These are old archived entries from my journal, Ornamental Illness. I have eliminated all graphics (except those in context of an entry) to save on my bandwidth usage.

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Saturday, December 7, 2002

DREAM - Holstein Tulips

1) Stan and I were driving up to Alaska because we were going to move there. (!?) I have no idea what city. I remember looking at a map and seeing highways and giving him directions. As we got into the city we were going to stay in, we were walking around the town. I remember seeing some very old houses that looked like they had been fire damaged. Everything looked very overgrown, not lush, just weedy. I saw a tulip that was growing in a garden. I thought that the growing season was so late there so that tulips didn't start to grow until the fall. The tulip was furry and patterned like a Holstein cow...most odd.

2) I dreamt I was getting undressed in the bathroom, and even though the door to the bedroom was closed, I was able to see the high window in our bedroom in the bathroom mirror, so it was freaking me out that our neighbors could potentially see me getting undressed. I also dreamt my breasts were made out of fabric stuffing.

Posted by Ann on 12/07/02@09:32 AM CST ..::Link::..

Friday, December 6, 2002

DREAM - No where to fly to

Stan and I were in a mall or some large department store. We were wandering around in a section where they sold sort of groovy items like extremely tall lava lamps. It was a very open store, and I picked up a frisbee off a shelf and threw it to Stan. He threw it back to me, but his throw was so bad, it was as if he had no energy or something, but how strong do you have to be to throw a frisbee, I mean really? Then some other guy threw a frisbee and I watched it and the frisbee flew around the aisle, turned the corner of another aisle, turned around, and flew back to the guy! Then I tried it with my frisbee and it did the same exact thing, flew around the room and came back to me. It was wild!

Posted by Ann on 12/06/02@10:13 AM CST ..::Link::..

Thursday, December 5, 2002

She helped build my Wall

Ever have someone in your life at a vulnerable time that dictates your taste and what music (or whatever in your case) you should and shouldn't like and like a stupid Sheep you follow them because you don't want to lose their 'friendship'? You give up so much in exchange for their approval that by the end you've lost certain core, defining parts of yourself. With any luck, you'll recover them, but sometimes it takes years...decades, even. She even tried to tell me Stan was a worthless direction. Fortunately, I knew better. In the end, the better woman won.

Pig (The Fourth Kind)

Punk rock fascist, ha ha charade you are
You Pistol-whipped anarchist, ha ha charade you are
You say you hate the hippies but you're always stoned
Throwing 'round your fat weight
No bands you don't hate
And what is it that you've made?
Just wallowing in the cold shade
And do nothing but complain
About how art is so lame
Jessica you're nearly a laugh
Jessica you're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry


With apologies and gratitude to Roger Waters, muse.
Based on the Pink Floyd song 'Pigs (Three Different Ones)' by Roger Waters.


Well, now that that's off my chest...maybe I shouldn't be so hard on poor old Jessica. After all, her pruning my garden did make things take off in quite unexpected directions. And granted, there were some weeds there, I'll gladly admit. And maybe by stunting my budding musical interest in Pink Floyd via her Gospel According to Rotten's T-Shirt, was actually good because I can appreciate them in ways I probably wouldn't be able to back then. But then again, she was nothing more than an insecure hypercritical morbidly obese drug casualty, (who has absolutely no digital trail--has she completely vanished? What about her goal of being in a band? What HAS she done with her life?) I doubt my best future interests ever crossed her mind.

Last but not least, here's a funny Jessica story. One night in late 1980 she and her two roommates were all tripping on something in preparation to go to the midnight movie in Denver (gag, spit) Led Zeppelin's (spit) 'The Song Remains The Same.' (TSRTS) Another friend at the time, Dianne, was driving (obviously not tripping). I went, but was not tripping on anything either. In fact, I didn't even want to see the stupid movie...I'd seen it before and since then was definitely turning anti-Zeppelin. Dianne was a big Zeppelin fan in the way a girl would be...fantasy-like, she fancied herself some Lady Guinnevere from that King Arthur's rot or what have you. I was a BIG Kinks fan (something that fortunately Jessica didn't/couldn't squelch) and just found it anathema to be both a Kink's fan and a Zeppelin fan (and if you don't understand that, read your old rock and roll history) so I chose my camp. But I went along with them because they were my friends. And it was Friday night. Playing in the same movie plex was The Beatles 'Yellow Submarine' and I wish I could've seen that instead, but I was greatly outnumbered. Dianne wanted to see TSRTS because she was nuts over Robert Plant, and I'm not sure why the other two women wanted to see it, probably because it was all Jessica's idea. And why, why, this Johnny Rotten Disciple would want to see TSRTS, after making no bones about her dislike of older 'Classic Rock' bands was beyond me initially. And as an aside, come on, Mr. Rotten, choosing Pink Floyd to be your whipping boys of that era? Surely, you jest. What perplexes me, Johnny, is if you didn't like Rawk Starz, why did you pick on a band that was very much not Rawk Starz themselves? See, Zeppelin would've been my personal target. In fact, in about 1980/81, I could've easily worn my own Led Zeppelin t-shirt with 'I hate' painted across the top. And see, I think Jessica hated them too, sort of. But she also thought Jimmy Page was God (she said so). (Wait a minute...I thought Eno was God!) And after we had finished watching the movie, (me feeling like I needed a good strong mouthwash and Dianne in heaven), Jessica said, 'It was like f*@%&*# Jimmy Page!' She was in the throes of ecstasy about how wonderful it was to get inside the mind of and f*#* Jimmy Page while tripping! Ewwwwwwwww! Ewwwww! I'm sorry. My own personal taste. Ewwwwww! Typical Psycho, hates them and wants to screw them all at the same time. And doesn't that go counter to punk too? I mean, WTF? Can we say 'messed up?' Can we say 'crossed priorities?'

