dream journal


18 november
cripes. i just lost it. i had the dream in my memory and as soon as i started to write, it left. sorry. i think i t was a good one too. damn.

16 november
i'm being led on a guided tour of hell by the dark master formerly known as prince -- who else? am i dead? i dont think so. i think it was just sort of a recruitment tour. he was showing me that things were really not so bad, so i should continue with my heathen ways. true, things were not bad, but they werent very interesting either. hell was a large office/school-type complex with lots of separate rooms (analogous to dante's circles). but nothing (either torturous or fun) much was really going on at all. it was pretty disappointing, but i was impressed by the fact that they had prince.

10 november
i am visiting matt and robert's apt in chicago. as soon as i walk inside, i know something is wrong. There are two large garbage bags on the floor, blood seeping out of them and a shotgun lying nearby. a note taped to the wall reveals that the boys had had some kind of suicide pact, shooting themselves "with Steve's rifle." after my initial shock, i settle into the business at hand. i found them so it is my responsibility to call everyone who knew them and tell them all what happened. each phone call is long, torturously morose and draining.

8 november
serial killer on the loose (this is getting to be a trend), rampaging through the art museum building. there's some big fundraiser going in the ballroom to be hosted by teh illustrious mr. martin short. mr. short is nowhere to be found moments before the big event. "did he say where he was going?" i ask someone in charge. "he said ihe was going to the bathroom, but that was days ago," he responds. i venture out to find him, but i already know what's happened. as i approach the bathroom, the rancid smell confirms my worst fears. i creep in slowly, fearing for my own life and find not only the badly magled body of martin short, but also the remains of sarah marcus. her body is split neatly in half, the top half in one stall and the bottom in another. i expecte dto see martin short, but sarah's death is most unexpected and i reel out of the bathroom dumbstruck. as i run up the stairs, i see asa, sarah's boyfriend, coming down the stairs. he is totally oblivious to teh fate that has befallen sarah. "hey veronica! what's up?" he says amiably. i burst into tears and he suddenly just knows whats going on. he flies down the stairs into the bathroom and i collapse on the stairs, sobbing.

4 november
walking down a plank toward the beach, there is a young man trying to get young women to allow him to smell their armpits. everyone scatters, appalled.

24 october
whoa! crazy ass upsetting dream about a supernatural serial killer with the ability to inhabit unsuspecting human hosts to do its bidding. no time to detail it now, but some highlight:
- transmission of evil through prosthetic limbs
- death by severed carotid artery
- evisceration of bumblebutte (and consequent reanimation)
- and much, much more!

7 october
eating *mass* amounts of food in dining commons, i mention to my fellow diners that it's no surprise i gained 15 pounds my first year at reed (in truth, i didn't). janeane garafalo is there and she mentions that she, too, has recently gained a lot of weight. i suddenly notice that she's enormous. "of course," she adds, "i am 6 months pregnant." i try to imagine janeane as a mother and cannot

5 october
i'm visiting paris again and very happy to be there. vanessa meets me at the airport and we almost immediately go to a lovely sidewalk cafe for refreshment. i'm so pleased to be seeing her and to be in paris again, but i suddenly realize what a financial nightmare this trip is making for me. oh well. not much to do about it now. though i decide to put it out of my mind, this money thought continues to plague me throughout the trip. at the cafe, i remember that jonah and jacob were also planning a trip to france together at this same time. perhaps this was something f a fcator in my choosing this particular time? anyway, i decide to try to track them down and whatdoy'know? they're at the very same cafe! i go up to them to surprise them. they seem pleased to see me, but not too terribly surprised. we arrange to meet some time in nebulous future.
i go to vanessa's flat with her. it's a 7 storey walk up. about halfway up i realize it's a *french* 7 storey, so it's even more floors than i'd originally braced myself for. vanessa leaps of the stairs in great energetic bounds. by the 3rd floor, i'm ready to pass out and my legs feel like lead. i force myself up and collapse in the apartment. maybe i won't leave teh aprtment so often on this trip.
vanessa leaves me to go to work or something and i decide to try to track the boys down. i go downstairs. there is a tres convenient metro station in the lobby, but i realize i can't get on teh train. not only did i forget to exchange my currency, i only have large bills, $20s and $50s.

