Saturday, October 22, 2005

I'm undecided.

Either they get whacked, in which case I can type better, or I keep my valued keratinous growths but strange things may appear in the words of this journal. I really don't care what happens at this point, so I thought I'd let readers decide (not that I have that many).

Posted by Ann on 10/22/05@01:40 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

DREAM: Ugly Baby and Bali Beads

I had given birth to a baby (I think) and it was really ugly, even uglier than most babies. I was trying to get it to nurse me while I was in a weird chair contraption made of hollow metal tubes, supposed to hold the mother in the correct nursing position. I couldn't get the hang of it, as the baby first took the nipple, then sort of "crumpled" itself, head twisting sideways into his shoulder, turning backwards, etc. As I tried to steady its head, I realized that the thing was REALLY ugly, a bad right eye that was sort of white and pinkish without any coloration, a deformed mouth, etc. I really had no desire to keep the thing, and was wondering if I was obligated to.

Funny how in dreams we never wonder how the hell we got in the predicament in the first place, but instead just go with the flow.

Gotta stop watching those Medical shows that show lots of deformed babies. Gotta think of cute babies, like Pug puppies. Baby Bulldogs. Kittens. Those are the kind of babies I like.


I was at a business that was a weird hybrid of my ex-Depressions job and a bead store. I had a bunch of Bali beads with me, and asked them if they sold a certain style of bead (double daisy wheel). They said they didn't, and I asked them if they were interested in ordering any from me, and that I could give them a good price of $0.22 per bead. I was surprised when they said they would. The person in charge went to the back to make up some order requisition. I then realized I should've put a bigger markup on it, just in case the price of silver goes up. When the head person came back, I was surprised she had ordered 6,645 beads (that exact amount...I remembered it). Why the odd number is beyond me. I was hoping my supplier would have that many in stock. Then I realized the kind they ordered was a not a double daisy wheel, but instead a bright white silver swirled petal cap.

Posted by Ann on 10/22/05@09:46 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

Friday, October 21, 2005

DREAM segments

A very short segment: I was walking down a slightly sloping city sidewalk with someone I made up about 23 years ago. His name was Leon and I was saying, "I should've nicknamed you Lenny! Lenny! You're my Lenny!"

Don't ask.

Another extremely short segment where Stan was sitting by some... thing... (sometimes it's really hard to translate dream imagery) that was white and had names of bands written in red all over it. Most of the bands were avant garde progressive Euro stuff that Bill has brought up from time to time, and Eno was among them. For some reason Stan and possibly other people in the room were making fun of the bands, which I found quite amusing, but I didn't want to make fun of Eno. (and the point...was...?)

This segment I had in the morning when it was practically time to get up. I was driving somewhere on the UW campus where they were having a bunch of construction. I stopped at a stop sign and there was an older yellow sedan driven by an older retirement-age white-haired woman at my right at the interection. She was turning left and practically ran into me. I probably cussed at her, then put the car in reverse so that she wouldn't hit me. Then she starts manouevering and backing up on the sidewalk. I have to wait for ever for her to do this, but meanwhile my car keeps going in reverse and even though I try to go forward by pushing the accelorator, I obviousy just keep going in reverse faster. Finally I switch into Drive, but the car continues in reverse. I keep backing up and can't even stop with my brake. Finally, I think the car does stop, but for some reason, I get out and walk instead. I'm walking across some gap that has a narrow plank (about two feet wide) of plywood. It's a long way down, and I'm having a hard time walking a straight line. Fortunately, I make it to the other side. There's a construction guy in a hard hat and he looks at me funny.

