Monday, March 17, 2025

Kittens, musicians and a stolen meal

Sharon and I were on the couch watching a TV show. An unknown female guest was seated on the couch with us. I was not a fan of the show, and I told Sharon, perhaps a little indelicately, as evidenced by her reaction.

Me: "I wish you wouldn't talk about this show so much."

Sharon: <silence> <gets up from couch in protest>

I spent the rest of the dream trying to patch things up with her, but she kept avoiding me. The guest, a brunette of medium build with unremarkable features, seemed amenable to helping me get things back to normal with Sharon, but her efforts were ineffective.

I was in the kitchen, attempting to make a meal for myself: mashed potatoes, salad, beef with gravy and chocolate cake. I cut two slices of cake, thinking Sharon might be appeased by the offering. Chocolate cake was her favorite, after all.

In true dream fashion, none of my meal prep ever resulted in me actually having a meal. Ingredients would disappear as soon as I placed them on the counter, leaving me puzzled and having to repeat the process over and over. Once, after having finally assembled the entire dinner, I turned away for a microsecond, only to find that my meal had gone missing.

As I was failing to make dinner,  Sharon walked in with an armful of kittens. She handed me one, and it clung to my sweater and began making a pitiful mew. I couldn't help myself, and I instantly decided that I would become its forever protector, cradling it in my arms as I went to fetch my disappeared meal. 

"Alright, everyone," I said to a crowd of musicians who had surreptitiously been congregating in my dining room/kitchen/living room area. "Where is my dinner? Which one of you assholes took it?"

I had to tiptoe around various mic stands and guitar pedal boards just to get across the room. The whole lot of them were attempting to harmonize to an off-key version of "I'd Love You To Want Me" by Lobo. I was not impressed. 

The feeling of dissatisfaction did not leave me upon awakening. I feel I'm living in an auto-tuned crap karaoke version of my life, and I have little to show for it other than some desperately appreciative kitties who somehow got stuck with me.

Wednesday, March 12, 2025

Blah, blah, blah

Ah, what's the point? Death's not coming fast enough. I just can't...be me any longer. I hate to disappoint all those who have put their faith in me to pull it out for a come from behind finish. I'm just not cut out for this. 

No joy. No hope. No vision. 

Could things be worse? Indubitably. Will I stick around out of spite as things plummet to new lows? 

I don't know.

I'm just tired. I sat in group with my camera off the whole night, speaking very little. Others went on about their week, their excitement, their emotions, their insights and resolve--I had nothing. It was hard to even exist in that space. 

If I could have articulated my emotions, it would have been frustration, jealousy, pettiness and anger, but I didn't even have the energy to do that. 

I don't have the energy now. And I don't owe anyone anything by way of explanation anyhow. Whoever reads this, AI, most likely, or some worker in a data mine putting my file together: Suck it. Harvest my thoughts, my last drop of cortisol, adrenochrome, whatever you can, while it lasts. The tap will soon be dry.

Saturday, March 8, 2025

This post was flagged on 3-3-25 for sensitive content

...so I'm running it through again. Let's see what happens.

 

An Inauspicious Moment in Troubling Times  

In last night's dreams, I was on the run, or on vacation, or perhaps both.  All I know is that it it involved an angry mob, three cats, and a stolen Econoline van...(and Rienna and I, in a hotel room, doing some horizontal hugging). 

I was on the balcony of a tall hotel building, looking down as a crowd began gathering on the street below. Some of them began throwing rocks up at me and taunting me to come down. The rocks whizzing past my head did not make me inclined to to want to do that, and I watched as they moved down the street.

An unsettling scene began to unfold. The cheering mob began playing a game called “Rush the door, expel the intruders.” In violent fashion, waves of 50 or 60 people would storm a house and subsequently be thrown out, and ceremoniously pummeled, by its occupants. It was being played with great enthusiasm and ardor. 

Meanwhile, inside the hotel with Rienna, as we lay on the bed hugging, she expressed a desire for me to "eat her pussy." As this was happening at the same time as one of my cats had gone missing temporarily, my mind couldn't help going to the comical Trump quote from the debate: "They're eating the dogs...They're eating the cats." 

About that time, the cat was brought back by hotel staff, uneaten, and thanks to the interruption, no cunnilingus was performed by me on Rienna.

"Shut the door, would you," I said to the hotel clerk, only slightly miffed, since he had returned my cat, albeit not at the most auspicious moment.

It soon became clear, with the crowd outside and their growing appetite for destruction, that it would not be safe for us to continue to stay at the hotel. We loaded up the cats and all of our clothing into someone's Ford Econoline van. 

As Rienna and I sat in front seats, ready to make our escape, I noticed that the parking brake was off, and we were slowly rolling towards a cliff. 

"Put your foot on the break, honey," I said to Rienna, but it was too late. 

We kept rolling forward, and we were destined to plummet off the cliff. I remember thinking, as we reached the point of no return, that possibly the van would get hung up, like it sometimes does in movies. I don’t know if this was the case or not because I woke up.

 

Thursday, March 6, 2025

Another day, another unsolicited comment into the void of some Facebook friend's post

From this side of the curtain, I can't speak to the possibility of an overarching plan, be it a game, a play or an experiment, as you describe it. I do believe we (whoever and whatever that comprises) are here not without purpose. I have spent much time questioning, bemoaning, rebelling and sometimes sullenly going along with the idea that we're here to learn something.

My own quasi-spiritual beliefs are a mish-mash of Eastern philosophy, modern skepticism, veering at times toward nihilism, with an unfortunate sprinkling of Western Christian cultural influence. I try not to throw out the baby, but the bathwater of most religious ideologies, even the cool ones like Buddhism, tends to get clouded with dogma over time.

At my core, I believe this: We are all one consciousness, experiencing the illusion of separation through the apertures of an infinite number of individually sentient units, from quarks to quasars, atoms, human beings, rocks, dogs and paperclips, cats, cows and whatever else, for the purpose of...well, I don't know. We just thought it'd be a fun thing to try out? As Chester, The Reluctant Messenger said, "God is an experience junkie." I would add to that, perhaps a bit of a cross-dresser as well, and an outright drama queen diva at times, no disrespect to any of the aforementioned aspects of said deity.

So, I concur with your idea of many lives, one soul, which some of the more recent research seems to bear out (see Michael Newton's "Journey of Souls"). But at this moment in history, even though I want to take this semi-detached, long and aerial view of life on earth, dammit, for the life of me, I'm caught up in the game. Well played, God-Matrix-Everything-thingy, we've fooled ourselves again.

Monday, March 3, 2025

An inauspicious moment in troubling times

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