Friday, March 10, 2006

'My 17 Years as an Unauthorized Jew' (The Good, section 1 part 3: Father)

My parents had a strange argument when I was around 5 - 6 years old. Views about Adolph Hitler in our town ranged from one extreme to the other and there were very few taboos about exchanging opinions on the man. My father's argument with my mother was that "Hitler did a lot of bad things, but he did some good things too." I remember my mother verbally smashing him down with something along the lines of:

"Gordon...if we were living in Nazi Germany you wouldn't have me...Is that what you want? I'm a twin and you know what they did to twins."

My father's usual retort was "Oh...Lorene...". but I think he answered with something like, "all I'm saying..."

My mother would keep after him and want him to answer whether he wanted to lose his wife or not under the circumstances of having Hitler in power. This was a short lived argument, and I can't remember my father bringing the subject up again after that day.

He never talked about the disastrous events of history, and if our family watched a special television program about some war or atrocity all he would express was his feeling that those kinds of things should never happen.

Posted by Stan on 03/10/06@06:39 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

DREAM: Old Apartment

I was in an old building like a two-flat. It was sort of like my grandparent's house in Massachusetts, sort of that Victorian era. I was in the second floor and sleeping on a rollaway cot or a couch like I did when I visited their place (which was probably twice in my life). It was like I was living there with Stan, except we were moving. I remember staring at a window in another room from my bed, and it had sort of elaborate window decorations...very Victorian. I could also see the exterior from the house simultaneously (you can do that in dreams), and the house was painted light purple and yellow, sort of like the paint job on a couple houses next to eachother about a mile or so away from where we live IRL (IRL, one of these houses appears to have nearly the exact original floorplan, or at least original exterior look, as our house*. I remember one scene in this dream where there was a moving man taking the stove out of the apartment with one hand. And this guy was older, maybe mid 50s and sort of stocky. I was amazed at his ability. Then later in the dream Stan was gone doing errands, but his half-sister J__i_ was there. She opened up the window with the Victorian treatment to let some air in. There was music or the radio or tv playing. Then there was a rapping at the door. I was sleeping during this (in the dream I was sleeping) or halfway dozing. When she heard the rapping on the door, she closed the window. She did not answer the door. I was figuring she was afraid to answer it for some reason.

*There are three houses we've found in town with this look, including ours. One house is on Gorham Street about a mile away, and the other is on a side street near Bernie's Rock shop--that's the house that's painted purple and yellow. The purple and yellow house is next door to a house painted in the same color scheme, so we figured its owned by the same people. Unfortunately, they also added a salmon or reddish orange color to the trim job, which makes no sense from a color design point of view. I mean yellow and purple work fine as complimentary colors, but throw in a tertiary color there from left field...what on earth were they thinking? Anyway, the Gorham Street house has a nice sage green with darker shades of green or brown paint job. It appears to have the least amount of remodel work done. The purple and yellow house has had some remodel work done in back, adding some extra room on the second floor, however the front part looks original. Ours has had the most remodel work done on it, both advantageously and disadvantagously. Had it been original, it would be much more cramped especially on the first floor. Extra room was added in back to extend the kitchen (that's the first thing we're fixing if we ever win the lottery which we never play), and the front porch was completely enclosed. I actually like this extension in front, which is where half our living room is. Those additions were done in the "modern" era (40s? 50s?), but there is a strange addition that was done fairly recently after the house was built in 1908. From looking at the other two homes, it appears that one side of the house (where the master bedroom is that used to be the dining room) used to stick out much less, probably sort of in a bay window style. When we completely gutted the master bedroom to make it liveable, there was evidence of the original exterior walls outlined on the ceiling. I wish I knew more about my house and who built it. The two houses on either side of us are more similar to eachother, and are younger (1910 or so). Houses across the street all resemble their next door neighbors. But ours is unique in this neighborhood. And the colors? Well, we had to work around our roof color, which is green (ugh). The base color is "frangipani" which is a pale creamy yellow. It is trimmed with "baked clay" and "taupe". On the second floor where there's a division created in the architecture we change over to "dutch coco." It has sort of a southwesterny/victorian/fall color scheme. Our next door neithbors houses are grey and tan vinyl sided (ours is restored original and new wood), so ours cheers it up quite a bit.

Posted by Ann on 03/10/06@09:18 AM CST ..::Link::..A Whisper Inside.

