We were talking and he was writing everything down. It was raining hard outside. His office was mostly windows and so I watched the rain and I answered all the many questions he asked me. I kept apologizing to him. I said, “Now, I know this paints a dark picture, but hey, it ain’t all bad,” and he said he understood. When he was finished he closed my file and then he took me back to the lobby where they gave me the questionnaire you see above.
If you must know, I answered “1” for both questions. That’s not so bad, I don’t think.
They have told me to come back once a week for six weeks. At the end of it they’ll cut me a check. I have already signed for this check. I am ready to receive this money. By the time I get that money it will almost be Christmas, and I will use it to buy Dante a cat tree, and then I’m going to use the rest to pay off my credit card.
Hah! Man. Whoa. Sounds nice to be Dante. Sounds pretty bad to be me!
yo what’s up with people who can afford to travel
or have furniture in their house
what’s going on with that