Posted by Ann on 10/21/05@09:11 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

Thursday, October 20, 2005

DREAM: Green Dog and other stuff

For some reason I was at my ex-job. We all went outside to some strange park. Everyone sat in cliques and groups, but I sat by myself on some really hard, uncomfortable chair. Someone was passing around a picture of antique typesetting equipment, and I spotted a piece that I "actually" (in dream logic, not IRL) used. The only way I can describe it is it sort of looked like a cross between a 1930s typewriter and that hideous monster of cold war technology, the keypunch machine and sorter that I used at CSU (I'm not THAT old, it's just that the Chem Stockroom was that outdated...hmmm...maybe that's why they hired my dad). Then we all started watching some movie that was projected into the air. I'm not sure if it was a hologram because I don't know how they work, but if you project something from a regular projector, the image will be projected on the closest object, but this projected it onto a vertical plane, so the projection created an artificial "screen." I can't remember the content of the movie, it might have been just MandleAcid psychedelia.

It was Halloween and I was at someone's house, but I'm not sure who's. It sort of had a split-level quality like Lamya and Russ's, but it wasn't them, except for the fact there were kids there. The house seemed familiar nonetheless. The staircases were too high for a split level, though, and rickety iron bars, that were coming loose from the floor, were the only thing that stood between a top floor and the stairs. I felt this was unsafe. Lucifer Sam was there, and he was walking around the stairways. I was so afraid he would stumble and fall, not just down a flight of stairs like Hieronymus did, but literally down a stairwell, which would kill him (I hope I've differentiated the two...the former is when you fall down stairs, bump, bump, bump, the latter is when you fall in the cavity). I decided to leave the building. I remember seeing a bunch of women in their 20s with blonde early 60s wigs. I thought it was odd, but then remembered it was Halloween. I started walking down Main Street, our first street in Madison, towards our rental. Lucifer Sam was with me. Then I crossed over to where the train tracks and gardens were, and LS started running in front of cars. It freaked me out. Lucifer Sam looked different--he was longer, lower to the ground, and his fur was light green and mop-like, sort of like Dave and Suzy's late dogs (Peke? Shitzu? Lhasa?). I then sat on the ground and held him, glad that he wasn't run over. Then there were people with other dogs around me. One was a Rottweiller mix, who seemed like a really friendly dog, but someone told me that he might have to be put down because he bit a policeman.

Posted by Ann on 10/20/05@09:14 AM CST ..::Link::..12 Screamers.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

2 DREAMS: Blue Dog and Quadruplets

Finally getting some good, deep REM sleep!

In the first dream, I was travelling over land in some odd contraption like one of those trams, except it was untethered. I think there were other people in the vehicle, and they said it's OK to look down, but not to keep your eyes concentrated on the ground. It was sort of like when you go to Google Maps and click on the highest resolution, but it was much closer. I made the mistake of staring at an area on the ground while the tram was in a very steep canyon, like a gorge. This somehow caused me alone to get stranded on a ledge in the canyon. There was a dog that was with me, a shepherd/retriever/working-type dog (as opposed to a silly snub-nosed companion dog like my own) that had bluish-grey fur. There was also a woman (I think) that was there with me too, and she said that the dog's fur used to be bluer, but yadda yadda, it turned grey. The dog was very affectionate. The woman told me that I had to stay overnight on the ledge with the dog, but that "they" would come to rescue me in the morning. Then she left. I found a flashlight and some pamphlet for how to make Morse Code, so I thought I would signal with my flashlight to the rest of the world if they could see me. I was scared that no one would ever come to rescue me and that I'd freeze or starve to death. I was also afraid that the dog would fall off the ledge. He was a very affectionate dog and we huddled together. Then the woman reappeared and I was glad there was another human on the ledge with me as I felt it would make the prospect of getting rescued greater.

For some WEIRD reason, Stan's mom, 76, a widow, with two grown adopted children, had quadruplets. We didn't even know she was pregnant. The house was a strange hybrid of the nice, new house she has, with the two-story with a creepy old basement like we have. She kept the quadruplets (who all appeared to be fraternal) in kennel structures in the basement. I wondered why she didn't keep them in a nicer room, and then I realized that all the bedrooms were used for something like MY studio spaces (why I would have my own studio spaces at my MIL's is beyond me!). I realized that I would probably have to relinquish my studio, which I didn't want to do. (Why would I care, if it wasn't my house? But maybe it WAS my house!)

