dream book

[mtmynd]

Just when I was thinking about putting out an all points bulletin for your whereabouts, here you are.

I can't read anything anymore.
Too restless

Excess will often cause those symptoms... they do me, anyway. Caffeine, sugar, salt, writing, thinking... pick something and it's probably at the top of the list or close to it.

Thinking becomes pretty excessive for me sometimes. I see the restlessness as a signal to hang up mind and give it a rest. I try to find something that requires no thinking, at least very little thinking.

Good luck and welcome back.

[mousey1]

I've suffered that! Not being able to read anything. Wanting to, but the spirit for it just not there. Not being able to do it the justice deserved. I seem able to dabble a bit now again though. Trying to catch up a bit here and there. Sometimes I just sit like a lump unthinking. Not such a bad thing to do, the unthinking. The sitting like a lump maybe not so much. One goes through phases I guess, some lasting longer than others.

[stilltrucking]

Alone
Kerouac floating on his heavenly cork donut looking back on his earth
and the joy he brought
He spent his time here well.

A dream last night this morning me floating on my USS Titanic life ring looking back on the earth
observing watching naught

I was a penquin in a cartoon
not a blind turtle
floating amid the
flotsam, jetsam of a
ship wrecked plantet.

A blind turtle on the bottom of the ocean who surfaces every thousand years and just happens to put his thead through a hollow log floating somewhere on the surface, how rare that would be

"it is just that rare for a being to gain human birth. To be born with a precious human body is to be born with the perfect vehicle to attain realization"

A low spot
trying to spare you all the clinical details
even so these are still my good old days
thanks for reading mouseyone

[SadLuckDame]

A dream last night this morning me floating on my USS Titanic life ring looking back on the earth
observing watching naught

WOW, Jack, not sure how I missed this, but I like that dream and can picture it somehow, though I've never before dreamed it; with there being naught to watch nor look back on.

Here are some jotted down ones from last night. I've been going to sleep disturbed for three days.

I went to the wrong house, there was bath water running and I decided to take it for myself, even though it was meant for another. But as I climbed in I noticed how ill I had become, for I'd filled it with blood and bone chips; which I pushed down the drain. (On a side note, a recurring theme lately)

I'd found a haunted house to explore, once inside I couldn't get spooked much, all the familiarity, for I noticed most of the furniture inside was mine; all my precious broken and scratched up pieces.

I had found a way to heal from a small brook. Some asked me how had I? and I directed them to how easy it was to find, for it was only a few steps away outside. But, there was a special method to be able to drink from it--had to soak my hands together, dip them in deep, but just as I was about to pull them out (cupped) I had to push them down quick, then bring them up. Had to push out the negative lurking there too or else I would come up empty handed.

[jackofnightmares]

I would walk through hell on Sunday
for her on studio eight
fortunately for me she can take care of herself

It was a funny dream, sometimes I go to sleep listening to a audio tape, sometimes it will be Raymand Chandler novel, sometimes tape called, Chop Wood Carry water. I think I was listening to the Zen tape.

Condensation in dreams is interesting how the artist handles that.

The wrong house dream, I have had that a few times probably more than I remember, I dream about water a lot, hardly every about blood.
just comparing notes, not competing.
you are a poet, you always get their first.

I hve two haunted houses

their is much love in this house, and I still feel her aura protecting me from the evil eye.


There is another house with a store front in my childhood. It took me years and years and years to overcome my dread.

I repeat myself a lot.
Speaking of that I sometimes feel like I am channeling Gertrude Stein. She circumsized my heart.
She reminds me of her for some reason

[SadLuckDame]

I've been trying to make attempts to put together a book of poetry for him, this week collecting what photos I'll use and some edits, etc. but then I find out I'm not even sure how to do a do it yourself one. Gotta find the link Doreen posted about it earlier.

Yes, balled up fists and whatnot. I sent him a picture of my glaring fiercely. Not sure why I thought it a good one to send, just wanted to at the time, let him see my faces I s'pose.

Maybe she'd naught, but maybe she just likes to feel you're close somehow or other. The comfort that lies there.

I might still be sleeping. I'll let you know later.

I don't know why all the blood either.
Used to just be water.

You the writer.

[stilltrucking]

I am the tax man today
twp more days

I might be repressing the blood dreams
as I was writing I had a memory from "a remote consciousness" of a dream about being in a house where a murder occured or was going to happen or some kind of threat in the dream. It was spooky as hell. I was about the age of the kid in that picture, that house is where the dreamed occured I was in a hallway on the third floor, there was a large knife in the dream. Maybe from some movie I had seen. Hell of a dream, still traces of it sixty years later
That house in the picture, I can not begin to describe the neighborhood. Two blocks from the water front. In the middle of a ghetto, six locks on the door the nightime shut out. Railroad tracks running down the street in front of it, foggy nights with gas street lamps, maybe there was a murder happening outside on the street.


Death and taxes
Got to go now.

still glaring?