She was nearly a cry
But she's really a laugh.

Posted by Ann on 12/05/02@01:30 AM CST ..::Link::..

Wednesday, December 4, 2002

DREAM - Lemon Poodles, Basketball Heads and Denim Faces.

Someone gave me a poodle in exchange for web design work. The poodle was most was lemon flavored. You know how you can taste things by looking at them in your dreams instead of actually 'tasting' it? The thing also looked like lemon meringue pie...those colors, that translucent yellow with the slightest hint of green with white. The thing was really attached to me. I was petting it under its chin and it yelped like it was hurt. I figured it had such a delicate jawline that I hurt it somehow...I'm used to push-faced dogs that have pretty sturdy jaws. I held my hand next to its mouth and it seemed to bite me, but it was just a love sort of sucked on my finger. Its fur was incredibly soft. I didn't want to give the poodle up, it was, after all, a gift, but I didn't know if Tim (who abhors poodles) would accept it, and what on earth would I do with three dogs?

I was at some strange class reunion from high school French class, I think, but it was most mutated. I saw some guy there who I supposedly (dreamwise--there really was no such person IRL) had in my class, but we were talking and it was like he knew me from grade school in New York because we were looking at a map that looked like the Bayberry residential community. He showed me where he lived, and I asked him why there wasn't a street name and he said it was because he didn't live directly in Bayberry. Then it was like the map was real and I was looking down on Bayberry. There was a huge mall that never used to be there before. Then there was a girl that appeared that actually *was* in my French class. I started talking to her before I saw her face and said it was so nice to see her (why? we weren't friends...she was one of the popular people, although I admit she was nicer than most popular people.). IRL she'd always had a weight problem, but when she turned to look at me and her face was like the size of a basketball. It was most freaky and she was very hard to look at. She said that because I was nice to her, she'd let me watch her cellphone while she went off to talk to some other people (gee, thanks). It didn't look like a was too block-shaped, not slender enough. Then the guy who had been talking to me about where we used to live went off to talk to another woman who was sitting somewhere else. I figured it was because he was black and she was black, but when she turned her head, she wasn't black...she was made out of denim. Her whole face was covered in denim. It too, like the basketball-sized headed woman, was most freaky. Then the class or whatever it was let out, and we all started milling around. I was going into other rooms to get stuff to take home with me. This part is blurry, but I think Stan was with me too.

Posted by Ann on 12/04/02@09:40 AM CST ..::Link::..

Tuesday, December 3, 2002

These are the things you need that you forgot

We were having dinner with Tim last night at our favorite Mexican restaurant, Laredo's. Tim *finally* got his favorite Gin and Tonic as he had tried so hard to do over this past year or so. Someone at the bar finally figured out what it was, I guess. Bill called us to tell us that Pan, his cat, died this morning. Pan was 19. Pan was a fixture at Bill's place and will be very sadly missed. Somehow I knew when I saw Pan last the last time that it would be the last time I saw him (is that a palindromic statement or what?). I told Bill that he really needs to get another cat because it takes the mind off the mourning. That's what we did when Vladimir died (four years ago on November 29) by getting Caligula. I asked Bill the question that I've been wondering for the past few months...why the name 'Pan'? He said he didn't name him, a friend of his named him when she found him. I told him that Pan was the Piper at the Gates of Dawn and wondered if there was any significance. Just one of those coincidences, I guess.

After dinner we took Tim to Target because he had to get some contact lens stuff or something. I had a huge Margarita at dinner and really didn't want to be there. Stan, who only had coffee, made some comment while we were standing in the checkout line in regards to the products they place near the checkout lines. I don't know why he said this, in an attempt to make sarcastically fun of consumers and products and mindless consumption or what, but he said:

'These are the things you need that you forgot.'

Suddenly, it seemed so profound, not in terms of consumers and products and merchandising...forget that crap. But in *real* terms. In human, personal terms. In my terms, my life. I could see the Giant from Twin Peaks saying this to Agent Cooper, Cooper looking puzzled. Sounds of Windom Earle and Bob laughing in the background, getting louder until it sounds like the laughing in the intro of Dark Side of the Moon.

Posted by Ann on 12/03/02@11:00 AM CST ..::Link::..

DREAM, an Epic - And they say you never wake up again if you die!

