EARLY DAWN POISON DREAM

Weird Tales Cover

These poison dreams are killing me... They derive from sleep medication mixed with pain medication and I hardly take nothing of the latter... The dream last night had me and a bunch of old friends, "the gang" that I thought at the time would never split up, but misunderstandings and marriage done killed the lot, and we were at this very large outdoor mall type of place and I was grabbed away from them as we were all on skateboards supposed to go somewhere and I had to take care of a semi pretty, kinda homey young girl and her little brother and do a "radio" show set up outside some stores and no one paid us any mind, like it was a normal thing... The show based on my own internet podcast and then suddenly the violence that had occurred earlier happened and she was or seemed to be killed by a gunshot blast that literally turned her into a stick of hay that seemed like a few frozen entrails or something horrible but even that was too tragic being that her parents trusted me, or someone that I was lying about having met who she asked about and I lied... It was like reading a "Thriller" book or watching a complicated Cold War movie halfway through and I was the star and she was alive it turns out and by the time my friends returned they were glad to see me but since I was away so long, so involved in gunplay and a strange girl who got prettier by the time they saw her, all my friends treated me differently... Aloof, envious, and kind of afraid...

BOGUS SUICIDE NOTE FROM HADES

Finally fitting this blog's title

My life is on the verge and will soon crash and burn... It's scary but I am preparing soon to have nothing and to live with even less... Soon I will move all my furniture into this little bedroom where I'm typing this now and won't have anywhere (or maybe it's any where) else to go... Like a cowboy in a Western I'm trapped by the Indians and they're my own fucking family... I have nothing against them and I even love them and like them but I followed the boat and am drowning and sinking and most sink first but I'm going the other way around and this makes no sense and nothing makes sense at the moment... I have everything set up so my family will get money if I'm gone and believe me they'll be happy after their sad... I've had a few very close funerals in the last decade and I know that quickly following a funeral they go to eat and smile at the waitress, even if she does a lousy job... Goodnight, for now, but not yet goodbye...

AT THE GATES OF SLUMBER

The Pink Floyd

Damn I hate when that happens... Something occurs in a dream and then a specific detail you forget completely and that was the thing that tied it all together in remembering it for to write about it... Morning and people and waiting and coffee obscures that movie show were your brain's the flickering projector or perhaps the screen... Oh well I do remember the dream's template or main plot or whathaveyou... The most popular girl in my junior high who didn't like me but loved my best friend who was better looking than me, was or is now a normal kinda chunky clean though not gorgeous lady but still has that power and is cute and is at my friend's house listening to Pink Floyd, and what I'd forgotten is the specific song title... It was early Floyd but not Syd Barrett early... I told her how great it was she of all people is into Floyd, a band that I adored as a teen and still kinda do... We hit it off in the dream and not to be conceited but it's something that happens lately... Girls who didn't look at me then suddenly take slight visual interest now because I've lost weight and look alright compared to then... Doesn't matter really what particular "then," for it's all "then" to me... My best years were as a beautiful blond-haired young kid (before I morphed into a wry Italian) and then I hit an awkward stage that lasted oh about thirty-five galdarn years... Anyhow when I woke up it was one of those very nice dreams you continue not only to think about but you prolong it like writing a play, and me and this girl were set-up to date and my friend who isn't really uptight in real life, was suddenly kind of a cockblocking dick, and told her to keep the Floyd record (it played on a turntable) down low... We, my buddy and I, were about to hit a music store where he was to buy a brand new amp and I was thinking of doing a last minute crazy thing to make him jealous and buy a guitar but then this girl, these girls since she had a friend who is or was also a friend of mine, came into the dream and it was especially her, the girl who never even gave me the time of day and that "now" suddenly dug me and Pink Floyd: it's her and her alone that stuck (and still sticks) with me...

REALLY SORE DEADLY OLD BONES

Buddy Rich Blues Caravan LP

Playing this Buddy Rich Blues Caravan LP till my record player explodes and my bones are still hurting from this weekend... It was another Hollywood Show where you walk in circles and get autographs and spend way too much money on actors well past their prime... I met Karen Austin who was John Candy's wife from one of my favorite time-filling comedy programmers, SUMMER RENTAL, and instigated a reunion with veteran actor Richard Herd, also from that movie... Mostly the actors and actresses have pictures that are cheap and glossy but I get them to sign Blu Rays and DVDs, Posters and Lobby Cards and usually original and the money I spend I don't mind, but I had no idea that the business was already losing money and in dire straits and that I should not have gone to the show at all... I sit and listen though to Buddy Rich and found out the name of his Vibes player and just downloaded his one good vintage 1960's album to my phone and also ordered the semi-pricey LP the same place I did this Buddy album that's jamming like a thunderstorm... Anyhow it's taking quite a lotta pain pills and a proper amount of B-movies to get me over the soreness of this weekend... Gonna see the female GHOSTBUSTERS on Thursday, which is tomorrow, actually, following a checkup at the allergist... Mainly though just waiting till I can walk around the downstairs of this haunted ghost house that my sister died in and that my dead nephew wanted to live the rest of his life in without feeling an immense amount of pain... That's the price of getting old: you cannot do the things you used to not think anything of, like breathing, humming a tune, existing, and going to the bathroom...

