Daddy was a mod, oh yes he was, he was. Helps to be thinking the Owl and the Pussycat when you read the previous sentence. Try it now.
So Daddy Slamma was a mod and Dale Slamma looked very much like one this morning. I caught sight of myself in the mirror this morning as I was leaving for work, in my rush I had tied my scarf in a very large elaborate knot somewhat resembling a cravat, the jacket I was wearing, the boot-like toes of my shoes and the silhouette of my hair looked exactly like a band photo of my father from the 60's. A sort of vicarious deja vous.
Does it still count? I dreamt about Rupert, last night. He appeared in an odd combination of stage show and bedroom drama wearing a top hat, riding boots and carrying a large ostrich feather fan. Elliot was there as well. It wasn't strictly one of those dreams but it might have been if I hadn't woken up when I did.
What's a drafting process? Ideally its where you turn something into something good, shame it didn't happen here today. Only one more sleep until The Experiment. I am trying to tell you how I feel. I am trying to feel something but any nerves or apprehension are just for show because lately I'm starting to develop a quiet confidence. Rupert asked me what's with the experiment? I tried to tell him but failed dismally. What I think its essentially about is consciously enacting the mindset of a writer, always watching, always deciding what the next plot point will be, with a dash of silly just for the hell of it.
Bildungsroman
Or am I already too old to begin that journey? It is certain that a person can never fully become, there would be no point in going on if you got to that stage but I digress. What is to become of me?
My feeling, which may be slightly inebriated, is that its time to play. Fuck monogamy, fuck sacrifice, fuck love, fuck all my boundaries because I smashed the chrysalis and now its time to play.
Happily I had the pleasure of talking with a fellow blogger on the telephone. Despite it obviously being a strange conversation to have it was an interesting experience, one I just may repeat, other party permitting. It is easy to forget that a blog cannot contain a whole person, easy to begin to believe the mirage. I may even begin to believe that I am Dale Slamma, the one on the screen but I don't want to do that because I can tell you its like a crayon drawn self-portrait drawing you.
My feeling, which may be slightly inebriated, is that its time to play. Fuck monogamy, fuck sacrifice, fuck love, fuck all my boundaries because I smashed the chrysalis and now its time to play.
Happily I had the pleasure of talking with a fellow blogger on the telephone. Despite it obviously being a strange conversation to have it was an interesting experience, one I just may repeat, other party permitting. It is easy to forget that a blog cannot contain a whole person, easy to begin to believe the mirage. I may even begin to believe that I am Dale Slamma, the one on the screen but I don't want to do that because I can tell you its like a crayon drawn self-portrait drawing you.
Deus ex machina
My computer at work went psycho, the screen saver was suddenly constantly changing pictures of me. Photos that I took of myself everyday during the worst parts of post-Artboy despair, to confirm my existence. Blown up images of unfiltered despair and unstoppable sobs. When I managed to make it stop a photo of Artboy was open on the desktop, a photo he took of himself in full Artboy life as performance handsome wanker mode about two weeks before he lost his mind. Thanks computer.
I have given up on dreaming about Rupert. Despite his excellent looking penis I found that I was rather put off because I do not like his bras either that or it is the inherent nature of the dream itself that stopped me. My large and and excellent dictionary informs me that a dream is an image or series of images present in the mind during sleep, I tend to disagree. Or rather I feel that that definition is inadequate. Surely a dream is more and less than that. An unwitting conversation with yourself, an expression of things you dare not speak of even silently in corners. Perhaps my choosing to dream of Rupert, someone so other from myself, was more than a passing fancy. Perhaps I chose to dream of Rupert as a way of reconnecting with my sexual self. Sex for so long had little to do with me as an individual and everything to do with my relationship with somebody else, someone who was dying inside, someone toxic and in the end insane. I am abandoning my experiment in dreaming of Rupert in the hope that by examination of my motives alone I have achieved a psychological marker.
I must confess that despite my long held feminist objections to pornography and therefore pornographers I find Rupert to be utterly charming, I have enjoyed this strange online dialogue with him and I fully intend to continue reading his intriguing blog. Now from the extraordinary back to the ordinary, I really must clean my room.