1 october
more than i really remember... something about discovering that my soulmate was this grungy homeless guy and i had to question my principles as i resisted pursuing this relationship even though i knew we were meant to be together.

26 september
staying at justin's apt, i had a paranoid dream that his roommates were out to get me. we were all sitting watching tv and on the telly came a commercial advertising their couch for sale. teh ad said that the couch had been ruined by an unnamed house guest who'd slept on it and mussed it up. i felt terrible.

22 september
no time to write in depth right now, but here are teh major components: -a total liquidation sale at the film center. i pilfer and only claim two pairs of shoes and plaques with amusing little aphorisms and puns. jonah shows up and i show him my new shoes.
-around this time i get a letter from my sister inviting me to come stay with her in belize. apparently i consent since i'm suddenly in belize. -we're driving down the belize highway (for some reason in the dream i believe belize is an island) and i see all the store fronts -- they look like kauai.
- i become obsessed w/ finding out what language they're speaking. its sounds like spanish, except not. i wonder if it's portugese. "it's a new language"
- get to the apartment. big confusing plot development involving robert, matt, etal.

14 september
all i remember is that at some point someone gives me a what they identify as the ultimate junk food treat. i unwrap it -- it's a stick of butter rolled in granualted sugar with a brown sugar center. i am at first repulse, then intrigued. i consider taking a bite, but really dont think myself capable. i decide that it would be best sliced and mixed in with cream of rice. yum.

12 september

so i've got this rash, see, and it wakes me up in teh middle of the night. actually, most nights i've just been awake all night long alternately scratching or trying not to scratch. more than you want to know, i'm sure, but what are you doing reading this page if you weren't prepared to see the ugliest side of me? anyway, last night i wake up suddenly and all these dreams are in my head, they're crazy and i laugh to myself wondering how my subconscious made this shit up. but it all slips away before i can even find a pen. the only thing i remember is what i made myself say out loud, "a 7 year old african boy named Acme." apparently there was some kid(?) in my dream named Acme who was either very old, but looked 7 years old, or was 7 years old and looked very old.