Also, there was some weird dream about getting lost inside a university building and trying to find an unoccupied classroom so that I could be alone for sexual reasons (?!?!?!) but it was a very short segment.

Posted by Ann on 10/19/05@09:46 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Heaven part 1: Mt. Fuji Japanese Restaurant in Fort Collins

Damn good sushi!

Posted by Ann on 10/18/05@02:14 PM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

Hell part 4: Montezuma's Revenge

...was either from the expired milk at my parent's (why waste money throwing out good milk? yeah, frugality is really good for you) or the meth-sprinkled sub sandwich in North Podunk, Nebraska. We will never know, but since I'm home now, I'm fine.

Posted by Ann on 10/18/05@02:12 PM CST ..::Link::..A Whisper Inside.

Hell part 3: Sleeping Situations

I am sleeping long and hard, now that I'm back in Madison. My king-sized waveless fiber-fill waterbed (WHY did they discontinue those?) is so comfortable that I could stay in bed forever if it wasn't for a little thing called having to urinate and feed the animals in the morning.

Unfortunately, sleeping situations on the road aren't quite as accommodating.

The first night in the hotel was your typical banging doors and noisy diesel trucks running forever outside. I can handle that, but what was really annoying were the teenagers in the parking lot at 11 pm. Seems like Little Miss Desk Clerk brought along all her high school friends to accompany her on the job. Grrr. Stan usually isn't a complainer, but he complained. Either it wasn't her shift working on the day we came back through, or she lost or quit her job while we were in Colorado, because it was quiet that night.

We brought Caligula the cat with us. He's a fairly good traveller, keeps quiet more than not, unlike Persephone who cries loud the whole time driving. We couldn't keep the cats together at home due to Persephone being on special medication and food due to her old age problems. It's a long and complicated epxlanation that I won't go into, but the only way to get around the problem of them not eating eachothers' food was to take a cat with us. Caligula was the perfect choice so we could monitor his overeating habits too. This meant that a cat would be sleeping with us in our room. Fortunately, Stan's mom has two rooms one can use, so since Stan felt he was the more allergic one, I would get stuck with the cat in the bigger room with lots of windows. Cats need windows.

This is a room with a view of the San Juans to die for. I love that room; we can roll down the blinds at night and stare up at the starry skies. Unfortunately, the bed is a supposed Queen that thinks it's a Double. And although the mattress is new and more comfortable than the old one she had there, the size is still a problem for us. Once you go King, you really can't go back, especially when you're sleeping with an Elbow Monster. So as much as I'd love to sleep there WITH Stan, we simply can't do it without killing eachother. In the past, Stan would end up sleeping on the floor, so he would bring along a sleeping bag and foam padding for the express purpose of sleeping in that room. I wonder what his mom thought when she'd discover a sleeping bag in our room. That we'd smuggled in a 3rd person? Marital problems? No, just small bed problems. So a King has spoiled me. Just don't call me a Princess...it's the only luxury I have.

So this time Stan got the small bedroom, usually given to his niece when visiting with her mother and father. It's full of niece-y things, like dolls. Lots of dolls. I hate dolls. Stan hates dolls. And the niece, who is now 12 going on 13, will soon start to hate these dolls if she is at all normal. Some of these dolls are gigantic, life-sized toddler-sized, but with hideous heads and bad haircuts. I call them Frankendolls. I was going to shoot a picture of them just to document their hideousness but in all our busy-ness, I forgot. I actually hope I will have a chance to do this next year before Stan's mom suddenly wakes up and realizes "those dolls are really ugly! better throw them out!" I was fearing that the dolls would give Stan nightmares, but fortunately they didn't.

