Waffle quest

It was 5am, and I was about to fall asleep in the bed of a '77 Chevy pick-up. For a few minutes I was content to look up and watch the stars spin. But instead, I convinced everyone to go to the Waffle House. Five miles, a hamburger, double plate hashbrowns scattered-covered-and-smothered, and one sunrise later, we made it back.


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Silver Doll

Silver Doll
Originally uploaded by ashe-villain

Performance art can so easily be dumb. What she does she does beautifully and hauntingly, and I am still untangling what it means and why she does it. Which I imagine is her goal. Kudos, Silver Girl.

As remembered upon waking

I was in some sort of a palace, which understood to be in Sri Lanka. The King and Queen were there as well as some of ther ministers. Also were various Hindu gods, human sized but with monstrous faces. The elephant god and a tiger-man I remember clearly. A very Island of Dr. Moreau appearance those characters, and also like the friends Sebastian made from Blade Runner. The palace looked like the Alhambra, but with very thick, plush cushions everywhere and all the characters there were doing from somersaults, rolling very smoothly and efficiently across the ground, occasionally stopping and saying something I didn't understand to me before continuing on.

I walked outside the palace, and I was near the ocean, but there was a large courtyard here. Now appeared a proper Englishman, something like a butler, and also a goofy Australian pilot. They got in a large black plane. They started to take off, but it hovered like the U.S.M.C.'s Osprey, and I had to get in it by climbing a chain-link ladder that unrolled from a trap door in the bottom of the plane. Those things are really hard to climb. Well the pilot starts taking off, and I'm swinging underneath the thing for a couple minutes before I climb aboard. It was difficult, but I wasn't panicked or fearful. After I get aboard, I sat between these two guys as we navigated about 50 feet of the surface of the water, slaloming between scores of palm trees that arose directly out of the ocean. The pilot for some reason lost something out his window so he opened his door (it felt more like a car inside) so he reaches out and looks like he's about to fall except his seat belt catches and he just flails around for a while before pulling himself in and flying. This part was pretty intense, I remember flying very near to those palm trees.

In the next part of the dream, I was a cop in New York City. I was wearing a khaki kind of suit, and I kind of felt like one of the Beastie Boys from the Sabotage video, but no aviators or wig. I had a Glock .40 in a speed holsters strapped high on my waist (which I find uncomfortable, I like thigh slung holsters much better) and a full can of cold Pabst Blue Ribbon in my left coat pocket. I also had one in my hand, and I sat down at a table in some room that was mine and talked to my mother for a few minutes, before there was some sort of emergency and someone called for me to come outside. I did, and we rushed down this hill and somehow descended into a very economically unfortunate jungle valley of Nicaragua. There was a helpful man who pointed our direction to some sort of crime, but I had no duties at this moment and I began to wander, where I found a boy and a girl, making out pretty heavily with their shirts off and pants unzipped. The two were about 12 I realized, and about 15 children around 5 years old sat cross-legged and quietly staring at the amorous young couple, which I found pretty disturbing, so I left. Wind up back in New York City, on my way to a precinct which feels like it was in Union Square (there's a Whole Foods I've been to that is there.) I walk into the station and have some conversation which I forget, before getting another call and running outside to a waiting squad car. I had my hand on my gun the entire time, as it seemed like a pretty big deal that we were headed to. I remember seeing S.W.A.T. SUVs that were pulling into line ahead of us. All the sirens sounded like the instrumental portion of "Y.M.C.A." as sung by the Village People. That seemed a little far fetched, and I woke up.

Ironically written on the saddest day of the year

If only my bad habits were as sporadic as my blogging.

Since I last updated, many changes have transpired. Foremost among them is moving to Asheville. Yes, the prodigal loser returns to Asheville, sans the constructive parable for the rest of you. Of course. I'm taking College Algebra (again! Saves on textbooks), Literature Based Research, American Music and Conceptual Physics (which prompted my grandfather to ask, "Isn't that when a man and a woman..."). I love being in school. It gives me more satisfaction for living per hour than any other activity I do. Hmm. SL per H. Perhaps I should measure more of my life like that.

I also started a new job today, with Sensible City. I'm the online media intern. Basically, I write a lot of e-mails and figure out ways to use the web to promote environmental events. The one I'm working on now is the Eco City World Summit 2008. I know a first day isn't much, but I like it a lot so far.

This past weekend was POPAsheville and I had a blast. To put it briefly: 2 Nights, 3 Venues, 1 Bus, 34 Bands, $15. Wow. So, I parked in downtown Asheville and went to Stella Blue. Saw Ruby Slippers. Good live, but electronic music like that is often better recorded, and I'd love to hear what they sound like on vinyl. Her voice was lovely though. Think Fiona Apple if she was a soprano and not an alto. Then I took the bus to the Grey Eagle and saw Future Islands. Had heard their name before and had no idea what to expect, but was really impressed. Crap yes! More please! Then I went to see Laura Reed and Deep Pocket at the just-opened Rocket Club, and they was great too. The Rocket Club is in West Asheville, so I made a phone call and arranged to stay at C.'s house which was walking distance from there. Well this was fine and good but the next day I wake up (sore from lying on wood floor all night) and have to walk back to downtown Asheville to get back to my car. So I bundled up (-7° C ambient, -15° C windchill) and headed down to Sunny Point Cafe and had some great huevos rancheros, and many cups of strong black coffee. Then bought some RayBans and a 3-pack of black gloves. I only passed one person on the way back to town, and as chance would have it he needed a pair of gloves. So I gave him a pair. I bet he felt pretty lucky to be given a pair of gloves on the coldest day of the year. Below you can see my path.

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It's really great to live in a town with such youthful culture. Leaving Tryon seems like a better idea everyday.