[SadLuckDame]

Ha! Ha! Well sort of glaring, maynot in the same way, I've mixed it up a tad. I'd show you the latest except I wouldn't post it here and you're not thrilled with pms

When you post this sort of thing, then you're speaking to my childhood entwined with my Grandmother; all railroad, black coal and too many mouths to feed. Was a hell of a way to grow up and it lurked in all the pretty faces.

[stilltrucking]

Ha! Ha! Well sort of glaring, maynot in the same way, I've mixed it up a tad. I'd show you the latest except I wouldn't post it here and you're not thrilled with pms Razz

Don't show me, don't talk it away
If you can ever post it here I can wait.

When you post this sort of thing, then you're speaking to my childhood entwined with my Grandmother; all railroad, black coal and too many mouths to feed. Was a hell of a way to grow up and it lurked in all the pretty faces.

I have told you my worst nightmare from childhood. It is not that one. It is still fresh in my mind as if I just woke up from it. Still vivid in my memory is the dream about the underground hospital. I have wrote about it here on S8 a couple of times, once with you I think.

[SadLuckDame]

I won't, don't worry.

cause you already have the first glare
and the second one to follow
if I create the poem book.
166 pages of poetry,
but might not use a lot of them.

Yes, and it scared me too.

[stilltrucking]

I was walking down the street who should I meet but the catfish. He gave me a beautific smile, and I glared back at him.
A sad memory, something I don't want to forget. In case I meet him again, I want to remember to smile.

Women smile more than men I have read.

[SadLuckDame]

Oh boy watch out for a catfish grin.
It means he's up to it.

[stilltrucking]

I like this video, a video within a video. "Come on now" the man with the white hair walking away. the camera jars the videographer says "Come on now" what did the man with the snowy white hair do. or was it a woman? Maybe they just walked in front of the camera. I don't know why that interested me so. I am posting the embed but if you watch it on YouTube you can read the comments, some very very hostile. Interesting too, grist for the keyboard mill.

<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/K3pEOHd-28o&hl ... ram><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/K3pEOHd-28o&hl ... fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>

Oh well
There used to be a student of film posting on studio eight, now that she graduated she don't come by much anymore.

Thinking catfish this song comes to mind an old boyfriend of my baby sisters, everyone called him D.J. He was a motherless child and a gifted musician. He did this song better than any other version of have heard.
I wash I had a tape of him playing.

<center>Well the first days are the hardest days,
Don't you worry any more, 'Cause when life looks like easy
Street, there is danger at your door.
Think this through with me, let me know your mind.
Woh - oh, what I want to know, is are you kind?

It's a buck dancer's choice my friend; better take my advice.
You know all the rules by now and the fire from ice.
Will you come with me, won't you come with me?
Woh - oh, what I want to know, will you come with me?

Goddamn, well I declare, have you seen the like?
Their walls are built of cannonballs, their motto is
Don't tread on me. Come hear Uncle John's Band playing
To the tide, come with me, or go alone.

It's the same story the crow told me;
It's the only one he knows.
Like the morning sun you come and like the wind you go.
Ain't no time to hate, barely time to wait,
Woh - oh, what I want to know, where does the time go?

I live in a silver mine and I call it Beggar's Tomb;
I got me a violin and I beg you call the tune
Anybody's choice, I can hear your voice.
Woh - oh, what I want to know, how does the song go?

Come hear the Uncle John's Band by the riverside
Got some things to talk about, here beside the risin' tide
Come hear Uncle John's Band playing to the tide,
Come on along, or go alone,
He's come to take his children home.
Woh - oh, what I want to know, how does the song go?

Come hear Uncle John's Band by the riverside,
Got some things to talk about here beside the risin' tide.
Come hear Uncle John's Band playing to the tide, come on
Along or go alone, he's come to take his children home.

</center>

[stilltrucking]

Sitting her like a cab driver waiting for a call
SmilingJacky's taxi service.
Can't drive so I type

I bought my car from Lew Welch.
The one with the whistle in the alternator
the leaking water pump
and the knocking knees

Rain two days
sunshine comeing thorgh my afternoon window.

Best advice I got from kurt vonnegut was listen to the music
I got my garden in
too muddy to workit
taxes done and the aftermath cleared a way, finally got my chess board set up, four moves into a game with jitterbug.

Crazy Mike would sit at his chess board for hours, playing by him self, preparing for a tournament.

[SadLuckDame]

I didn't call the number, but I did write a short message and sent it off to where-ever all the lost e-mails go. Left me blue, prolly a song.

Thought I'd replied to this with you, had had a dream I was gonna put up and not sure what I did. Can't recollect the whole of it now, but it was his tiny face in the window, his smiled splashing out to the streets with recognition and joy to be thought of, but at the door I told his grandmother I couldn't see him, wasn't allowed for it was against some stupid rules and blah, blah.
She understood.

I went out front helping other young kids find something, and out of the corner of my eye I kept catching glimpses of him in the window; first the confusion, then a touch of sad, followed by the lip and tears.

Damn, the stupid rules.
And so I waved with a genuine smile right at him. Made it to the window and pressed my hand against the glass where his small one was.

Later on something, something, then I saw him walking. I couldn't believe he was walking, because he wasn't supposed to, and it was a miracle.

Happiest dream I've had in a long time.