The first night we decided that I too, was equally allergic to having a cat confined in a bedroom with me (we didn't want to let him out in the rest of the house for fear of him disappearng and not being able to find him again), so we decided to swap rooms every other night so one night one person would have the nice big room with a sneeze-making cat that walked on your head all night, and the other night one would have the tiny room with the uncomfortable twin bed with dolls. Joy.

The 2nd night that I slept in the doll room I had the stiffest, sorest neck in the world. I also realized my allergies were seasonal and not cat related, while Stan really is more affected by Caligula than I. So I got the big cat room for the rest of the stay.

And then there's my parents accommodations (evil maniacal laughter and screams with horror-show sound effects).

Here's how it went a long time ago when we first started vising: I would get the tiny bedroom that used to be my bedroom when I was a teenager (before my grandmother moved in and I was sent to the basement before I said "screw this shit" and moved in with Stan and into an even shittier basement). Stan would get a rollaway bed/cot in the living room. But my bed now had a new mattress that was as hard as walnut wood. But I managed. What I couldn't manage was the sound of my parents in the other room snoring. The ranch-style house, built in 1962, not only sported the most boring floorplan ever, but also paper thin walls. I couldn't take it anymore...

Then Stan got the bedroom, and I got to sleep on the rollaway cot in the living room. Can we say NO PRIVACY? And this was before my dad retired, so he was always clunking around there in the morning. And I don't sleep in jammies...just undies and tank tops, so, well, it was difficult. And even after he retired he would still clunk around there in the morning. I really really hated it. My parents have no concept on how to accommodate guests. Of course they had no concept on how to raise a kid in conteporary middle-class society in the 60s and 70s either (we're not still in the Depression!*), yet I digress, again.

It was around 2002 that the metal spring rollaway cot just got way too wonky, so I chucked it and put the cot mattress directly on the floor. At that point, Stan had decided to sleep on the couch in the living room, either my parents snoring had gotten to him too, or the mattress was too damn hard or my mom had decided to make the "guest" bedroom her permanent bedroom away from my dad (I hope we never get that way), or a combination of all those things. Perhaps it was the sight of me sleeping on a mattress on the floor that got to my parents. Perhaps it's because Stan's mom paid us a visit there while there was a mattress on the floor in the living room. Perhaps it was because Stan had his sleeping bag and all our suitcases layed out in the living room because there was no guest room to put them anymore. Perhaps it was because we decided not to visit them in 2003. But something changed. They decided to fix up the room downstairs and make it a guestroom...something they should've done many, many years before. They consulted me about futons. I told them that Stan and I really can't sleep in anything but a King (Yes, it's sad, we're King addicts, once an addict, always an addict. Pathetic, I know.). They claimed they couldn't find a King-size futon anywhere, so they got two Singles. How very I Love Lucy and Dick Van Dyke. I shouldn't complain, at least it's something. But what is aggravating is that when the futons are in the upright or "chair" position, they have wooden arms. Which means when it's flat, it still has arms. Which means my knees and legs are bruised a lot. And I can't put my hand over the edge because of the arms.

There was a bathroom downstairs, but one could really only use it for, well, you know. You couldn't bathe in the bathroom. Fortunately, they took care of that too. They fixed the shower stall so it doesn't look like something from Auschwitz anymore. And they put in a better working sink with cabinets. But when we went there, my mom literally had rags for us to step on outisde the shower. She claimed they were small towels. Maybe they were small towels in 1965, but now they are RAGS. We had to buy bath towels for their bathroom before I could take a shower there.

It's unbelievable how clueless my parents are sometimes. Oddly, my dad even agreed with me that the towels were too small to use to step on. That really says something, when my dad, King Miser, Lord Frugal, Master PennyPincher, says something is inadequate.

Somebody help me.

*but give Bush enough rope...

Posted by Ann on 10/18/05@12:16 PM CST ..::Link::..11 Screamers.

