Feb
16
on armature
When an idea bubbles up, repeating in a daydream fantasy and then it seeps into your night dreams, you don’t ignore the message. You can’t ignore the message. I was trying to place it, to figure out what has jogged this sudden urge for bone, gristle and strength and exposure.
My brand new obsession of creating rigid armatures is a direct response to the shock of my father losing his mobility to the smallest of culprits. The inability see inside or really feel what is going on in our bodies, the dearth of communication between body and mind, the mystery that still exists despite all our science, has lead me to feel like extending and exposing and reinforcing the body. The shock of the mortal has shaken my search for meaning directly back to the place where it should originate from, the physical form that is so strong and so vulnerable.
This idea is still ungrounded, amorphous; awaiting nurture and work. As I go through the process of creating these pieces, I will post writings and images. Hopefully a real meaning will emerge.
Dec
1
on paucity
State Hospital Interior – Ed Kienholz, 1966
Before I left to go home, before I had to face the depression that has settled over my family, I had profuse and troubling dreams. Nights on night, I woke in a sweat. My shirt so wet I had to change it. My anxiety trying to bleed out through my pores.
One of these dreams had me in a dirty, monastic chamber with no decorations save the condensation rivulets carved into the caked dust on the walls. I was dying of AIDS, so weak I could not even turn myself from that filthy wall. So thirsty, but without the strength to drink and I was completely alone. There was only the dim hum of the oxygen machine, the only medical equipment in the room.
I woke up, shaking, wet, warm and so thankful that I could get up out of bed and quench my thirst.
It’s World AIDS Day today. I could barely think about this dream or articulate it last week, but today I want to have those who are suffering, waiting for the vaccine, for access to drugs and just hoping for some comfort in my heart and thoughts.
Nov
10
on presence
My cat has been unreasonably whiny since we relocated to our new and much larger place. I figured that she would get over crying for hours every morning at the door or at me in the shower, cooking, sleeping. But it’s been months and she is still crying. Ever the mournful cat, howling at the door to horrible freedom. Doesn’t she know, nothing but failed expectations lie behind that door?
What could possibly be troubling my cat? Is the shock of the new? The odor of the neighboring feline? Or something more sinister?
I’ve been troubled by dreams this week. Some full of familiar faces in strange situations. But the most troubling was a lucid dream I had about the presence Viktor. I knew that I was dreaming because I was sleeping on my back. I never sleep on my back. Ever. I could feel the cold descend on my arms and the goose hairs rise up, as Viktor settled down to “communicate” with me. Of course he wanted me to accomplish a task for him that he could not complete in life and even less so in death.
Then he moved down the bed and put pressure on my legs. The bed covers went taut and I could not move my legs. I knew I was dreaming. I knew it, despite how realistic everything in my room was down to the exact daylight.
“Look Viktor, if you want me to do anything for you, you are going to have to leave me the fuck alone while I am asleep or even just at home. I don’t want any of this ‘ghostly’ bullshit.”
The pressure released from my legs. I got up, put on my bathrobe and calmly walked out of my room.
So, could Viktor be bothering my cat in lieu of troubling me directly? I doubt the reality of that situation, but it makes more sense than the constant pain my cat seems to be in now that we are living in a veritable lap of luxury from our small Chinatown studio.
Apr
26
dream journal #3
waking from a nap. i had had a strange and terrible dream. my right breast broke the membrane and part of the breast seeped down to almost create another breast. i tried to put it back in. force it back into the broken membrane and smooth it up along my ribs, but as i was doing so, the nipple split. I had two breasts. I tried to put on my bra to force the two back together, but then it split again. as i woke, in my dream state, i had four breasts. i was beginning to panic.
Apr
19
the warm green of the walls
The sun is streaming in through the your window. Not that I would know if sun actually streams through your window, but its of no importance, I just feel the sun pouring over us. We are laying side by side on your bed. On top of the covers because the air is warm and steamy like it is in late July. We are talking to one and other.
You say to me, “I am glad that we waited. Its been so nice to enjoy the empty city streets with you. To walk uninhibited and laugh out loud.” I ask you what time the shuttle leaves. “We have a few hours yet.”
We settle in, holding hands. “I can’t believe we are on the last one. The last shuttle from Earth.”
You tell me that our time here is over. I tell you that i am so glad that we have these tickets. You squeeze my hand. We just wanted to spend as much time as we could, here, together, before it was over. Drinking up the last seconds of the torpid air and languid sunlight.
Mar
26
words are the vast expanse between us
via Fun Forever
i had a dream that you did not belong in. in the dream, you presented me with a list of reasons why i should be in love with you. your charm, your wit, our shared obsessions. you read them off to me as i sat in a wooden chair and you stood in front of me. i was not moved. then in the dream, you wrapped your arms around my waste from behind me now, and again read me your list. this time whispered in my ear like so many soft secrets, warm and arousing but still i unlaced your fingers and let you go.
Feb
24
improbable dream squence
We are on a plush train, cruising through the night. Pitch black nothing flows by. The train is so dimly light even our reflections are barely ghosts in the windows. The seats are plush and wide. We have plenty of leg room. This no commuter train.
The conductor comes by and punches our tickets, which say our destination is “Nowhere” and puts them under the tab at the back of our seats and leaves us alone. There is no one else in the train car with us. I am reading and you are watching the night go by.
After a time, you reach across and knock the book out of my hands to grasp my breast. Time seems to speed up. Almost suddenly, we are both naked, our clothes seemed to have just disappeared. You pull me on top of you and we are making love. It is exquisite. As we embrace, our skin begins to stick together.
You whisper in my ears, “Relax and let me in.”
I do. Your hands reach into to my skin, disappearing into my back.
We become frantic. Reaching climax, we begin to pull apart. The pain is as intense as the pleasure. Our eyes are locked and, I wake up in a sweat, feeling the same as in the dream.