10 september
a really long, complex dream. it woke me up at 4 a.m. in terror; and if it hadnt been for the sleep paralysis i would have written it all down then. its a shame, too, because i know i've lost a lot of it. but here's what i remember:
i'm looking over a newspaper with a friend, possibly justin. we're trying to decide what movie to see, but it's odd since we're looking to rent a video and we're looking at movie ads in the entertainment section. justin points to an ad for a movie called "cued". its title is written in big, silly gothy letter. justin says he's been wanting to see that movie for a while and "look at that font!" he says. "i heard they designed it so that the sequel title will look exactly the same." i imagine "cued 2" written in teh same font and am amazed to relize that he is right; it would look exactly the same. we agree to watch the film.
it is a low-budget, independent film in black and white. it's kind of a exploitation horror/alien/slasher kind of thing, but arty. the first scene opens in a classroom. the teenagers' teacher is telling them of an evil presence in the world, but the kids don't listen. they make fun of their crazy old teacher while he just shakes his head saying, "they'll learn, they'll learn." one of the guys in the classroom looks strikingly familiar. i identify him as "richard" apparently some guy i'd had a relationship with "back in february". i try to remember what went wrong and why we broke up, but i can't. i figure it must have just been apathy, so i resolve to track him down and get back together with him.
as the classroom scene ends, our living room scene becomes both part of and outside the movie. i hear a sound outside the apartment door. first there are sounds of argument and struggle. then an inhuman, but almost comical, howl and grunt. a short scream followed by nothing. heart racing, i go out into the hall to investigate. the door of the aprtment across teh hall (apparently where friends of mine live) is slightly ajar. i push it open and walk inside. my friend is lying face down in a corner of her bedroom motionless. i turn her over to see her face -- she's dead. i reel out of the room. her roommate is home, but he's completely preoccupied with whatever he's doing and obviously has not seen a thing. i'm afraid that if i'm caught there i'll be accused of the murder. i walk swiftly to the door, trying not to make any noise. as i open the door and walk out , i see some kind of humanoid reptilian creature hiding under a bookshelf in the hallway. i know this is what killed her, but the most important thing to me right now is to get back to the safety of my aprtment. so i hurry across the way and lock the door behind me. i continue to look into the hallway from the peephole in the door. i see the creature scurry out and feel a greta sense of relief that it is now gone. suddenly, i realize that my finger prints are all over the other apartment. i sneak back out of my apartment and start to clean my fingerprints off the door knob when the roommate spots me. i try to play it off. "hey! " i say "how's it going? just dropped by to say, but i gotta go!" and i run back out the door and into my own apartment.
we resume watching the movie. the movie is pretty graphic and violent. i'm not too interested in it, since i am a little distracted by the murder across the hall, but i am determined to watch it through to the end so i make sure that the actor is in fact "richard" as i'd identified him in the opening scene.
i hear the police arrive across the hall. i look through te peephole again and see that the roommate is now also dead. the cops come knock on my door, but i dont answer. darcy comes home in tears. "i just got this letter," she sobs. i open it. it's written by the monster, or someone writing on his behalf. it lists the names of many of darcy's friends. at the bottom the letter explains that as punishment for something i had done (what, i don't know) all of darcy's friends would be killed. this was supposed to force me to some kind of action, but i didnt know what. i had a sense that i was to be framed for the murders, but i wasnt sure. i tell darcy that i will find out what's going on and i leave the apartment to do just that.
i walk down the street in what is ostensibly downtown portland, but looks strikingly like university ave in berkeley. i am discussing the recents traumas with some friends when i suddenly spot jeanne. she looks crazed, maniacal, angry. i immediately understand what's going on. she is behind this monster scheme. either she has been disguising herself as a monster and killing people or she has trained the monster to kill at her behest. i want to avoid a confrontation with her so i walk swiftly down the street. as i walk i remember that "richard" works in thsi area and i should spend more time here since i'd have a better chance of runninng into him, though it is rather out of my way. as i am trying to remember in which building richard works, jeanne catches up to me, spouting invectives. i keep walking but she keeps pace with me. finally, i stop and face her. "what do you want from me?" i cry. "why are you doing this? what are you trying to accomplish?" she just grins. her sudden silence is maddening. "are you trying to get me to take the blame for this? will you stop if i do?" still no response. i consider briefly what i've said. was i really willing to take the responsibility for dozens of brutal murders? as much as i wanted the killings to end, this did not seem feasible, especially since i wasn't even sure that would stop her. "WHY DON'T YOU JUST KILL ME?" i scream. she laughs and runs off down the street. as much as i dont want to spend the rest of my life in jail, i also dont want to die. i hurry home, fearing for my life all teh while. i get home and sneak in the back to avoid teh cops who have come looking for me. inside my apartment i can hear the monster scratching at the door. hurriedly, i put in the video tape. in part, i'd like to see what's going to happen next in the movie since that will also be whathappens next to me, but i also want still want to see the credits and be certain that it really was richard in the movie. as i am watching the television willing the film to go faster i hear the monster in another apartment next door. i cannot ignore it any longer. i go outside to confront it/stop it/kill it. i see the monster attacking my next door neighbor. i grab her by the hand and we run into teh bathroom and lock the door behind us. to our amazemnet, teh monster does not follow. i peek out through a crack in the door. i see jeanne sitting in the apartment living room watching us watching her on the TV. she is so engrossed that she doesnt notice the monster coming up behind her. he lays one hand on her shoulder and one over her throat. she doesn't even flinch. i understand that he will now kill her and then die once his master is dead. the killings will end there.
i woke up at this point, terrified, but relieved that the dream at least resolved itself. when i fell back asleep the dream continued for a bit. in the wake of the murders, i decided to re-embrace my catholic faith. i resolved to start going to church again. i went to the church (which was a small classroom in eliot hall) and entered the room. i felt awfully awkward in there, not having been in church of my own volition for a very long time. compounding my sense of out-of-placeness is the fact that the sermon is on the recent events in my life an deveryone there is dealing with the grief of these grisly mass murders. as i start to find a pew to sit down, i see andy sitting in the back on a table by the back door. i begin to smile and say hello but as soon as he sees me his face becomes contorted with grief, hostility and disgust. he blames me for the deaths of his friends. i take a seat, realizing that this silent resentment is my true punishment.