Hell, part 2: The Cleaning Lady

This is sort of a weird doppleganger thing that happened on both sides of the Fort Collins lag of the trip. (An aside, I made a corpse slice back in the summer and I titled my section "Doppleganger RoadTrip". I didn't know what it meant at the time, but the words sounded good together ((as I often do for art titles)) but now I have an idea of what it means.)

Stan's mom has a cleaning lady come in once a week to dust. Cleaning Lady used to be a drug addict back in the day, and although from what I understand she was born a normal/average person, the drug problem gave her the appearance of at least a mentally-challenged person, if not even a Downs syndrome. Being a distant, distant relative by marriage, Stan's mom felt the need to help her out, hence hiring her to clean. Well, you know what they say, once an addict...

So I'm finally getting to the point that I'm sleeping *fairly* well at Stan's mom's (bedroom situations on trips are always challenging, but I think that's an entry for Hell part 3), but by the time we get to Fort Collins, I'm loosing massive amounts of sleep again (single-sized futon bed with wooden "arms", cat constantly on me, stuffy, hot basement, Stan snoring in the other bed and I can't kick him because it's another bed...etc...etc...) and decide it's time for drastic measures, i.e., Lorazepam.

Lorazepam was prescribed to me to counteract the effects of Claritin which makes me sort of jittery, so I can get to sleep. Although I really don't have that problem with Claritin now as much as I did when I first started taking it, I hung on to the Lorazepam to save when I'm having massive problems sleeping. Since I have no refills left, the few pills I have left are like gold. It's a great drug...allows me to sleep straight through the night and wake up refreshed. In the case of travelling, it means I only wake up about 20 times during the night instead of 80.

So I'm rifling through one of my many travel bags to find the drugs. I have a gazillion travel bags and two little old-fashioned hard-sided suitcases that I take with me. I really need to chuck them all and buy a nice, softsider luggage set, but hey, I don't fly and I don't have the $, so why bother? The suitcases were free hand-me-downs from my parents, one was a free promotion my grandmother got from opening an account somewhere (back when banks gave you stuff). I remember when she got that I had to carry the suitcase home on a Racine city bus. It's very 70s blue with green, yellow and orange stripes. Yeow. The travel bags I got free too as free promotions from GeoCities (remember them, when the web not only was free, but gave you stuff?) and assorted perfume bonus gifts (Dune). I take a lot of clothes travelling. Reason? Parents do not have a clothes dryer, hence a convenient clothes wash while in Fort Hell is out of the question. It sucks. And they ask me why I take so much stuff with me. Duh! Yet I digress. Upon searching, I realize I do not have my drugs. They are nowhere. We call Stan's mom, thinking that maybe I left my drugs there, but she can't find them.

Then it hits me...I probably really did leave my drugs there, but the day we left the western slope was the day the Cleaning Lady would come. The Cleaning Lady, the former drug addict STOLE MY DRUGS! Not that you could get off much from Lorazepam, Claritin and Ibuprofen, but hey, who knows.

Blame the Cleaning Lady! Damn drug addicts, finding my allergy medication, painkillers and sleeping aid! I can always replace the Claritin and the Ibuprofen...those are OTC, but the Lorazepam was my only hope for ever getting one good night of sleep at my parents'! I cursed drug addicts more (and why is it that they always get someone to pity them and help them out of their situation, whereas those of us who aren't drug addicts, but need help, get nada?)

But then I felt something in one of my black bags, a hard bulge in a zippered pocket. It was...YES! My Meds! I only woke up about 20 times that night.

And the Cleaning Lady was off the hook...for now.

We get back to Madison Friday night. I'm feeling like hell due to Montezuma's revenge (I guess that's an entry for Hell part 4.), and pretty much feel like hell the entire useless weekend. On Monday, yesterday, I feel ok, so I decide to get my mail from the Post Office and shoot pictures of my jewelry, but first I needed to unload my camera contents, namely the really ugly kneecap (see below).

