ornamental

ILLNESS

Friday, December 10, 2004

Warholbirdfinger

Now I know where the idea in my dream came from the other night. I gave Stan a birdfinger photocopy for Valentines day 1983! It wasn't warholized, though. So here it is...Warholbirdfinger:












Posted by Ann on 12/10/04@09:55 AM CST ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

Thursday, December 9, 2004

Epic DREAM and very bad typing problem (lo ng nails)

Currently, my fingernails are the longest they've been in...months? years? In order to properly function as a typist, I would need to cut them. I am making mistakes right and left. But hey, I haven't worked strictly as a typist or macintosh data input design type person for a long time, so screw it.

I'm gonna make typos, and I'm not gonna cut my nails because it takes SO LONG to get them at this perfect point and it would be silly to cut them. Like shaving a healthy head of hair. Like wearing glasses when you have perfect vision. Why spoil it? So from this point on, I am not backtracking to correct typos. Let my nails RULE!!!!

I had the weirdest freaking dream last night As you know, most dreams are not linear, they are more like a spiderweb radiatin out from the center. It is hard to know just where the dream begins and ends and where each nditiual story begins and ends. I got up at 5:48 am this morning o write it down. I will try my best, hoewever, to tell my dream:

I was going to an art show on the UW camus. I didn't get in It was like a bunch of graduate students ad they were alls nobs. There was one exhibit that changed daily...a bunch of rectangular art pieces that someone had to move each night. The building ws very 70s-ish, sort of like the student union at CSU. But I also remember library mall at the UW I remember walking thrugh this library mall area and being very pissed off and getting an idea for my own exhibit of art where I would photocopy my hand in "the bird" position and make a bunch of warhol-type prints of my bbird finger. I went to the art office where snipy art office type women were working (I never got along with them) and asked to use their photocopy machine. Somehow I ended up at a ZKinko's and was using their machines to xerox my hands. I was standing near the entry/exit and I thin *I wa waiting cor stan or someone, an there was this Jack Osborn type kid etering the door and he stares at me and says "happy alloween" (cockney accent not intention...that's my bad index finger unable to reach all h's correctly) and I gor eally mad at him because I assumed he was thinking (or "ironialy") thinking that I was wearing a costume, which I was't, I was just in street clothes, but evidntially my street clothes weren't up to his standard so I think I tell him to f-off or something, but then I take him by the collar and I'm lecturing him on how everyone looks like a damn dork nowadays or damn toddlers and no one knows how to dress well, and when I was his age I could see if people thought I was in costume because I used to dress goth before his daddy even used to so he should shut the hell up (actually, I didn't say all that, because in my dream I didn't think it was Jack osborn, in fact I couldn't even remember ozy's kid's name until a few minutes ago, but znyway, you get the point, I was pretty pissed at this smart aleck). At some point in time, however, I'm ,ooking at a magazine, jsut flipping through it and I see what appears to be a young Roger Wters, so I stop at the page and look at the pciture, and I also see Syd Barrett...looks aroud 1967. Roger is wearing a pattenred shirt (like he did back then) and he has the collar pulled up around his face like he is hiding. Syd is wearing a white shirt. I start reading the article, but it's like it's video or I'm THERE or something...the article is saying it's some sort of festivl in England...some sort of hippie wedding thing but then everyone that is around me (alas, neithr Roger nor Syd were there in the flesh in the rdeam at that point.) is wearing black and the music sounds rather funerary and vrey unpsychedulellic. (yes, I now how to spell psychedellic, silly). Then at another point in the dream, Stan and I are in this methodist churh that I used to babysit in back when I was a teen ad it's as if it is a grade school with little chairs and tables for the kids. We're walking into the classrom...i dion't know why, and we expain that we're late. I'm dead tired, and I collapse on the floor. The kids are working on some sort of fimo pottery scuptures, but they're using it way too thick. I take some discared scraps o it and put it together and make a crystal vase...literally, a crystal vase out of fimo. Then it's as if stan's parents, both his adoptive mom and dad (who ids deceased) are ther and stan says he has to ask them for something. He tells his dad that he can't ask hm (becaus ehe's dead?) so he asks his mom instead He asks here for moey. I don't know wny. Then at another part in the dream, Stan and I are walking around the area that is in back of Bernie's rock shop, or maybe it's by Johnson and Fist...I don't now.. Some people drive by in a brow pickup. They're younger than us by at least a deade and we only vaguely know them through Tim. I think they're teahers or something. They'r supposed to met us at somer restaurant. They go ahead n their vehicle, and Stan and I walk to the restaurant. I'm getting old feet about wantint to meet them there. We see them outside the restaurant, a d perhaps this is where the ream starts over.

I know that was torturous reading, but I'm still not cutting my naisl and ZZI'm sick of havinb to backgrack. Some day they will split and break and tear, and my typoing will be perfect again, but until now, enjoy my brain damage (when you read people's wriging online when they have really bad typing skills or gra mmar or when they type ike this: (What RU going 2 do 2nite?) don't you read it to yourself and think, "this person has brain damage?" or is it just me?

Posted by Ann on 12/09/04@12:15 PM CST ..::Link::..2 Screamers.
By Ann @ 09:55 AM CST:12:10:04 ..::Link::..Whisper or Scream?

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