9 september
i'm watching a movie about nazi concentration camps when i'm suddenly inside the film as a character. my "mother" in the film, a stern looking german frau, is suspected of being a spy for the allied powers. an angry mob of nazis all wearing the identical atrociously loud plaid suit await to administer some vigilante justice. I attempt to quell the mob with some soap box grandstanding, but I fail. They descend upon her and what happens to her after that is unknown to me.

1 september
i'm visiting matt and robert at their apartment in chicago. i am sleeping on a cot in the living room, sharing some space with robert, but he keeps running back to his bedroom. i think there is some girl in there and i'm mildly jealous, but not overly. after he's wandered away again, i decide to go outside and explore the neighborhood. as i walk outside i see a number of gangsta-types hanging out up the block. i try to cross the street to avoid them, but one of tehm follows me. "hey you!" he says menancingly, "gimme what you got." i hold out my hands and shake my head, "i don't have anything."
"c'mon! you're holding out on me," he pulls a knife, "hand it over."
i'm not carrying anything. so i lift my shirt slightly to show that my pants have no pockets. "see? no pockets. i'm not even wearing any fuckin' shoes, man!" it's only as i say this that i become aware of the fact that i am indeed barefoot and walking on asphalt. it's a good thing, though, because this impresses him enough to leave me alone.
i see qvimby's up the street and think visiting, but i'm too embarrassed to go in barefoot. so instead i go into this goodwill nextdoor. vanessa is there and before even saying hello she's showing me her latest finds. i try on a skirt and a pair of pants -- very cute! but outrageously expensive for second hand clothes. "chicago blows," i grumble.

27 august
darcy and i are at some kind of a conference in a large auditorium. at the front of the room is a large screen television and a speaker. handouts are going around the room. darcy and i share one. this is how i learn that the topic of the conference is sex, specifically the possibilities of geraitric sexual relations (i think this is just my brain making fun of me). i look behind me to see the other attendees and they're all quite old. there is a blue cast over most of them, giving them a cartoonish look. the handout is a clinical, but explicit, quiz presenting hypothetical questions which i'll not share here. darcy and i laugh over the silly questions, but because we are sitting in the front row, the speaker hears us and stops. she is obviously perturbed that we young punks have disrupted her very serious speech. so she announces that it's time for the panel discussion and insists that we be on the panel. i'm terribly embarassed because i can't even talk about sex in front of my friends let alone this room full of angry old people. i trudge up on stage as i look for ways to escape.

24 august
a really disturbing dream about making a casserole for a dinner party out of my own internal organs and excrement. i know, i know... more than you wanted to know. but you'll be glad to know that i won't go into any more detail than that. just think about the dreams i deem too inappropriate to html-ize at all.

20 august
on the last day of testimony, after all the summations were complete, the judge announced that we jurors would not in fact be deciding the case. instead, the names of every person in the court room -- lawyers, plaintiffs, defendants, lookers-on -- would be drawn at random and *those* people would be responible for deciding the verdict. all the jurors would deliberate at a table in the middle of the court room while everyone watched. as the names were called, i began to realize that things were going to be pretty slanted; theywere all the names of the plaintiff's family. i and the judge were the last names called. i knew we were in for long and stressful deliberation.

18 august
this jury duty thing is getting to me. i dreamt last night that all the jurors were asked to take the stand and explain -- cross examination style -- why we delivered the verdict we did. on my turn, my heart was racing as i rounded the corner on the witness stand. i looked under the counter to see what it is that people keep hitting when they pull their chairs forward. the floor underneath the stand is uneven and in one spot, the floor drops out completely. now i understand why it is that some many people looked unsteady in their seats while testifying.