I have given up on dreaming about Rupert. Despite his excellent looking penis I found that I was rather put off because I do not like his bras either that or it is the inherent nature of the dream itself that stopped me. My large and and excellent dictionary informs me that a dream is an image or series of images present in the mind during sleep, I tend to disagree. Or rather I feel that that definition is inadequate. Surely a dream is more and less than that. An unwitting conversation with yourself, an expression of things you dare not speak of even silently in corners. Perhaps my choosing to dream of Rupert, someone so other from myself, was more than a passing fancy. Perhaps I chose to dream of Rupert as a way of reconnecting with my sexual self. Sex for so long had little to do with me as an individual and everything to do with my relationship with somebody else, someone who was dying inside, someone toxic and in the end insane. I am abandoning my experiment in dreaming of Rupert in the hope that by examination of my motives alone I have achieved a psychological marker.
I must confess that despite my long held feminist objections to pornography and therefore pornographers I find Rupert to be utterly charming, I have enjoyed this strange online dialogue with him and I fully intend to continue reading his intriguing blog. Now from the extraordinary back to the ordinary, I really must clean my room.
Oh dear
What happens if you fail to adequately hide a copy of your zine?
1. Your boss finds it.
2. Your boss reads it.
3. Your boss says it is 'neat'.
4. Your boss starts reading your blog.
5. You start to have issues of self-censorship.
1. Your boss finds it.
2. Your boss reads it.
3. Your boss says it is 'neat'.
4. Your boss starts reading your blog.
5. You start to have issues of self-censorship.
Stage two results are in
60% of people said that in order to invoke a dream about Rupert I need to close my eyes and imagine. Well that's not very creative of you. I was kind of hoping to be able to do one of the more interesting options but I am committed to The Experiment. Tonight I will close my eyes and imagine to try and invoke one of those dreams about Rupert, for the last time. This is more stressful than you might imagine.
I've been thinking about Sufjan Stevens and his mad mission to record an album about every state in America. This thinking is turning into an idea, this idea is going to have to wait.
I've been thinking about Sufjan Stevens and his mad mission to record an album about every state in America. This thinking is turning into an idea, this idea is going to have to wait.
Dreams are free
But sometimes hard to come by. Last night try as I might I could not dream about Rupert. I was very excited by the prospect of having a dream about Rupert but managed only a big old case of insomnia and a fleeting dream about finding post of money. I think what I really need is some of that Dreamy Sleepy Nightie Snoozy Snooze that Father Ted seems very fond of. I don't think that anything better could have been invented than an alcoholic chocolate sleeping aid.
More pondering before posting required.
More pondering before posting required.
I seem to be developing a tiny obsession/Stage one is under way
How do you invoke a dream?
Help me try and find out. Stage two of The Experiment is a little off course but not too far, its all a rich tapestry. Click on this link to decide how I should try and invoke one of those dreams about Rupert. Thankfully Rupert doesn't seem at all alarmed that I am trying, really hard, to have one of those dreams about him.
Here's where I try and justify invoking a dream as part of The Experiment. The Experiment is about meeting men, being one of those law talking people I can say that nowhere does it specifically state that it had to be in the flesh, so to speak.
Stage one of The Experiment is in full swing, I have contacted several friends and they are all busily hunting for a man for me to have coffee with. This Friday night I am doing the dreaded 'get really drunk in a pub and ask random men' to have coffee with me. Thanks to all the very mean people that voted for this option. Only five sleeps until complete humiliation in a crowded public space, I'm going to make damn sure that I have fabulous hair, it might help get over the humiliation to get home and look admiringly at my fabulous hair in the swaying mirror.
Help me try and find out. Stage two of The Experiment is a little off course but not too far, its all a rich tapestry. Click on this link to decide how I should try and invoke one of those dreams about Rupert. Thankfully Rupert doesn't seem at all alarmed that I am trying, really hard, to have one of those dreams about him.
Here's where I try and justify invoking a dream as part of The Experiment. The Experiment is about meeting men, being one of those law talking people I can say that nowhere does it specifically state that it had to be in the flesh, so to speak.
Stage one of The Experiment is in full swing, I have contacted several friends and they are all busily hunting for a man for me to have coffee with. This Friday night I am doing the dreaded 'get really drunk in a pub and ask random men' to have coffee with me. Thanks to all the very mean people that voted for this option. Only five sleeps until complete humiliation in a crowded public space, I'm going to make damn sure that I have fabulous hair, it might help get over the humiliation to get home and look admiringly at my fabulous hair in the swaying mirror.
I tried to have a dream last night
I thought it might be fun to attempt to have a dream about a man. I thought I may as well try and dream about Rupert for two reasons, firstly I have never met him so its not as weird and secondly because he seems to be the kind of man that wouldn't mind if I did have a dream about him and then wrote about it.