That is, if I could find my camera.

I searched everywhere. I called Stan at work. He didn't know where it was. I searched everywhere again. I called the hotel I stayed at in Lincoln, Nebraska, our halfway point, to see if anyone, like, oh, The Cleaning Lady, turned in a digital camera. I called my mom. Nothing. No digital camera.

This isn't a little cheap $100 camera. I bought it 5 years ago and tried to get a pretty good model at the time. Along with the entire accessory package--charger, adapter, batteries, flash cards, USB cord, etc., I was minus a grand. And now I was minus a camera. And although I never wanted to be a photographer, I ended up being one by necessity to photograph my jewelry and beads (I have a side business of selling imported Bali beads...bet you didn't know that). And now Stan uses it to photograph his cactuses. We are both completely dependent on having a digital camera for our livelihood, not just to take pretty pictures on vacation. And now it appears we were screwed.

I did my errands, Stan called and said we could go look for a new camera after he got off work that evening. I started doing research on the web to see what would be the best model for macrophotography. I kept mulling over in my head how although I thought I made sure I had EVERYTHING with me before leaving the motel, how maybe because Montezuma was playing not only with my one end, but possibly even with my mind, that maybe I really did leave it in the motel in a dark corner by the bed. Damn. Damn. Why hasn't the hotel called back? I bet The Cleaning Lady found it and took it and is laughing over my injured knee picture. I bet she'll pawn it and use it to buy drugs. I decided to call the hotel back. I sat down on the futon couch, and readied myself for interrogating them about their Cleaning Lady not coming clean (pardon the pun) about what she finds left behind. As I was talking to the receptionist, my eye spotted something in a dark corner. It was small, dark, no, could it be? Was it? Was it my camera bag? "No, we haven't turned up anything, but we'll call you if we find it," said the receptionist. I thanked her as I simultaneously grabbed the strap and felt the familiar feel of the camera bag. It must've fallen on the floor from the other futon when the dogs were squirreling around, then pushed back in a dark corner when Stan was working on his cactus stuff.

The Cleaning Lady is off the hook.

Posted by Ann on 10/18/05@09:25 AM CST ..::Link::..4 Screamers.

Hell, part 1

I really don't want to go back to Fort Collins. This last time I got such a bad vibe from the town. Next trip, I just want to go to the western slope and travel there. I don't want to go to the front range. We saw a lot of people this time crammed into such a short time. We can skip a year, no one will care. My parent's basement is a prison cell. The bathroom is ok (at least Stan and I have a bathroom now and are not at my dad's whim as to when we can use it), but the whole basement is so HOT (!!!) it's like being in hell. Actually, it's sort of like in Fanny and Alexander when they have to live with the preacher and everything is so stark and minimal. That was my childhood...minimal. No wonder my own house is full of rocks and plants and animals and LIFE because I was denied so much when I lived with them. Just being there brings back such horrible memories. I don't want to go back.

To top it all off, Sunday October 9, we stopped at Whole Foods in Ft. Hell to get some snacks for a relative get-together in another city (Stan's side, of course...there's nothing on my side). It was raining, and I slipped while entering stupid Hell Foods on their ultra shiny hard polished yuppie floor. I hit my knee and threw my arm out (the arm I keep continuously injuring). I let out a slew of cuss words, like GDSOB, and while I could see mothers ushering their kids away from the angry fallen cussing woman, no one, I repeat NO ONE from HELL FOODS came to see if I was ok. A PERSON FALLS FLAT ON THE GROUND AT YOUR STORE, IMMOBILIZED, YELLS AND CUSSES REALLY LOUD, AND YOU AS MANAGEMENT, SALES ASSOCIATE WHAT-THE-FUCK-EVER-THEY-CALL-EMPLOYEES-NOWADAYS DON'T COME TO SEE WHAT'S WRONG? WTF? WTFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

I spoke to customer serivce and complained that their floor was slick and showed them my knee (before it got really frickin' ugly) and I said they should put signs out if their floor was slick. They said they'd call me the following day to see if I was OK. They never called.