9 august
i am in my bedroom at mom's house. i've promised corky the lend of a book, but things are such a mess, i can't find the appropriate book. in fact, the only ones i can find are all the books i've pulled out to sell or donate -- i.e., the ones i no longer want. they're terribly embarrassing books -- mostly supermarket trash. i start to explain why those books are most prominent, but corky cuts me off. "i know why they're there," he says reassuringly. "i should really get these organized," i sigh. i start to sort the books. "no, no," he says, "let's get poison bob to do it." i look out the door and realize that my bedroom is actually a part of the film center and our newest intern, "poison bob", a scruffy looking, sketchy fella, is standing outside at the er desk. "he needs something to do," corky offers. i concur, but i don't really want him touching my belongings.


5 august
i'm standing outside of reading frenzy (which is now in berkeley on the corner of dwight and shattuck). i'm going to buy several copies of the salinger collection. i'm waiting for suzie who is supposed to meet me here. some guy walks up to me and asks what i'm doing. i explain too much-- including the whole salinger story from being to end. he is intrigued and i'm bored. why did i go into such detail with him? now he thinks i want to talk to him. thankfully, suzie arrives and we go inside. i see someone working who i think at first is sean, but as we get closer i realize it's not him at all, though they do resemble each other. this man has some kind of thick euro accent and is rather difficult to understand and communicate with. i try to explain that i want to buy the book -- winkwink -- and he keeps trying to direct me to the shelves. no, no -- nudgenudge -- the book -- knowwhatimean? finally he gets up and goes into the backroom. as he pulls back the curtain i see a vast book warehouse -- rf is the backbone of the underground press in the americas. i am surprised and not surprised. i get my books -- three copies and begin to pay for it when i realize i haven't any money. so i put it on plastic.

3 august
a new kobos company store has opened on broadway and morrison, only a block away from the old store. "that seems kinda pointless," i think to myself, but that's not so surprising. i go in to see if i stil know anyone working there. tom is there and he invites me behind to the counter to get whatever i want. the bar is enormous. i pour myself a cup of coffee and take two pastries from the case. one is a horribly greasy, deep fried gallette of some kind. it looks lethal, but i eat it anyway and it is delicious.

2 august
jonah shows up at my apartment unannounced. "are you ready to shoot tonight? it's your turn." i had completely forgotten that i was supposed to be directing for video party that night. i play it off casually, saying, "oh yeah, i'm ready, no problem." after he leaves, i panic. i only have about an hour or so to get ready so i scramble to get a camera and otehr equipment. after making some calls, i remember that the more importnat thing would be to get a *script* together. i wonder if i can structure a sort of improv performance piece.

31 july
a giant shiny black spider crawls into my bag. it's clearly poisonous. i try to sit on it to kill it, but then suddenly realize what a bad idea that would be.

29 july
i am at a playground watching the children play. where i sit is partially obscured from the children's view by a low fence so they don't really seem to notice me. one by one the children leave the yard until there is just one young girl left on the swings. suddenly, a man runs up to her and snatches her off the swings. he means to kidnap and assault her, but i am unable to react. frozen in place, i stare in horror as he runs off with the girl. some friends happen upon me in my catatonic state. they ask me what the matter is, but i cannot answer. they take me to a doctor. there is a rusty, squeaking sound in the room and the doctor is tryingto figure out what it is. he looks in my ear and when he does he can see the kidnapping scene i witnessed. "that must have been very traumatic for you. that squeaking sound is the sound of the empty swing. it represents your sadness for this loss of innocence."

28 july
28 july
evryone -- and i mean everyone -- is talking about going to the henry fool free screening on thursday. no one says hello or how are you as greeting, but instead, "are you going?" we're all clutching our free passes like our lives depended on them. the dream was preety much a recreation of the real life scene at the Film Center yesterday when those passes first showed up. this was also my first hal hartley related dream since that awesome one about martin donovan last year.

