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9:22Am / 6 dec 2000 ::THURSDAY
my bed

I woke up this morning and wrote last night's dreams down. They were this:
John had a streamlined, carved, wooden goose's head and body for a prosthetic leg.

I had a favorite ceramic cup with a lid, like a small bowl-vessel. It had a greenish gold glaze. I loved this object. Treasured it. It was my favorite thing. It kept getting stolen by a man i knew. He was Ricardo-Montablan-like. He was bad.

I captured him, the theif, and wrestled my favorite cup-like-object from his grasp, and tied his hands behind his back with a bundle of rope which was hanging on the wall behind me. I then tied even more rope around his hands. He struggled and i explained to him that i would smash the favorite cup, so that he could never steal it again. He struggled even more now.

We were in some sort of kitchen. I ordered a friend to take the cup from my hand and smash it. Knowing how much i loved the cup, she hesitated. But eventually she obliged me, and smashed my cup into a crumbling pile on the counter top. Then my friend applied some kind of chop to the theif's neck, which knocked him out.

I then took a sharp knife and carved 2 squares onto the bottom of my friends' bare feet. One square per heel. It hurt her, but we both knew it was for the best.

On our way out of the building we had been in, we passed through the lobby, where there were elevators and an empty reception desk. There were 2 french girls wearing retro leater jackets and playing Kung fu. They were running and ricochetting all over the lobby, shouting out "hiyyy-yaa" and doing karate chops into mid air.

The french girls exited before us, and returned the 2 retro leather jackets to a vendor out front. This is where i saw john again, he was jumping rope, kind of, with his carved wooden goose-head prosthetic leg.

Earlier, Jenni and i were in Brooklyn, which looked like, and really was, my hometown Bloomington. We were near Washington Grade School, where she saw a sign posted for an apartment "FOR SALE OR RENT".

There were a few lamps and a TV on the ground below the posted sign, which were plugged in. We followed the electrical cords to the nearest house - a 3-story-tall old, grand Victorian home. We knocked and a woman answered. She lead us inside and up 2 flights of stairs to the 3rd floor where the advertised apartment was.

She showed us the rooms, which were filled with childrens' beds, as if to accomodate 5 or 6 children, who were strangely absent. She had only 1 daughter, who was at school. Probably Washington Grade School, it was so close by.

With all of the beds removed, this could be a nice apartment. Many windows, wood flooring. Not huge, but good enough. The woman went on to explain that she was illustrating a children's book. She gave us a small tour of the rest of the 3rd floor: the bedroom of her and her husband, and her drawing studio, which contained illustrations of a young girl, who looked like a child-version of the woman herself.

I inquired about the cost, and was the apartment for Rent or for Sale? She said she wasn't really sure... but that regardless of what it is, wouldn't i want it either way? This was strange, even in my dream.

Then, continuing in her strangeness, the woman asked Jenni "aren't you horny?". Jenni ignored this inquiry and excused herself to the bathroom leaving me alone with the woman. When she returned from the bathroom, the woman asked her again "but aren't you horny right now?". Jenni, i remember thinking, handled it very well. She said something like "oh yes at times i am but there's not much i can do about that right now, can i? heh heh."

The woman then excused herself to the bathroom. While she was gone, Jenni explained to me that she saw all kinds of prescription pill bottles on the counter in the bathroom. "BARBITUATES" she said, as if to explian the woman's strange and creepy behaviour. Then the woman came charging out of her bathroom, with a large, stone lamp base in her hands. She violently weilded it up, over her head, swinging it at Jenni - trying to strike her!

Jenni fled down the rickety, winding, Victorian stair case -- I saw this, and grabbed the nearest thing i could use as a weapon, which was a tall candlestick with a wide, round base. I ran after the woman, who was chasing after Jenni. But i got the base of the candlestick caught in the neckline of my shirt. It was stuck there, and as i descended the stairs, i struggled to get it loose. Plus, the makeshift weapon was in my left hand, while my right hand was occupied by something else- i'm not sure what. As i pursued her down the stairs, i knew that unless i got the candlestick loose from my neckline and into my right hand, i wouln't be able to skillfully strike the crazy-barbituate-horny-landlord with it.

Now we approched the bottom of the staircase, which made several turns on along the way. I saw that Jenni had escaped to the outside, and believed her to be out of harm.... because the lady had turned back towards me. She raised her stone lamp over her head as she lunged at me. Not one second to soon, i managed to free the candlestick from my shirt -but still held in my left hand- and attempted an awkward, ill-forced swing at her. I was shaky, but managed to deflect her lamp-base blow, which caused her to lurch backwards down the stairs -- and caused me to wake up, in my bed, panting in a heavy, panicked breath of fear and sweat.

10:22Pm / 6 dec 2000 ::WEDNESDAY
On random rotation: blonde redhead, q-tip, modest mouse, duet of bjork & pj harvey covering the stones: i can't get no.

last night, a friend initiated me into the Dress-Like-U-R-From-Brooklyn Club by escorting me on my first shopping experience to Old Navy where i made the following observations:
  • airport hangar sized store
  • excessively friendly help staff
  • ugly pop-christmas music
  • some sort of policy against small sizes
  • 2 items = under $25 : not just a thrift-store phenomenon
We were nearly asked to leave: as it turns out there is also a company policy against photgraphing their manequins, but we got one snapshot in. thanks, spycam.


Then, onto UO, where we spent most of our boundless energy browsing their informative and stimulating book selection. Images of BrooklynKid will heretofore be appropriately altered to effectively obscure his true identity, lest he be stalked.
...and we all thought mikeC wrote the book

brushing up on beauty
... how to apply light blue eye shadow, a simple 16-step process.

9:41am / 5 dec 2000 ::TUESDAY
This morning john rolled over in his sleep and said
   "i don't know why"
   "i don't know either", i replied.
john packing

nobu bathroom kitty
kitty watches over you in the bathroom at next door nobu.

Nobu's lighting was too dim for the spycam, but that's just as well because the pictures i could have taken of a certain dawson's creek star making out with her keanuesque boy might have broken brooklyn kid's heart. She was so consumed by co-eating pieces of sushi (two mouths, one piece of raw fish) that she didnt even notice ben affleck across the room. neither did we, of course, who can see past all those super models? remind me: why do we go there? oh, right, for the food.

[the past: view archive entry ending dec 05, 2000]
[the past: view archive entry ending nov 29, 2000]
[the past: view archive entry ending nov 22, 2000]

spycam picture du jour
november 30 2000
click to enlarge
Couple passing the time on the C train to Brooklyn.

november 22 2000
dead or sleeping?
F train station, Rockefella center. Surely he's just asleep.

november 18 2000
woman in fur drinking coffee waiting for shop to open, chinatown, nyc

october 29 2000
neon sign : upper east side, nyc

+ this kid's from brooklyn
+ djPriest = globalhobo
+ we kick ass
+ alt.sense
+ gmunk
+ a cute org = red
+ aren't we clever? yes, yes.

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