As much as I'd like to sue their GD corporate Texan hippie asses for pain and suffering, I didn't see going to a doctor was necessary as I could still walk. I didn't break the kneecap; if I had, it'd be a different story, obviously.
kneehellfoods (24k image)
The picture of the kneecap is what my knee looked like a few days after the fall. Ugly as shit, it looks necrotic.

It just adds insult to injury that they didn't call. The fall really hurt, it was skinned, badly bruised, and I had to take ibuprofen (which I couldn't pick up at The Granola Giants while I was there because it's not "natural" ((as told to me by sales associate (((in Texan accent))) "I'm sorry ma'am, we're a natural organic food store, we don't sell that...we do have Witchy Bark and Willow Eaze if that will help.")) so I had to go to Long's Drugs before we left town that morning), but the hurt went away. However, the emotional hurt is still there, the fact that they didn't fucking care about a customer. It was as if Fort Collins really doesn't want me there. Not even as a visitor. We have a Hell Foods in Madison, too, but I don't think they're quite as apathetic--they were like Stepford Hippies at Whole Foods Fort Collins! Still, I've lost any desire to shop there and will now try to go solely to Magic Mill or Jennifer Street if at all possible.

Sorry about the excessive parenthesis in the above paragraph. And no, the sales associate didn't actually say "witchy bark," but it sounded damn good.

An odd thing about Fort Collins this time is that there was no Barney or Dick. Usually when we would go to Old Towne (I really hate adding that superfluous "e" at the end--screw the Fort's original PR person and their cutesy quaint affectedness) in the past, we'd either spot Dick (Spotted Dick!) or Barney. But this time...no one. Barney and Dick are/were mentally challenged individuals who seemed to be regulars downtown. We took it as a good omen to spot them on a street corner. It really seems as if the yuppies have taken over that place and swept all the streets clean of anything not to their design standards.

Posted by Ann on 10/18/05@09:25 AM CST ..::Link::..8 Screamers.
By Ann @ 01:40 PM CST:10:22:05 ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

