Daily Aggravations and Regrets
and various random thoughts

January 6th, 2003. Monday
 

 
    Well, let's see. The new year celebration was a mixed bag. I spent it at Miss Charming Melodee's apartment.  There was  fondue, champagne, beer, wine, speed scrabble, limbo, break dancing, exposing of genitals, bad mustaches, broken glass, head injuries, falling TVs and VCRs,  and a countdown observance on the water where we saw fireworks from lower and upper Manhattan.  So, mostly, it was good leading up to and shortly after midnight.  After going back to my place, Miss CM was summoned back by her just-returned roommate, who was most displeased with the trashing of the apartment and front steps, mostly done by Miss CM's out of town guests. So she had to go back at 4 in the morning and clean up. Which meant I had to go back at 4 in the morning and clean up.  Anyway, I'd hurt my head while doing a backspin and crashing into a cast-iron leg of a table, and hurt my knees doing the worm and in a limbo contest, so I found myself muttering "This is fucking bullshit" more than once while carrying bottles and piles of broken glass.  The evening would have been generally OK if not for that, but that just sort of soured the entire experience.


    I had a series of weird dreams last night and this morning.  In one, I was sitting in the apartment of my former neighbor Rachel. She had much shorter hair than her current short haircut, and I was asking her about a watch she had given her boyfriend.  She said he loved it, then handed me the watch, which I assumed was the one she gave him, and told me to set it up.  It had three different times on it, so I went about that, while she carried on conversations with various other people.  I don't know why I worked on the watch so diligently, but it was important to me that I get it just right.

    Later, back at home this morning, I took a short nap and had another strange little dream.  I was leaving a museum, where for some reason I think I was taking a class. Rodzilla happened to be leaving the museum at the same time, but we didn't speak. I just kept walking ahead of her. I think she said something kind of snide to me as we went through the revolving door.  After getting on the street, we walked the same way for a little bit, then went our separate ways. After that, i started running, normally at first, but then I got down on all fours an started running in the manner of a cheetah or some other big cat.  For some reason, this seemed to be the faster way to go.  I actually used to do this for fun as a child when I'd be playing in the backyward or something.  In the dream, I wondered why I ever stopped running like this.  So then I get to this beat-up old house, where I can hear parts of a conversation outside.  Two black teenagers are talking about playing college basketball, and how the NCAA required everyone to take an HIV test.  One kid said he just applied early to Georgia. So then all three of us are in the kitchen of this run-down old house. They're still talking, and I'm getting ice cubes out of the freezer for my ginger ale or whatever.  Anyway, I don't have the faintest what these dreams mean. Well, maybe I could hazard a guess.
    The Rachel part of the dream- I've been playing guitar with her a bit lately, when she has time away from her band.  We've played a few of the songs she wrote.  Her boyfriend is also in her band, and I don't really like what he does to the songs.  So the setting the watch business, I suppose, could represent her music, and the small bits she throws me to work on, and then she goes off and works on her other stuff, represented in the dream by the conversations with other people while I'm working on the watch. As for why her hair is drastically different, I guess it could mean that I see her differently from how she really is.  This might possibly stem from a conversation I had with Matt and Jed the other night about her.  Anyway, I think I've got that part figured out.
    As far as the Rodzilla part of the dream, the only part I can really hazard a guess at is the running away part.  Both the running away and how I was doing it. Now that I think about it, what's most striking about this is that I was able to run at all. Normally in my dreams, when I try to run, I'm suddenly weighed down and can't even stand up.  It's very frustrating, and I think that's a manifestation of real-life frustrations.  But in this dream, I was free not only to run, but to choose various running options.  I guess it could be somewhat telling that I ended up running away like I did, in a form I used as a child.
Then again, maybe not.

    In other news, Miss Charming Melodee and I ordered the latest Austin Powers movie on cable last night. We were bored and wanted something mindless to watch, and neither of us was too excited about the movie.  If we had been, we'd have seen it long ago.  So I was more than pleasantly surprised about how hilarious it was. The plot was paper-thin and made little sense, but there were so many little bits that were absolutely hilarious. I really hadn't laughed that much at a movie for a long time.  The Goldmember character was particularly uproarious. As was the opening sequence.

    I had a hankering for blueberry muffins yesterday, so I went to the store and picked up some muffin mix. I bought two boxes- one Duncan Hines "Maine Blueberry" deluxe stylee, and one 79 cents Jiffy brand imitation blueberry muffin mix.  When I got back to my apt., I told Miss Charming Melodee that the Duncan Hines was for her, and the Jiffy for the mistress.  I was kidding, of course. About the mistress I mean, not the muffins.  I just thought it was kind of funny to think about making low-quality muffins for your strumpet.  But I think I'm going to start using "Jiffy" as an adjective for low-quality girls.  Meaning, basically, not worth the trouble. Or at least not worth moderately priced muffins or the hassle of making them.
    It should be said, however, that the Jiffy brand of corn muffins are both super-quick to make, and wonderfully delicious.

Mail to G-Rock

Home
Past Aggravations and Regrets
previous|next

©2003 Three Match Breeze