dys· phem· is· tic Friday, May 28, 2004
On Memorial Day
I had lots of deep concepts to write about... but for some reason all I can think of right now is starting my Memorial Day weekend. I will be taking my kids to the War Memorial in Muskrat Bayou Park. It's actually a very nice one, with a huge bronze eagle and black marble cubes inscribed with the names of the war dead all the way back to World War I.
Texas knows how to honor heros.
posted by Pleonic @ 5:59 PM
(0) spontaneous expostulations
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Concerning 46
I turned 46 yesterday -- and I don't give a flip!
posted by Pleonic @ 2:12 PM
(0) spontaneous expostulations
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Last night I dreamed I woke up next to Tina Louise -- you know, Ginger on Gilligan's Island. Which is strange because my crush was always on Mary Ann.
Anyway, we weren't doing anything hardly ever am in my dreams... ::sigh::), just sitting there in bed talking. Mostly I was politely asking her about her work on Broadway and the other things she'd been in. After all, I know she doesn't look upon Gilligan as her finest hour.
Soon, we noticed the door to the room we were in was one of those translucent glass jobs, like you see in offices. And sure enough, in a little while it swung open as easy as you please and in walks... David Bowie!
No, this is a real dream. I'm not making this up.
I had clothes on by now, and Mr. Bowie turned out to be a very nice gentleman. I shook his hand and we talked for quite some time about nothing in particular.
Later, out in a hallway, I saw Rod Stewart from a distance.
What all this means, I have no idea. But there must be a clue in the fact that three celebrities from the days of my youth were featured. Where's Sigmund Freud when you need him?
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
Of Dreams and How Nice Some of Them Are
Last night I dreamed I woke up next to Tina Louise -- you know, Ginger on Gilligan's Island. Which is strange because my crush was always on Mary Ann.
Anyway, we weren't doing anything hardly ever am in my dreams... ::sigh::), just sitting there in bed talking. Mostly I was politely asking her about her work on Broadway and the other things she'd been in. After all, I know she doesn't look upon Gilligan as her finest hour.
Soon, we noticed the door to the room we were in was one of those translucent glass jobs, like you see in offices. And sure enough, in a little while it swung open as easy as you please and in walks... David Bowie!
No, this is a real dream. I'm not making this up.
I had clothes on by now, and Mr. Bowie turned out to be a very nice gentleman. I shook his hand and we talked for quite some time about nothing in particular.
Later, out in a hallway, I saw Rod Stewart from a distance.
What all this means, I have no idea. But there must be a clue in the fact that three celebrities from the days of my youth were featured. Where's Sigmund Freud when you need him?