DREAMS AND LORD OF APES

One of 24 books

It's the little things that keep happening and I wish they wouldn't... I think I'm a born klutz because I keep dropping and breaking things... Or not breaking them but dropping them like my makeshift bookmark in one of 24 new, or actually old Tarzan books from the 1960's, and I had on a new pair of headphones and they caught on a cabinet knob and broke right headphone and almost my eardrums... I have had some bad dreams lately but nightmares are different when you're older than when you're a kid... That monster chasing you becomes something you lost from your past and you in turn are chasing it... And while the monster never caught you, which made it more and more frightening, same thing occurs as you never capture that thing you lost and in dreams you... Or rather I try and try and last night it was the girl that got away, I was 27 and she was 19, so beautiful... Young and beautiful... All the women in movies are girls, from the 1930's till now and now that I'm older I'm supposed to hook up with older women who are passed their prime and I get to hear about the jerks in their past and those jerks "got" these women when they were girls and I being a non-jerk nice guy am stuck with the women after they've been used up by bad guys and the biggest jerk of all, Father Time: you bastard!

GOES BOOM IN THE NIGHT

Across from where I lived

I think I forgot to post here yesterday which is alright... This way it won't be a contrived journal but more of something that is added to as many times as possible, how a diary or journal or whatever it's called should be... Woke up with a headache and my bones hurting and this has occurred several times this year so far, and last year too... I will sit in the bathroom and wait for it to pass, can't move my legs even to walk the few strides to the kitchen to get something edible, not for at least an hour at which point I'll go back to bed and just lie there... This occurs during the weekends of course when I'm able to sleep all day and I don't mind so much losing an entire day but tomorrow is the holiday of July 4th, and not much is going on for me on that day, either... I remember years ago when my nephew, who died last year, and I were driving around and I showed him a powerful firecracker and yet I was so afraid to let it off, which wasn't a big deal it was just a firecracker... Anyhow we, he and I, walked across the street from where I lived, at the plush (being sarcastic, it was crappy) Royal Gardens Apartments directly across from the Cypress (Junior) College running track, and it was during the noisy 4th nighttime and I lit up the thing and by the time it went off I was running across the street in fear of being caught... Caught letting off a firecracker on a night when Mexicans were sending rockets exploding in the air above neighboring Buena Park... And Austin, who'd soon grow into a very intrepid risk-taker, was walking cooly to my frantic run... I always remember that night, how fearful I was and how he wasn't... I wish he would have grown up more a wuss like his Uncle... He'd have his tail between his legs, sure, and perhaps he'd exist a likeminded passive-aggressive wimp with absolutely no life but he would be alive... Anyhow, this doesn't mean much and not sure what today will bring since I slept in till 3pm...

NEW OLD JAZZ ADDICT

John Coltrane

Another day more money spent either on movies or music and the movies are ordered online and so is the music but the music sure comes a lot faster unless it's my new addiction within an already in-place addiction of jazz music, and it's gotta be the old stuff not like people when it comes to for example Classical who listen to Mozart one minute and then some "modern Classical" artist the next... Lord knows how Classical music could possibly be modern but I have heard it and will always know the modern because it sounds like movie soundtrack music which is because the likes of Mozart and Bach and Beethoven read books and based their works on the page and on life and religion and lack of while you just cannot base Classical Music on the air anymore (like Bach, for instance) and my addiction this addiction this new current addition (I meant to write addiction and perhaps this is Freudian) this new compulsion into jazz I do hope I sure hope it lasts because jazz and only old jazz not new jazz is the kind of thing that's keeping me going and have no explanations for it just keep on listening to it that's for you to do not me I'm already trapped in the jazz prison and hopefully will do life without parole there and would even prefer isolation than get off this kick of jazz yeah jazz so jazzed on jazz.

TARZAN & DAY AFTER BIRTHDAY

Tarzan Comic Book

Promised to write this blog journal thing once a day and this is the day following my birthday and I've become like one of those pathetic old women, and don't want to say exactly how old I am, especially to the young girls I hang out with, a few who knew my nephew who died around this time last year, I raised him since he was a kid and spent so many hours just sitting there watching him do karate in those places put up, winged out from shopping markets and all the kids are sure to get brown belts in no time, if they pay and they wouldn't be there without paying... Not saying karate for kids is a sham but this pretty much was and my other nephew went to another place down the street, and the guy seemed nice, think he was Russian or something, but the candy he sold in the connected/adjoined "waiting room" was a bit strange, or rather, it was strange that he sold candy at all... Anyhow tonight saw TARZAN and the guilt-driven generation doesn't know they're being force-fed political correctness, so much so it's part of their bloodstream... But who am I? Part of a generation called X that the Boomers, who still write the book of living-life and life-living yet still can't figure out the dying part, couldn't figure out... We grew up with Fonzie and Mork & Mindy and The A-Team and never protested a war in our young-prime so we don't know nothing about anything... That's fine by me... I'm reading now, tonight and have been for a month... Edgar Rice Burroughs lately and tonight is making that time wasted earlier worthwhile... This was a free movie as my mother paid for it... Last night we had a birthday dinner, which followed the family gathering last Saturday... She's good to me, mom, and yet we know each other too well, her and I...

JAZZ DUCK SLEEPLESS BIRTHDAY

Picture of a Duck

Been listening to jazz, taking to it like a duck to water. It's really where all music began, at least the creative stuff. Classical music, yeah that's God's jazz but the stuff I'm listening to belongs to man, this man, grown, fully grown and too old at this point, just turned 47 today and tonight have a new John Coltrane album on the headphones and will drive, get a drink to go to sleep... chocolate milk not booze... and watch more obscure TV... that's what it's been lately... Just keeping up appearances and don't see anyone really much... Used to go all the time to the movie theater but don't even have the soul in my bones for that trip anymore, about twenty-minutes down the best street in Orange County, called Springdale, makes its way mostly to the beach and sure beats boulevards Beach and Golden West and hope to get some sleep tonight... It's been an on/off thing... Every other night I'll get no sleep and it saddens me deeply, and tortures me too...