Alien Tummy Tuck

Just checking my hair. No apparent reason, just throwing a passing glance in the mirror on my way to turn on the shower, and saw some little blemish on my face. Closer inspection revealed nothing of consequence. But then i looked closer in the looking glass...(Alice never had a trip like that through the looking glass) closer...until i could see the pores on my skin, touch the bags under my eyes and saw how loose the skin was....my skin had become loose somewhere along the way. Not the skin of my 20's,or even 30's, but the skin of someone growing older... someone who could hear the mortal ticking of the clock...The puffy skin of my eyes was tight enough... if i got rid of the puffiness, it would just be another patch of loose skin.
Then i started wishing i was not 41. that i could invert the age or something. But that would make me 14, and i'm not sure i'd want to be 14 again. When i was 14, I lived in a big blue split level house in the country, and the windows in my room were ground level. There, i used to spend hours writing in my journal, and playing with my Johnny West collection, and hiding in a cubbyhole under the stairs, the entrance of which was under the shelf that served as a desk in my room. That was like my little sanctuary.

During that time, i also saw a UFO from the backyard, and managed to get a picture of it, but no one believed me. That photo is in storage somewhere.

I have forgotten most of the details of that time in my childhood. Various therapists over the years have been convinced I'm blocking some trauma; some child abuse. My parents were way too apathetic to be abusive. Theirs was a sin of omission.

Maybe what i was blocking was that i was an abductee. I have that photo to prove there was opportunity...maybe I was TAKEN. Maybe i could get those aliens to abduct me again, and forego the anal probe and just do a tummy tuck to tighten all this loose skin i have.

I watch the skies, ever hopeful.

Alien Tummy Tuck

Stored Memory

Yesterday, i went to Colorado Springs to start dealing with the storage i have there. It's been percolating there for 7 years. Odd, how so much of it i didn't even recall having. Not that i remembered after i saw it--i mean, i saw it and still didn't remember having it.
Weirdness.

The first surprise was when i opened the door. For those of you my age and older, you might think "Fibber McGee's closet..." For the rest of you, I'm not sure what analogy you'd think of. But i needed a heavy duty shoehorn to start getting that stuff out.

The second surprise was how, all these years, i pictured it as a bigger room, and not packed so tight. Like i expected to be able to just walk in without moving anything. Funny, how our minds superimpose ideas that aren't even accurate. That's why eye witnesses are considered the most unreliable testimony.

Picking through it, i had to open boxes to see what was in them, and it was very much like xmas. I didn't know what i was going to find, and sometimes it was a pleasant surprise. Things i had forgotten, things that engendered good memories, things that made me maudlin. Photographs, bedding, art, books, my handwritten journals. All of it gave me some kind of emotion.

Stored Memory

Stored Memories & Domestic Trivia

Yesterday, i went to Colorado Springs to start dealing with the storage i have there. It's been percolating for 7 years. Odd, how so much of it i didn't even recall having. Not that i remembered after i saw it--i mean, i saw it and still didn't remember having it.
Weirdness.

The first surprise was when i opened the door. For those of you my age and older, you might think "Fibber McGee's closet..." For the rest of you, I'm not sure what analogy you'd think of. But i needed a heavy duty shoehorn to start getting that stuff out.

The second surprise was how, all these years, i pictured it as a bigger room, and not packed so tight. Like i expected to be able to just walk in without moving anything. Funny, how our minds superimpose ideas that aren't even accurate. (That's why eye witnesses are considered the most unreliable testimony).

Picking through it, i had to open boxes to see what was in them, and it was very much like Xmas. I didn't know what i was going to find, and sometimes it was a pleasant surprise. Things i had forgotten, things that engendered good memories, things that made me maudlin. Photographs, bedding, art, books, my handwritten journals. All of it gave me some kind of emotion.

I've got lots of work to do this month, selecting what to keep and what to sell on Craigslist, and what to toss or donate.

My apartment, alas, is still not put together completely. It's hard for me to get all the things i need in the bedroom. Since i record music, write, sleep in this room, it's all packed in tight. If it becomes too claustrophobic, i may have to give up that great dining room table and use that spot for my office. I had this idea that i would have dinner parties.. Who am i kidding? That kitchen is meant for people who don't cook. No storage at all.

But I'm still happy I'm here.

I'll adjust to those domestic challenges and finally have the life i've wanted for so long. Colorado is a great place to have your mid-life crisis.

It's all good.

Stored Memories & Domestic Trivia

Love Archetype

I had five dreams about her again last night. I wasn't thinking about her when i went to sleep, nor the whole day before. But again, i dream about her. too often. And it's always the same. She is in some way being nice to me. The dreams always feel so good. So why am i complaining? well, because it's a dream and not real. I never did get that closure with her. She never was nice to me.

It's complicated also by the fact that in all these dreams, the "nice:" gets mixed in with the romantic, and she is kissing me, hugging me. I don't think we've ever actually made love in any of these dreams, but there is always the strong suggestion that's where it's going.
Ten years is a long time for someone to remain buried in your subconscious, only to be resurrected in nocturnal worlds. I'm not still in love with her. I'm not even the same person i was then. I don't want her back. I want that feeling. And she's the only one I had the feeling with. The only one i was so deeply in love with. And so she remains an icon...an archetype in my brain.

I made the mistake a couple of months ago of seeing those old memories in video and photographs and text. And that's when it started. And so I dream of her. And when i wake, i don't want to wake. I want to go back to sleep and dream of her again. Her touching me, smiling, laughing, kissing me, and being nice.

Love Archetype