Stan and I were some place where people around us were talking about some sort of weird races where some homemade contraption pushes a locomotive engine down some train tracks. It sounded surreal but the weird thing is that suddenly we started moving and we realized that we were actually inside a locomotive engine. We weren't going that fast at first, but it started speeding up and we were watching the landscape go by us outside the window. It was getting rather frightening, as I could see other engines in the contest derailing and causing car traffic to have major lethal accidents. Suddenly, my limbs seemed paralyzed and a strange tingling sensation overtook my whole body. I think I've had this sensation before, and it extends beyond the mental dream into the physical, real realm. But I didn't wake up. The engine was now at a standstill, and Stan got out and started walking around on a street nearby. There was like a dock, where people were loading stuff off of and he seemed to be asking some men some questions. I finally decided I'd get out too, but when I did get out of the engine, I felt invisible. No one seemed to see me (except Stan); people were bumping into me and cars almost hit me on the street. I stepped up onto the dock and from there, Stan and I boarded some sort of transport system...train? trolley? ferry? it's hard to say. When we were inside, there was a strange, older woman in a loose dress that was talking to me. She had a bullet hole stained in blood on her dress in the location of her vagina. I found this most disturbing. She wouldn't stop talking to me. It suddenly dawned on me, I was dead. Stan was dead. We died in the engine race. Everyone on the vessel was newly dead, and we were being transported to wherever the recently departed go. Whoah. Heavy.

I'm not sure if this dream is a continuation of the dead dream or a new dream's hard to say, but again I was on some sort of vessel and everyone was trying to find a bathroom. I found a stall, which was more like a private bathroom, but the darn door didn't close. I was really frustrated, trying to mess around with the latch. Then some guy came to help me. He looked familiar like I had worked for him in the past at some job, but IRL he didn't look familiar at all in that way. Looked more like Alan Alda. WTF? Haven't even watched a MASH rerun in years. Weird.

Again, I'm not sure where this part of the dream fits in: I was at home and I think someone was visiting, either one of Stan's mom's or my mom. I was showing off our new master bedroom, but it was HUGE! It was like the entire length of our whole house, all porches was just gigantic and long, but not as nice as our real bedroom. It didn't seem quite as finished and the floors seemed older. Then I was going to go upstairs, and again, there was just something a little off about the house. It just wasn't as well cared for as ours seemed a little more run down and the bottom of the stairway was narrower. It was so narrow, in fact, that I got my head caught as I tried to step up. It was extremely painful, and seemed to grasp the tightest around my temples. I was quite scared and was afraid I would have to be surgically removed from the house, but I nonetheless managed to extract myself with some difficulty. I decided not to go upstairs after that.

And finally: Stan was working outside in the front garden. It must have been spring as there were flowers starting to grow. Some 20-something black guys were playing some sort of ball game in our yard and Stan was telling them not to step in the garden. They started saying that sometimes they couldn't control where the ball landed and they couldn't help it if they had to step in the garden (I found this very odd because our front garden area isn't the most convenient of places to play, what with steps going up the middle of it and all). So I came outside and started getting mad and saying stuff like 'yo' and 'know what I'm talkin' about?' making a very feeble white woman attempt at explaining things in their way. I think they left after that because they thought I was a nutso.

Posted by Ann on 12/03/02@10:21 AM CST ..::Link::..

Monday, December 2, 2002

DREAM - Pug jump

I know there was more to the dream than I can remember, but Stan and I were in a room that had a bunch of furniture lying around in a jumble, like we were working on it. Stan was either on a ladder or a stepstool, working on something up high, when Hieronymus started jumping up on all the furniture in order to get to Stan. It freaked me out because I thought the dog was going to fall, so I quickly grabbed him as he jumped up onto something fairly high. It surprisd me how agile he was.

Posted by Ann on 12/02/02@09:02 AM CST ..::Link::..

Sunday, December 1, 2002

DREAMs - Three Different Ones

This is very surreal and hard to explain, but I was online visiting a message forum (I think it was The Cyber Crew, just for the record) and instead of using the requisite smiley icons, someone (I think it was Suzanne Carter-Jackson, just for the record) started inserting actual objects (not just pictures of objects...actual, real, three dimensional textural objects), like figurines, and arranging them in very humorous (and sometimes naughty!) poses, sometimes even on top of eachother. If you can picture this on a webpage. Then other people started posting with actual objects too and the sight of this started cracking me up and I woke myself up laughing.

Next dream I was in a classroom that was for grade schoolers or even preschoolers like the one I used to work in many, many years ago. I think I was a student there, although I think I was adult-size. It was a day we were supposed to get our pictures taken and no one wanted to have their pictures taken. The teacher was out of the room and there were strange sounds outside like trucks. We all turned the lights out, huddled together in a corner on a carpet and hoped that she'd forget about us.

Last dream (although I don't know if I had the classroom dream after or not) I was talking to my mom about food and I outrightly told her that her cooking sucked. When she asked me why, I told her that she uses no spices and that she uses margarine instead of butter (I forgot to mention that she also boils her veggies to death and cooks her fish until it's crusty). She was almost conceding that her cooking was bad.

Posted by Ann on 12/01/02@09:14 AM CST ..::Link::..
By Ann @ 20:56 AM CST:12:20:02 ..::Link::..