I went to Saks on Wilshire today. The idea was for Vince and I to shop for shoes. Instead we each found a bowl full of creepy.
How could so many shoes look so much alike and all cost more than a healthy man’s liver and $500 cash? Ok, I get it: suede is more important than I could know and penny loafers have a consequence in our culture that I’ve severely underestimated. But here was a carefully curated display of dozens and dozens of shoes that were neither manly nor clever nor functional nor believable. I actually could not find the way to accept that this collection had been curated with sound mind and body.
And then there was the sales team. Who knew that being looked after could feel so creepy?
I know they knew I wouldn’t be spending a lost thought there but that didn’t stop them from hovering over me like a bad cold. When we left, the mother ship breathed a clean sigh of relief at our necessary departure. Temporary inconvenience aside, things could go back to normal. Did you see the Pirates of the Caribbean movies where the shell slaves on Davy Jones ship were mollusked into the walls? Yeah, like that probably. I bet you anything that’s exactly what happened with them when we left.
How do you want your coffee?
< pours milk >
>>Wait! No milk. I didn’t want milk.
Oh, you don’t want anything in it?
>>No. Black. Nothing in it. Just straight up please.
< hands me coffee with milk >
I saw that blonde woman on TV.
Some behind the scenes/making of for Game of Thrones.
She’s a ruler. Or a princess. One of the key players in the drama. She had throngs of people and digitally animated “people” around her. Guards and knights and such in-between her and the real and false masses. Much ado.
There be dragons. Teenage dragons. Pets. Friends. Her pets. Her friends. Perched and flapping next to her. Then wild in the air. Roasting people. Tossing them as bait. Then at tense rest beside her. And there was something to the manor with which she behaved around such awkward and glorious beasts.
I can’t stop thinking about her now since I saw her with her dragons.
I want to watch the show now. Not because of any drama or threads. I just want to see more of her. I want to get closer to this dragon-close lady. Her calm response.
In truth, she was only responding to air and a green stick. That’s what the tv about tv showed us. A green stick with a green ball at its end. And with some work: poof! dragons! Responding to emptiness but to dragons.
And there is a powerful part of me that longs to be next to her. As an emptiness that seems so much like dragons looking to find her gentle acceptance.
I had a terrible dream the other night about a murderer and all of his gruesome feats. The visions chronicled destruction after destruction of the most vulgar sort. It was slow. It was disturbing.
While we grew to hone in on the killer and the events heightened to a third act excitement I surprised myself by discovering that I had the killer wrong the whole time. It was his sister instead and I was blown away.
I mentioned this was my dream, right?
For all the cliche this will gain me, the dream was like a movie. Camera Man Dreams In Movies (full story page 3). Blah blah. But how do you surprise yourself in your own dream? I mean, it was a real Crying Game kind of “woah!” (which, yes, I was surprised by as well.)
I staggered out of bed, thrown by myself straight off.
What I want to know is, fine, stress dream, ok, I get it: I need to be in a predicament. I need something to be presiding over me. I need difficulty. It’s a simple soup. A clear stack of ingredients. That I get.
But the slow motion running thing. I mean, come on. How many decades deep am I in this dream? With all the times I can sing “I am Beautiful” to myself, can’t I graduate up a level or two? What about if I’m actually a pretty good runner? What if I gain some good ground and I get a minute of surprised pride but then everyone around me starts running weirdly faster than you would ever expect? Wouldn’t that be almost as stressful? Even more so maybe?
It could be like: “oh, yeah, you run, Graham!”
And then the rest could be a huge serving of
“Think again, sucker, here’s a no compete for you”
And while I’m in the middle of this, why was I being chased by Gwyneth Paltrow and why was she in a pink ballet outfit?