Wednesday, Nov. 09, 2005
Yackety Yack I Will Talk Back
Remember the guy who was stuck to the toilet seat at Home Depot, and filed a lawsuit claiming all sorts of anguish? Maybe it's time to hold the... um... sympathy. According to a former town official where he lives, this isn't the first time he's claimed to have been glued to the throne. The guy's lawyer says the town story is bogus, that his client never made any such a report previous to the Home Depot incident.
Since, after all, the former town official has so much to gain by making up a story like that.
You gotta wonder about some people.
(Incidentally, Bunny, I'd already nearly finished this post when I got your note to that effect.)
Had a seriously weird dream a couple of nights ago. I'm posting it here, along with a synopsis of my interpretation. Hey, it's weird. Don't say I didn't warn you.
In this dream, I was at home, in a house that was too nice to actually be really mine. I was standing in what I assume was the living room, while 00 was sitting on the floor, next to a parrot. The bird wasn't talking - instead was just pecking at money on the carpet. We're talking bills and coins - no threat of losing the cash, just a kind of idyllic moment. There was a shift in the dream and it was now nighttime. I was asleep in my spacious bedroom (again, obviously not my actual room.) 00 came into the bedroom, terrified, waking me to say there was a burglar downstairs. (I don't have a downstairs, so again, there's this "not really my place" thing going on.) And there apparently was a burglar, because I could hear noises, and when I got up to check, there was suddenly a silhouette of a man in the open door to my bedroom.
End of dream.
Interpretation (in this case, with tongue firmly implanted in cheek:)
This birdbrain really needs to stop playing around with money, needs to get a career that pays actual cash instead of bird feed. And the burglar? Probably one of the kids coming in late to raid the fridge.
I really did have that dream, by the way - but as with 99 percent of dreams, it's really my brain's warped interpretation of what's going on in my life right now. More accurately, that the mix of seemingly unrelated scenes both hearken back to my uneasy quest for a companion. Methinks I really should just fugheddabout any such union. The references are worries over money - in the sense of somebody else playing with my cash. After supporting two husbands who didn't work for a living, the thought of being in that position all over again is something that haunts me. If I were with someone who legitimately couldn't work because of illness or injury, that would be one thing, but for someone able-bodied who expects to sit on their laurels and reap both my meager income and my undying devotion and servitude - (insert rude buzzer sound here) - WRONG! Ain't gonna happen again.
The burglar is a half-witted reference to someone illicit trying to steal my heart - more or less doubts about the motives for some of the guys to whom I've been talking.
While occasionally dreams carry other information and connotations, the vast majority really are what happens when your disconnected subconscious plays wild and free with the facts. Kind of like the President on most days.
After time on the phone last night with Nicim, though, I have to agree that I've probably slogged through the most of the seedier element in terms of the men who have contacted me, and have moved on to the ones who are genuinely looking for a partner. While I still have plenty of questions, I don't recoil in horror any more, either. I'm not sure if this is good news in terms of the caliber of folks who are contacting me, or I've become, to borrow the expression from Pink Floyd, "comfortably numb."
Let's just not discuss how late Nici and I talked, okay? Because if I do, I might have to explain why I'm working in a coma this morning. And what's more, it was even later for her. (Yes, that is a perfectly innocent whistle you hear. Perfectly innocent.)
Hey, my job PAYS me to talk. You didn't really think I'm this shy, retiring violet type, did you? Add to that the fact that I come from a long line of preachers, the one category of men who can out-talk any woman on earth.
But I've got to actually sleep tonight - two nights of somnambulant phone conversations can do a real number on your mental acuity. I'm amazed I'm able to read at all this morning. Not like I'm complaining, mind you. I love getting to talk to most of my diaryland buddies - even got to talk for a few minutes last night to chaosdaily!
Guess I'd better sign off for now. I have a guest arriving in a little more than an hour and while I've got most of my work done, I still have a little to finish before he arrives. Given that he's a politician (town official,) I need to take care of the necessities ahead of time. You know what I mean. Sharpen my darts, that sort of thing.
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )