listening

the do . a mouthful
four tet . ringer, rounds
dorian concept . when planets explode
robyn . body talk
xtc . drums and wires
kasai allstars . in the 7th moon, the chief turned into a swimming fish and ate the head of his enemy by magic
m.i.a. . m a y a
nina simone . pastel blues

dream

i was living in some kind of future. we had found a really old fossil group encased in a capsule. they had opened it, ooed at it, and walked away. i had looked in and found a shell like a dessicated snail shell (just like the one on our window ledge in waking life). my scanner went crazy for signs of hostile intelligence. i practically dropped it out of surprise and fear. i ran it back to the capsule then inside to tell everyone. i realized that i was wearing a child size body and that no one was paying attention to me as a result. two of our group were in the middle of falling in love. and another i had shown the scanner to was trying to help me convince them to bottle the thing in the capsule back up. 'it's some kind of hostile alien, guys, and if we don't do something right now, it's going to get out!' i fairly screamed. the two love birds were saying their sweet nothings. i kept nervously looking outside. 'look, just because i'm wearing this body does not mean i don't know what's up!' i glanced outside and a sleek, glossy black, slightly smaller than a man sized creature popped out of the capsule and ran onto a nearby bus which left immediately. 'did you see that?' i asked the one guy. he hadn't. cat's out of the bag.

in a later dream i was able to fly for short distances. i seemed to have some sort of helicopter, though i never saw the body of it, it was simply that i would lift up for a period, then come back down. sort of like in a video game.

if you love me
and i am you
then you love you.

me and you and everyone we know

just watched this. disturbing. amusing. pleasantly weird. ambientish chill electronic music score. highly enjoyable all around.

i'm thinking about god lately. as ever.

i am gentle with myself. i see the places that i wish to be different and i make moves to remember my highest vision.

sometimes i eat fresh vegetables. sometimes i eat cookies. sometimes i drink coffee. mostly i embrace cliff, clean living is freedom forever. i have seen the effect that programs can have on my systems. the smoke program is corrupt, for example, regardless of what subprogram you are delivering with the smoke. these things bring confusion. i am grateful to work where i am now, for it is making me oh so sick of sugar and caffeine. i see its grip on myself and others. i see the delight in their eyes as i give them their drugs and take their money. would you like a sample? first time's for freeee. surgeon general's warning: may cause diabetes and low level stress of which you will have no perception. rather, it will just be your life, and only if your drugs are inaccessible will your quality of living seem less.

i ride my bike everywhere now. my body has changed. slimmer, leaner, more efficient. good food tastes even better after twenty miles on a bicycle. the city comes alive when you move through it. power lines hum (really). statues see the sky. and all of our lonely hearts, come to gawk. this city contains every small town to which i have ever been. riding down a street in an unfamiliar area, i may find a street whose homes and stop signs and fences and children look just like a street elsewhere in the state. the hologram city.

the night is a different world. silent city streets lined with sleeping cars all bundled into the curb for the night. the whisper of ten million leaves in the park. you can't tell what kind of neighborhood you're in when it is dark. the only defining characteristic is the commonality of sleep. no one escapes. i have scarcely felt so free as when i ride at night. the quiet hum of a people and their technology breathing their energy in and out, giving and taking.

i don't know what to say about prior postings. life changes so much. three years gone, and while i recognize the man who wrote before me now, i find it hard to relate. the dreams are particularly hard to hear myself in. zombies?!? wow.

my dreams now are so liquidy. living in a soft place. i 'read meters' in my dreams still. really, that means that i wander around talking to people and exploring the world. weirdness happens less and less. scariness is nonexistent. i love dreaming.

family life comes and goes. mostly, it is good. marriage and fatherhood continue to teach their ways. i listen when i can. sometimes, i struggle.

i am gentle with my friend jaymi.

i am gentle with my friend isa.

i am gentle with my friend joshua

i remember to remember.

music and dance

i spent the last 45 minutes dancing to my reclaimed vinyl coursing through my headphones and liquidancing all around the basement. isa was playing a computer game. i had forgotten how much i love electronic music and dance. i had for so long relinquished my love for electronic. i had given up. i realize now that this was due to the fact that i had ceased to dance to it. i think that the human component is essentially missing from electronic until you put it back in there with your body. flowing and bending to the beats revived in me a sensation and love for the dance, a feeling that i had been unknowingly missing and mourning. i feel so free and full of life, a motion that does not cease, and which bubbles forth with the vitality of youth. i feel like i am nineteen again, pulsing my body to a beat at a party with trippy light shows falling down the walls, and psychedelics plying my brain with ecstatic visions and sensations. i do not miss the nastiness of those times, but i am remembering the joy and the life.

dream

i was hanging out with sean and his family on a sofa in front of a restaurant, or something. we were chatting and watching the scenery. another sean, from earlier in the dream, who was a pothead, came up behind us to talk to me. i introduced him, and we were all mildly amused at the two sean factor [not a first, yet more unlikely than two joshuas]. the pothead sean started singing a little song about marijuana, and how 'marijuana pays for everything,' implying that he sold it. sean's dad went a particularly vivid shade of red and stared off into space, as my friend sean was laughing the kind of laugh that implied that he wouldn't mind buying some. i cleared my throat, and told pothead sean to bug off.
later, with my old boss, bob, i was relating the story to him. we had walked into his garage. every surface in it was covered in this off-white fake (or perhaps real) large grain leather (think cheap leather couch), including his explorer, inside and out. he began donning a suit made of the same material, with a shirt and tie to match. remarkably, i did not comment, i simply took this sort of thing to be normal behavior. i was saying to bob, 'i just couldn't believe he would be so disrespectful in front of his parents.'