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October 2005



10.16.2005 - 10.22.2005
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12.12.2004 - 12.18.2004
12.05.2004 - 12.11.2004
11.21.2004 - 11.27.2004
11.14.2004 - 11.20.2004
11.07.2004 - 11.13.2004
10.31.2004 - 11.06.2004
10.10.2004 - 10.16.2004
10.03.2004 - 10.09.2004
09.26.2004 - 10.02.2004
09.19.2004 - 09.25.2004
09.12.2004 - 09.18.2004
09.05.2004 - 09.11.2004
08.22.2004 - 08.28.2004
08.15.2004 - 08.21.2004
08.08.2004 - 08.14.2004
07.25.2004 - 07.31.2004
07.18.2004 - 07.24.2004
07.11.2004 - 07.17.2004
07.04.2004 - 07.10.2004
06.27.2004 - 07.03.2004
06.20.2004 - 06.26.2004
06.06.2004 - 06.12.2004
05.30.2004 - 06.05.2004
05.23.2004 - 05.29.2004
05.16.2004 - 05.22.2004
05.09.2004 - 05.15.2004
05.02.2004 - 05.08.2004
04.25.2004 - 05.01.2004
04.11.2004 - 04.17.2004
03.28.2004 - 04.03.2004
03.21.2004 - 03.27.2004
03.14.2004 - 03.20.2004
03.07.2004 - 03.13.2004
02.29.2004 - 03.06.2004
02.22.2004 - 02.28.2004
02.08.2004 - 02.14.2004
02.01.2004 - 02.07.2004
01.25.2004 - 01.31.2004
01.18.2004 - 01.24.2004
01.11.2004 - 01.17.2004
01.04.2004 - 01.10.2004
12.28.2003 - 01.03.2004
12.21.2003 - 12.27.2003
12.14.2003 - 12.20.2003
12.07.2003 - 12.13.2003
11.30.2003 - 12.06.2003
11.23.2003 - 11.29.2003
11.16.2003 - 11.22.2003
11.09.2003 - 11.15.2003
11.02.2003 - 11.08.2003
10.26.2003 - 11.01.2003
10.19.2003 - 10.25.2003
10.05.2003 - 10.11.2003
09.28.2003 - 10.04.2003
09.21.2003 - 09.27.2003
09.14.2003 - 09.20.2003
09.07.2003 - 09.13.2003
08.31.2003 - 09.06.2003
08.24.2003 - 08.30.2003
08.17.2003 - 08.23.2003
08.10.2003 - 08.16.2003
08.03.2003 - 08.09.2003
07.27.2003 - 08.02.2003
07.20.2003 - 07.26.2003
07.13.2003 - 07.19.2003
07.06.2003 - 07.12.2003
06.29.2003 - 07.05.2003
06.22.2003 - 06.28.2003
06.15.2003 - 06.21.2003
06.08.2003 - 06.14.2003
06.01.2003 - 06.07.2003
05.25.2003 - 05.31.2003
05.18.2003 - 05.24.2003
05.11.2003 - 05.17.2003
05.04.2003 - 05.10.2003
04.27.2003 - 05.03.2003
04.20.2003 - 04.26.2003
04.13.2003 - 04.19.2003
04.06.2003 - 04.12.2003
03.30.2003 - 04.05.2003
03.23.2003 - 03.29.2003
03.16.2003 - 03.22.2003
03.09.2003 - 03.15.2003
03.02.2003 - 03.08.2003
02.23.2003 - 03.01.2003
02.16.2003 - 02.22.2003
02.09.2003 - 02.15.2003
02.02.2003 - 02.08.2003
01.26.2003 - 02.01.2003
01.12.2003 - 01.18.2003
01.05.2003 - 01.11.2003
12.29.2002 - 01.04.2003
12.22.2002 - 12.28.2002
12.15.2002 - 12.21.2002
12.08.2002 - 12.14.2002
12.01.2002 - 12.07.2002
11.24.2002 - 11.30.2002
11.17.2002 - 11.23.2002
11.10.2002 - 11.16.2002
11.03.2002 - 11.09.2002
10.27.2002 - 11.02.2002
10.20.2002 - 10.26.2002
10.13.2002 - 10.19.2002
10.06.2002 - 10.12.2002
09.29.2002 - 10.05.2002
09.22.2002 - 09.28.2002
09.15.2002 - 09.21.2002
09.08.2002 - 09.14.2002
09.01.2002 - 09.07.2002
08.25.2002 - 08.31.2002
08.18.2002 - 08.24.2002
08.11.2002 - 08.17.2002
08.04.2002 - 08.10.2002
07.28.2002 - 08.03.2002
07.21.2002 - 07.27.2002
07.14.2002 - 07.20.2002
07.07.2002 - 07.13.2002
06.30.2002 - 07.06.2002
06.23.2002 - 06.29.2002
06.16.2002 - 06.22.2002
06.09.2002 - 06.15.2002
06.02.2002 - 06.08.2002
05.26.2002 - 06.01.2002
05.19.2002 - 05.25.2002
05.12.2002 - 05.18.2002
05.05.2002 - 05.11.2002
04.28.2002 - 05.04.2002
04.21.2002 - 04.27.2002

Latest Achives (April 2006–Present)

Four Years of old entries before this journal blew up the second time (April 2002–April 2006)

even older entries before this journal blew up the first time (December 2001–April 2002)

even moldier eyeblog archives (November 2000–December 2001)

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