Unfortunately it didn't work. I did not dream about Rupert, not even a little bit, not even a guest appearance. What did happen was a dream about Mr X. It wasn't one of those dreams which is a shame. It was a strange dream of survivalist jungle living and running from hidden enemies riding on homemade bicycles for two. There was a moment when I was crouching in the jungle, petrified and hiding from the enemies when Mr X came up behind me and folded his tall self around me for protection. This made the rest of the horrifying dream existence worthwhile.
Maybe I'll have better luck on the Rupert dream front tonight.
Unfortunately it didn't work. I did not dream about Rupert, not even a little bit, not even a guest appearance. What did happen was a dream about Mr X. It wasn't one of those dreams which is a shame. It was a strange dream of survivalist jungle living and running from hidden enemies riding on homemade bicycles for two. There was a moment when I was crouching in the jungle, petrified and hiding from the enemies when Mr X came up behind me and folded his tall self around me for protection. This made the rest of the horrifying dream existence worthwhile.
Maybe I'll have better luck on the Rupert dream front tonight.
A small to medium amount of success
Rich and famous you will not be if you rely only on zine sales. Still, I had a marvelous day out, I shared a table with someone very interesting, many lovely friends turned up and I got lightheaded and slightly delirious from sunstroke. I used this to great effect and smiled at many men, some even smiled back, in a bemused sort of way. One of my friends is almost positive she has a man for me to have coffee with, he sounds appalling but seeing as its just coffee I don't mind.
One of the best parts of the day was getting there. I raced to the station and just made the train then ten minutes later I'm waiting in the heart of the city for a bus, coffee and cigarette in hand mp3 player on go, just like one of those people I see in the city, one of those people I would like to be. A short bus ride later I was in some back street in The Rocks and hunting for the giant staircase down to Walsh Bay. Descending into the shadow of the Harbour Bridge and the good salt air writers' festival punters swarmed and rearranged along the piers into shapes of hope and good fortune.
Some days are not lumbering moments of cells and bones, some days unlock the heavy burdens and just let you be. Today was one of those days.
After the small to medium success of my zine 'Ocarina' Newtown beckoned me home for food, coffee and the rolling tread of familiar footpaths. I ran into yet another friend at my favourite cafe on King St. It was a delight and now I sit fed and watered cat curled next to a giant heater, all that remains of the day is pleasant dreams and soft warm blankets.
One of the best parts of the day was getting there. I raced to the station and just made the train then ten minutes later I'm waiting in the heart of the city for a bus, coffee and cigarette in hand mp3 player on go, just like one of those people I see in the city, one of those people I would like to be. A short bus ride later I was in some back street in The Rocks and hunting for the giant staircase down to Walsh Bay. Descending into the shadow of the Harbour Bridge and the good salt air writers' festival punters swarmed and rearranged along the piers into shapes of hope and good fortune.
Some days are not lumbering moments of cells and bones, some days unlock the heavy burdens and just let you be. Today was one of those days.
After the small to medium success of my zine 'Ocarina' Newtown beckoned me home for food, coffee and the rolling tread of familiar footpaths. I ran into yet another friend at my favourite cafe on King St. It was a delight and now I sit fed and watered cat curled next to a giant heater, all that remains of the day is pleasant dreams and soft warm blankets.
Results are in so come on down to the pier
The official results are in for step one of The Experiment. There was a tie so I need to do both. I am going to phone a few friends and ask them to think of someone for me to have a coffee with and I am going to the pub to get really drunk and ask random men to have coffee with me. Oh dear. My housemates are coming with me to make sure that I do not get abducted or hit my head on anything sharp.
In other less alarming news I will be selling my zine at the Sydney Writers' Festival tomorrow afternoon. I am particularly excited about this. I have no idea what the zine looks like as I am collaborating with my housemate and she is in charge of the layout and design, I merely make the words. So come on down and spend three dollars, I could use the cash to put towards my drunk night at the pub. The problem with being at work is that you have to do work.
In other less alarming news I will be selling my zine at the Sydney Writers' Festival tomorrow afternoon. I am particularly excited about this. I have no idea what the zine looks like as I am collaborating with my housemate and she is in charge of the layout and design, I merely make the words. So come on down and spend three dollars, I could use the cash to put towards my drunk night at the pub. The problem with being at work is that you have to do work.
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