I dreamt again that I was someone else. A woman. Again. This time she had thick, course and curly hair pulled back with pins. In the mirror-- why am I always looking in the mirror?-- her (my) face was thin, pale with high cheekbones. A frowning mouth. Something else. The flesh of my torso had been pulled back like curtains, and hanging there from delicate tubing and tangles, was my heart. Outside my body.
But before this. You know how an infected wisdom tooth feels? That pulpy, aching wound feeling you can't stop torturing with your tongue? This is how my chest felt. And inside my mouth. I kept choking on and spitting out the pulp of my body. The taste of blood was..... real. And there was a man wobbling around whose head was taken off his body, but he was holding it on as best he could. Had we both just gotten off the floor?
Back to the mirror. I am trying to stuff my heart back into my chest and holding the thick slices of skin and muscle into place under a corset I am forcing onto my body. It burns and aches, but I know that I will heal under there, so I pull it tight. The wire cuts a bit. But I guess that doesn't really matter, compared to my gaping front. And it's over. The last thing I remember is wearing a dress, a cotton dress with a big, sculpted skirt, over that corset. And when I came back to the mirror and peeled it all off, it looked as though my chest was healing. My breasts looked nice. My face was so strong.
Oh, the chemically tampered mind in sleep..... all those everyday fears evaporated terrors hazy.... but then, in the gray, balmy cool of my dream nightair, there they are: stars in the fucking horrible acts played out so vividly that I awake hurting everywhere. Or maybe I was time traveling again.
Nick would probably secretly find me stupid for saying that. I think he was always secretly dissapointed that I was a kook and not the right kind. Not his kind. Not dark enough, not seious enough, not smart enough. But no, I'm-- you know, living proof goddamn fairies exist or something. Not an intellectual anymore. I never was. I'm so much happier accepting that I'm not.
I think I want to start painting. And learn guitar. I think I could write better songs on guitar. And Jon said some people can't even play that G chord! You know what was funny about him? When he kissed me, it felt like love. Even if it wasn't. I wonder about those people. The ones that can kiss you like they're in love with you when they're not? FASCINATING! It really is. I wonder if I'm that kind of person? Because that's what I need, really. That weird chemistry to make me forget that I lost that one.
There is no craft to this. That makes me sick. I tried to do some CSS layout work today on the new home for the fiery state hotel, but I was having trouble and got frustrated. I work so much better with IFrames. But I used to go hours on that shit until I learned it, until I got it right. And I miss that. Maybe I'll work on it again now. Soon, this blog will have a home completely conceptualized, designed and constructed by me. And I didn't even go to school for that, son!
Dave says son. It's funny when he says it.
Oh, I forgot, I was going to post a conversation Ben and I had last night on AIM. I just rediscovered AIM. Grandma doesn't understand all the new whoozits and whatzits of version 9.387, wtf if going on over there? I couldn't even figure out how to IM someone, and then a telephone started ringing. Wha?
Okay, so the post right on top of this one will be Ben and Shannon AIM Conversation #1. Thank you and goodnight.
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