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DREAM: In the ocean not far from the shore – the water is
deep – the water is blue green – floating in a circle with 4 or 5 other people
including my mother and the actor, Mickey Rourke. We’re hanging onto these
plastic clear tubes that are connected to each other. Underneath, Mickey’s
machine is transforming/revving up. It’s supposed to be some kind of futuristic
motorcycle. Words exchanged between my mother and I, “I’m still in love with
you…” I swim over and take her in my arms to hold her up out of the water
because she is struggling. The ocean begins to get choppy and waves are
billowing up. I yell at Mickey Rourke, “How long does this damn thing take?!”
referring to the machine. “I don’t know…20 minutes or so!” In the distance, we
see a colossal wave coming our way. “We can’t wait any longer. We have to get
on the beach!” Quickly, we make our way out of the water. Mickey and I start
climbing a wall made of light brown carpet with crevices built into the sides
for us to put our hands in. I’m hanging up about 20 feet and turn around to see
how far the wave is. My mother and a little girl are just now getting onto the
shore. I’m concerned the wave will hit them. But the wave gradually gets
smaller and crashes right behind them – water rushing around their feet.
Everybody is okay.
2:22 p.m. I get out of bed.
Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran Cereal with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar,
and Blueberries. Orange Mango Juice. Zinc and Alfafa.
My mother receives her mother’s day gift finally. (see above
painting)
I fill dirt into the holes on the side of the house.
Stretching and Pandora Radio.
I watch part of a documentary on dreams over Lunch: Grilled
Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips with Avocado. Green Tea.
I create a blue guitar strap.
I finish lyrics for a song.
Apple.
Tennis with Art. A grey moth lingers in the middle of the
court throughout the whole match.
Dinner with Margot at the house: Fettuccine Alfredo with
Chicken. Broccoli. Garlic Toast. Chardonnay.
Paris, je t’aime (2006). Strawberries and Whipped
Cream.
I experience a sudden state of melancholy thinking about the
dread of losing someone close to me through death. I’m not sure what sparked
these feelings. This quickly goes away.
She’s upset, sitting on the white sleeper couch in the
dining room.
♂:
“What’s wrong with you?”
♀:
“You don’t want to have a chocolate syrup party!”
…
♂:
“You’re fragile. You’re more fragile than you appear.”
The contrast of the giggles and laughter in the attic with
the tears and distress in the living room feels like a tender movie scene. The
ups and downs of “twin high maintenance machines.”
I know it’s important to you as well as it is for me. But
I can’t offer you that kind of security. What is it about you that I can’t
resist? An addiction I can avoid a little easier from a distance but not from a
microscopic view.
If n-♥ then ♂≠♀
Hot shower.
Painting glasses.
Sleep around 7:20 a.m.
[i] Acrylic
Painting by me.
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[i]