Thursday, March 9, 2006

DREAMs: Glowing Boomboxes from the Grave, Pants from Hell and Tumor Ladies

I was in a room that looked like my parent's living room. There was an object over by where their old stereo is, which looked like a large CD boombox, except it processed things like printed out paper. It was lit up with a bunch of amber lights and was very hot. It had a fan going going to cool the system off. Evidentally it had been running for a long time and no one had bothered to turn it off when not in use. Then I got a strange call from someone who I knew from high school but IRL had committed suicide over 20 years ago. He said that he had been using this thing and had left it on for me. I don't know if this is part of the same dream or not, but I was also watching a DVD (which came on a white 3.5" diskette...you know, like for Mac systems pre 1999. I don't know what the DVD was about in general, but part of it contained very glammy rocker scenes like from Velvet Goldmine (but it wasn't Velvet Goldmine). Then I was in a very weird situation where I was at a table with a bunch of snooty women around 50 years old. They were discussing cloves, and one had a "clove pod" that she pulled out of a teapot. It was a weird thing shaped sort of like a coccoon. It was white, but not because of color, but because it was glowing. I asked the woman who was talking about it whether it was burning which was why it was glowing, or whether it was influoresence. Now that I'm awake, I realize that influoresence has to do with flowering, what I probably meant in the dream was phosphoresence. No wonder why the woman looked at me strangely.

In another dream, I was sitting on the front steps of my house with Stan and probably Tim. There were a bunch of young high-school aged girls around that were giggling and acting silly. Then a man came up to the door making a delivery. I asked him what it was and said that someone had to sign for it. I think Stan signed for the package. Then the delivery man went on to explain that it was a pair of jeans from Stan's high school football team and that he was selected to keep the jeans for a year. (WTF?) Tim and I had a big laugh over that. Later, I was in a room that looked like my parent's den. I was lying on the floor with an aquarium filled with lizards and geckos. Stan was figuring out what to do with the pants.

In another dream later that morning I dreamt I was at a cheap restaurant or diner...maybe even outside on a patio. I was sitting on the table, so it must've been a very casual place. I was with Stan and someone who I think was probably Tim, but I don't know. Both of them were ordering drinks (drink drinks...IRL Tim cannot consume alcohol because of his condition...well, I can't either for that matter, but my condition won't kill me...just make my jaw hurt) The waitress was most scary. She was either my age and looked older or maybe she was around 50. She was very tall for a woman, brown hair that was moderately long but worn in a swept up style, glasses I think and moderately thin. She was like a Frankenstein version of an NPW* History teacher I had one semester. The most freaky thing about her was that despite the fact she was fairly thin, she was wearing some lowcut shorts and a shirt that exposed her stomach. At first it appeared she was pregnant, however she was too old for that. When I got a glimpse of her stomach, it was disturbing. There was an initial large bulge that was rather jaundiced colored, and on top of the main bulge there was a bulge on top of that that was reddish colored. Not only was she gross to look at, but she took the orders from Tim and Stan and just totally ignored me. I was pissed about that and when I get pissed in customer service situations both IRL and in dreams I tend to talk to the pisser in a very overly sweet voice...a sarcastically sweet voice. So I ask this woman if I could order as well. She comes back to our table and says something like, "not if you're going to talk to me that way." I told her I would like to order and she asks me what I want and I say a Cherry Vanilla Coke. She says they don't have any (this place looked like they specialized in stuff like Cherry Vanilla Cokes) so I order something else, but I forget what. Later she returns with our drinks. Stan's and Tim's drinks look so good, and mine looks so bland, so I grab Stan's drink to indulge myself for maybe one sip, but the drink turns to a tube of chocolate disk candy (Werther's?).

*That's Ann and Stan for Nasty Piece of Work

Posted by Ann on 03/09/06@08:44 AM CST ..::Link::..17 Screamers.

Wednesday, March 8, 2006

New Corpse

Electric Dog Toy Reflections Going Down Little Boxes

Posted by Ann on 03/08/06@02:15 PM CST ..::Link::..2 Screamers.


No, I can't drink anymore

Not because I'm an alcoholic. Not because I got a DUI or other ticket. Not because it interacts with medication. Not because it makes me a nasty drunk. None of those things have ever happened to me.

It's because it hurts. Literally.

It started happening a few years ago very randomly. Every once in a rare while I would get a pain in my jaw right under my ear. It was a very sharp pain, not a muscle pain, but more like a tingling nerve pain. But it didn't happen all the time, and at first it was a bearable hurt. Eventually, it started happening a little more frequently with a little severer pain. But I figured when it happened I was also having spicy Mexican food. Maybe it had something to do with that. It didn't happen when I had a beer at home. But eventually it started even happening with the beers. And what once took an hour or more and a whole big Margarita to take effect now happened after smaller and smaller doses. Now even after a very small serving of wine (less than a wine glass full) it will happen. It happens whether I eat food or not with it. It happens with every kind of alcohol. Beer, wine, liquor.

