Dreamways

"Worker shot in legs when gun fires in cubicle“ (The Denver Post, 01 Nov 07). This headline is not particularly jarring for a jaded 21st century newspaper reader. Gunfire in an office cubicle? Old stuff! Is this a by now overly-familiar scenario of a disgruntled co-worker or dumped lover seeking revenge? Hardly! The story announced by the headline is the humorous stuff of waking dreams.

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Sleep Dream. I’m driving along a dirt country road in the open countryside. Flat, flat terrain, like in Holland, very green. An expanse of grass. Sunny. The feeling that the sea is not too far away, even though not visible. Every so often, there is an object by the side of the road, to the left, on the other side. It seems like they are trees. Not large, perhaps 10 to 15 feet tall, trunks of a 4 to 6 inch diameter.  read more »

I watched the New Zealand movie Once Were Warriors last night. It had been a few years since I’d last seen it. As always, when repeatedly viewing a flick over the years, it is fascinating to note how I respond to the piece each time. This movie is very compelling for me, for numerous reasons. It has evoked huge emotional responses in me. Last night I was able to be more detached as I watched events unfold. Rather than be swept up and away by the story, I was able to observe both the structure of the movie and each character’s unfolding much more closely.  read more »

This movie, with Denzel Washington, Clive Owen and Jodie Foster, is entertaining. Interesting characters. Great shafts of light on the multitude of „issues“ and phobias that U.S. people act upon to protect self and hurt others. Fascinating critique of violence.

More SIGNS OF VIOLENCE. Walking the half block along 13th Ave. from Gaylord to the office, I spottted detritus at the foot of one of the smaller ash trees in the narrow parking strip before Connie’s house. There were dribs and drabs of black plastic, some shards of glass. „Hm,“ I thought, „car accident remains.“ Then I noticed bits of bark. A couple of feet up the trunk was a basketball-sized gash, where a vehicle had crashed into the tree, the yellow wound stripped of bark. Near the sidealk lay a large piece of bark, nearly the size of the gash.  read more »

A good night’s sleep. I awoke to pee and spent some time ruminating about HOA archetypes. When I fell asleep again, it was a deep and resful repose.

When Connie and I arrive at Gypsy House Café this morning, there was no glass in the front door. It seems that someone kicked the glass in last night and absconded with the cash register. Nothing else, not even the rolled up dollar bills in Ganesh’s halo on the counter, was taken. Such an invasion, a violation.

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An interesting event at Monkey Bean yesterday: Mel Mother Fucking Garcia.   I sit down by the front door, saving a chair for F, who was ordering our coffees. The front door opens, an hispanic fellow in his late 30’s, early 40‘s, comes in. He asks me: „Is anyone sitting there?“, referring to the chair I’m saving for F. „Yeah,“ I say. „I’m saving it for my friend.“ With an aggressive tone of voice, he comes back with: „So, where is your friend?!“ „Excuse me?“ „Show me where he is!  read more »

Saulaina sestdienas pēcpusdiena Galopa kafejnīcā. Skaisti pavasaraina diena. Durvis vaļā un mīlīga vēsmiņa danco aplī pa istabu apkārt.

Vakar adīšanas pulciņš sanāca pie Noras un Kendras uz groziņu vakariņām. Sanāca, ka pirmo reizi kopš pirmās bērnības, spēlēju domino.

Daudz par HOA domāts un izjusts. Jūtos daudz nosvērtāks nekā vakar no rīta. Parunājos ar Eidrianu. Viņa dusmas un nesatricināmā pārliecība uzbrucējiem nepadoties mani uzmundirnāja.

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In the mail Saturday (a gorgeous, sun-drenched day, bursting with spring-like hope) there arrived a splashy catalogue from, of all places, the Fine Arts Center in the Springs!  read more »

Eldora. It’s a sun-spangled, gentle-breezed morning. One of those days when it’s a pleasure and a privilege to be alive. The whole crew is up. As I sit at my mezzanine desk, everyone else is sitting downstairs, drinking coffee, eating breakfast and chatting, mostly about real estate.

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