dreamattack | a dialogue in pictures

How in the hell can they expect me to go back to work, when THIS is in my bed, siren-calling to my in warm sleepy syrupy strains … “coooome back to beeeeeeedddd moooommmmmmy….” must resist urge to sleeeeeeeeeep

“weeee allllllll floattttttt dooowwwwwwwwn heeeere, mooommmmmmmmy.” ack! wrong dream!!

Brothers gotta cuddle up in a big warm pile of soft sleepy pussy. So difficult to resist. Maybe I can sleep for a little bit longer. I don’t have to be in until 11am.

you make the sun shine … keep me warm at night

sometimes you are my guiding light

when I’m weak or desperate, you’ll stretch out your hand …

it’s a hand that offers courage; it’s a hand that calms me down + leads me to a land
that we discovered countless lives ago - still young enough to change this wicked world

so tell me, Angel, where to now?

shall we chase rainbows; ride the stars by night?
stay close … be my second sight
show me our tomorrows, ‘cos I can’t dream alone

shall we chase rainbows; ride the stars by night?
stay close … be my second sight
show me our tomorrows, ‘cos I can’t dream alone

prithee ~ edward ka-spel

Look at my happy boys watching them birdies!

As you can see from “kitty-tv” this morning, not only is breakfast-time busy at the bird feeder, but we have snow! Work has delayed opening until at least noon — with the possibility of being closed altogether, since we’re supposed to earn at least 1-3 more inches by the time the day is over.

One nice thing about living in the south (and believe me, there aren’t many nice things) is the horror with which snow or any sort of inclement weather is treated. I didn’t understand it at first, having spent eight of my formative years mere miles from the Canadian border (Minot, North Dakota), and a total of nine in the midwest (Omaha & Chicago). I thought these silly southerners were just being alarmist idiots, incapable of driving under even the lightest winter weather conditions. I scoffed and proudly plowed my vehicle through conditions that the bravest southerner wouldn’t dare attempt. Work and the Kennedy Expressway didn’t shut down due to a mere seven inches of snow! I was (most recently) a Chicagoan! I could deal with this trivial little powder-dusting.

Then, one January, when the snow came so hard, sudden and fast, I had an epiphany. It could have been the hypnagogic effects of the Nyquil cold medicine, or the combination of fever and the exertion from having to walk four blocks for cough syrup (there are no snow plows in the south); but I realized that the south had it down right. It was like they were a crafty woman who didn’t feel like doing it herself, so instead she’d play frail and let the big strong man do it for her. It was like calling in sick for a mental health day. “Well shore, we could deal with the snow, but we ain’t got no snow plows, and we-all ain’t got no need to lern us how to deal with the snow.”

Eureka! Snow, no matter how light = getting to stay home from work. What the hell was I thinking? The south rocks! Maybe being a southerner isn’t that bad, but I’ll never know.

sometimes I really miss myself. like I’m my own long-lost childhood friend who never writes or calls. sometimes I want to look myself up in a nation-wide criss-cross directory, call myself up and see what I’ve been up to. see how my life’s been going since I last saw myself. how’s B.? how’re the kids(cats)? still working at the library? but I’d never call myself. I’d write my phone number down on a post-it note in red marker, fold the note carefully into quarters and slip it into my pants pocket. then I’d forget about it. later, at home that evening, I’d come across it when emptying my pockets. I’d have a momentary twinge of guilt, remorse, sadness, loss, place it somewhere where I’d remember it, and then promptly forget it. I think I would actually forget it accidentally, on purpose. I think that the deep nauseating fear of discovering that we really didn’t have anything in common anymore would paralyze my will to act. who wants to find out that they don’t have anything in common with their self anymore? I certainly don’t.

although, sadly, I already know the answer.