Blooooooog.
I liked my comment so much, I'm saving it
1) Cover your ass with your face
2) Kiss your ass
3) Kiss 5 other people
4) Now you and five other peoples' faces smell like your ass
5) Continue life as a retard
Strange Dream
There was this part where I re-interviewed for that job as a programmer with the porn company. This time I met the other bigwig, an even bigger bigwig, who was thin and bearded and had long flowing hair -- not too long -- and glasses and looked maybe like John Lennon a little, but not John Lennon, another rock or movie star, I just can't place it, but Lennon will do for now. Anyway, he had this enormous complex of office space and his own space all decorated in crazy gewgaws and art things and with kind of an open floor plan. Plenty of industrial rust and decay overlaid with modern artist accouterments. Archetypal New York Artists's loft combined with modern silicon valley startup. So he is working on this new project. I don't know if I got interviewed first or he showed me the project first, but I'll describe the interview first.
We go into his office and it is this pretty big space with a locking door. There is this beautiful woman in there, who stays. But otherwise he locks the door. Someone even bangs on the door really angrily, at which point he opens it a crack and passes out a pencil, which seems to placate the banger. He has like all sorts of art all over. Heavy on the decayed look. Rust, rough edges, crinkles, dirt. But art just the same. I think there is even a pool table, not sure. He sits at his desk and I sit at a chair -- I wanna say an Eames Lounger but that is probably just an after-the-fact waking mind addition. Anyway, that Eames would not have been out of place here.
So he starts talking to me about his latest project, a crazy project involving enormous glass tubes to create a building-sized Lite Brite of, of, of what? I don't remember. I think the thing itself started as the company name in my dream, and evolved into either a giant sperm logo or some cartoony character logo plus company name. Either way, the idea is fucking crazy, but in my awake mind, I now realize that it would be an amazing artistic feat if someone had the wherewithal to pull it off. So he describes it -- these 10 foot blown glass tubes, a foot or two in diameter, filled with a very bright, colored light source, to be mounted all along the side of a building. One is sitting in the office with us, on this big table. I picture the tubes all bent and shaped into the outline of a logo or company name, but then he takes me down to the installation site, and I realize that he wants them to go up with the ends sticking out ala Lite Brite and I'm like, "this guy is fucking crazy!" But he has his team working on it and they are all like in reverance of him and working hard, even though they are all retards and drop and break several tubes. To make matters worse, the building these are to be mounted on is across this vast, deep, dangerous raving/gorge from where we are, with a raging river below, and we have this little crane that barely reaches across and are implementing a lift-and-carry system for these tubes out of rope, tape, old fold-up tables, and having one guy ride on the thing to hold the tube in place as it goes over. I'm like, "What the fuck?" But at this point it is "we" because I am pretty much helping out. Dreams, y'know?
So this is not working well, and at least one tube has broken in half or something, and the work site is slowly morphing into this outdoor rock festival. A mini festival. This comedian guy comes on. I know him somehow. He's more like a rapper -- he "raps" his comedy into the mike and carries himself like a rapper. Everyone is mesmerized and laughing, but now I can't remember one word he said. At the end, he comes over to me and I make some whispered comment about some hot chick that just walked by (who incidentally was part of the construction/company/work group from earlier or at least was hanging out with them) and the comedian guy winks knowingly, but only after leaning in closer to me like, "what? couldn't hear you" and I tell him more clearly that I was pointing out this hot chick. So that all fades away and I'm still sitting in my spot, which is this big asphalt area in front of mechanics' garages and warehouses, on a gentle slope. There is this big dumpster. I have some stuff -- a couple of plastic bags with deli meat, some cigarettes. The cigarettes come in a large can of orange soda, and although somehow I am smoking one already, whe the big bearded hippie guy behind me tries to bum one, I have to chug down the last of the soda to get one out. I reach in to the large orange soda can and can barely get one, so I turn the can over and shake one out. It drops to the ground and rolls in front of the bearded hippie guy, then rolls further under the dumpster. The guy is like, "woah! Thanks, buddy!" and he dives under the dumpster to grab the cigarette. That, thankfully, is the last I see of him.
Then I start noticing all the big amp setups all around me and imagine myself playing my guitar. I specifically imagine myself playing an Eric Clapton song, but I can't specifically remmeber which one. Derek and the Dominoes something which, of course, is odd, given my general dislike of Derek and the Dominoes.
And that is about it. There are probably some additional details which I want to keep in but have at this point forgotten, but I'm just happy to have grabbed any of this at all out of my memory. Especially a dream as crazy as this one.
Crazy Dreams
I wanna write this down before I forget. Unfortunately not in any particular order.
I dreamt that I was hanging out with Mike and Aline. No Ethan, though. Anyway, we were just hanging out in their really nice, kinda crazy apartment. And Jeff Ross shows up. Well, he's just there in that dream way that people or things are just there all of a sudden. And he's going on and on about this secret bank thing -- a conspiracy type thing, where there is this bank owned and operated by like, the freemasons or something similar -- and it turns out that Mike has an account there and that's why they have all this money. Or something. And Mike starts getting really pissed at Jeff Ross for exposing the existence of the secret bank.
Anyway, its a little later, and Jeff and I are heading out. Not sure where. But I'm like, "hey, my car is over this way" and he's like well, just come ride with me, I'll drive you to your car. It is REALLY raining at this point so I'm like, okay. My car, incidentally, is the old brown Ford station wagon we used to have when I was a kid. (I still remember driving around and yelling out the window to the neighbors "look at our new car!" when I was like six). So I get into his car, I think. I think it was that old POS Pontiac he inherited from his grandparents that died within a year or less. (We thought it was so great -- it had A/C!)
So that, unfortunately, is all I can remember from the dream. I haven't remembered any dreams, so much, lately. I wonder why this one stuck in my head so well today.