Well, ain't this just the pits? It's not like I'm a bad drunk or abuse liquor. I just want a drink with a meal when I go out every once in a while, or to share a beer at home with Stan every once in a while. I'm such a minimal or modest drinker and I can't even enjoy that. It really sucks.

Next time I go to the doctor, they'll inevitably ask me how much liquor I drink a week. Each year my answer has been getting smaller and smaller. Now I'll tell them "none." And I won't feel good about that because studies have shown moderate drinking is actually better for you than no alcohol at all. I'll tell them about my jaw pain under my ears, and it'll be like the old joke:

"Doc, it hurts when I do this."

"Then don't do it."

Posted by Ann on 03/08/06@08:30 AM CST ..::Link::..3 Screamers.

DREAM: Odd Situations and Geography

I think this dream took place when I was in my 20s, i.e., I had it last night, but I was younger in it. I was in a strange appartment or house with mattresses or futons on the floor. I think Stan was living with me. I was in one room that faced the back yard and it had a big picture window, sort of like my MIL's guestroom. I was lying on one bed that was higher up, my legs facing the window. I had on a nightgown (I *NEVER* wear nightgowns IRL). It was late at night and I heard voices outside, and I felt like people were watching me through the window. I look outside and see a bunch of high-school aged punkers from central casting standing about 40 feet away. I had no idea what they were up to, but it made me uneasy. Then I remember walking down a street which was like around the neighborhood when I lived on Mulberry. A man is coming towards me with three large long-haired black dogs. They look like Collie/Chow/Wolf mixes. A couple were not leashed, so I was hesitant as they approached me. The man assured me they were friendly, and they were. Then I dont know if this is continuing from this dog part or not, but I was coochying (is that a word? I use it all the time in reference to my pets....you're not just petting them, which is two-dimensional, but you're coochying them which is three dimensional...make sense?) Lucifer Sam, but he looked like a White French Bulldog with darker points. Back at the apartment now, and for some reason I am now in Scandanavia, but my geography is quite askew. I was supposedly on the border of Finland and Russia, but the city Rejkovik (sp?) kept cropping up, which is in Iceland. This apartment I was staying with was in a building that was partly in Finland and in Russia. Nico (who is in Norway) was going to visit me...or was it *his* apartment? Anyway, he was really glad to see me, but I was worried how I would get home because it was already 7pm and dark, and I didn't want to have to drive home in the dark (logically, I wouldn't be driving home from Finland...or Norway...or Iceland). Also, the high school kids in the back yard were feaking me out. I was glad Nico was there because I didn't want to be in the place alone. I figured that Stan would probably come home at which point I could get a ride with him. I was also wondering if I would get drunk and slip up and ending up having an affair with Nico. Heh. (I must've been younger...I can't drink anymore. And it's not for any reason you might think. Think of a reason why? It's not that. I'll write more about that later)

In another dream later in the morning I dreamt that someone Stan and I used to know in college (Susie L.) invited us to some sort of Alternative Golf party at some park. I can't remember if we went or not. I think the dream turned into a travelling dream, and staying at motels that I've stayed at before in other dreams. I do remember something about golf balls, but can't remember specifically. Or maybe they were dog toy balls.

Posted by Ann on 03/08/06@08:16 AM CST ..::Link::..4 Screamers.

Monday, March 6, 2006

'My 17 Years as an Unauthorized Jew' (The Good, section 1 part 2: Mother)

Before the age of 34 my earliest childhood memory was wanting a cluster of helium balloons I saw drifting above the ground across the street from my parents' house. Our family was returning home from a town parade, and when I saw the multicolored collection I told my mother that I wanted them. I thought my mother would walk across the street and bring them back for me, but instead she said, "come on let's go get them".

I was 3 years old and these balloons were being blown by the wind just above the ground faster than I could move. The tied end of their strings dragged along the ground over rocks, grass and dust. My mother and I followed them, and along the way I thought, at any time, she would run ahead of me to catch the strings. She kept her pace with mine, and I became filled with dread that they would get away and we would never reach them.

Perhaps this memory has stuck in my mind because she waited for me to grab the balloons at my slower pace instead of catching them for me. The imagery and emotions are both strange and beautiful for me, and I feel fortunate that this memory has remained vivid and clear through the passing of time.

Posted by Stan on 03/06/06@07:43 PM CST ..::Link::..A Whisper Inside.


September 11, 2001: Planes piloted by terrorists hit trade towers in New York City

September 12, 2001: Irony proclaimed Dead

September 13: 2001: Thousands of Art Professors in universities all over the country cheer as students now take their assignments seriously. [more]

Posted by Ann on 03/06/06@09:34 AM CST ..::Link::..A Whisper Inside.
By Stan @ 06:39 PM CST:03:10:06 ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

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