26 july
swanky banquet dinner for folks involved in some kind of business or social organization of which i am a part. apparently we had tried to have this dinner the week before, but it fell through. but we had placed our dinner orders last week. i ordered vegetable medley last week, but i am now no longer in the mood for it. "can i order something else?" i ask and the organizer of the even explodes. "absolutely not! you placed your order so you should either eat it or not come at all!" with that attitude i'd rather not come at all so i take a large piece of leftover spanikopita and go to another part of the building.
i'm in kind of an airport lounge bar and surprisingly my dad is there. i'm very pleased to see him. we sit and chat for awhile. he unexpectedly jumps up and says, "it's alcohol time! can i get you something?"
confused, i stammer, "uh... no thanks. i don't drink." (note that my dad rarely if ever drinks in real life)
he heads off to the bar and orders something huge and orange. meanwhile some suave hipster sits down next to me and starts to chat me up. i start to dig into my spanikopita in order to avoid talking to him. i take a bite. it tastes kind of funny though not altogether unpleasant. pop sits back down. "how's your spanikopita?" he asks.
"well, it's all right, but i don't really think it's spanikopta." i pull back the top layer of phyllo dough to reveal the filling: raw, whole leave of spinach piled high, sliced dill pickles, green onion stalks and sauteed white onions.
the hipster looks over at my dinner. "you know, i know some spanikopita chefs -- i used to be one myself -- and in fact i know the very people who made your dinner here and i tell you they're a messed up bunch. the two guys who made this, they're fulltime smack addicts. i know this because i used to be an addict, too, but i've been clean for two years now and --"
"that's good, son. i'm proud of you," pop interjects.
"thank you sir, i'm proud of myself, too. so anyway they dont care about the art of the spanikopita, they only care about getting them out. look! they didnt even cook the spinach!"
i'm really hungry and i no longer have any appetite for this thing so i decide to swallow my pride and go to the banquet to score some food. when i get there, most of the food is gone, but there's still some dregs. everyone is in high spirits so i don't get any flack for flaking earlier. i talk to someone in charge and she starts to ladle out a vast amount os pasta salad ont a plate. "i think there are some hot dogs in there, but you can pick them out." at this point i'm so hungry i don't really care.

25 july
i slept long and hard tonight with no alarm clock to jolt me out of sleep so i remember quite a few of my dreams from tonight. they are as follows:
1.party in tirza's bedroom
several of us are lying on the bed lolling about and chatting -- just like parties in real life. 80s era new wave music plays on the stereo. i'm flipping through tirza's collection of duran duran stuff. someone says "don't you think it's funny that the only new wave bands anyone remembers are the american ones when the movement began in britain?" that's funny, i think to myself, i can only remeber british new wavers and can't think of a single american band. but i keep this to myself. "here -- let's play this," i say as response. i pop a duranduran tape into a seemingly solid silver box and sound begins. mike walks in and says, "you're all just sitting on the bed listening to duran duran?!" i'm kind of embarrassed that he's caught me in this comprimising position, but i just say, "yup! we sure are! join us." he says he'll have to leave in a half an hour. long enough, i think. we snuggle a bit in our skivvies, but when i try to kiss him, he says, "no. aksie." meaning, i suppose, his girlfriend. i'm disappointed but okay with it all. he gets up to go and there are clothes strewn everywhere. i laugh, "if someone walked in right now they'd get a really wrong impression of what was going on!"
he chuckled. "so will you meet me for a drink tomorrow night?"
"where?"
"have you ever been to the flaming lip?" i hadn't. "it's out in gresham, but it's really good."
2. robert's last day
we go into bar, he orders two drinks. he seems very quiet and distant. "look," i say, "this is your last day here. would you rather spend it with me or..." he cuts me off. "spend it with you."
i smile. "let's get out of here." we go out to the car and as we're driving away a group of rowdy teenagers run us off the road into a cul-de-sac. it's a very scenic inspiration point kind of a place and as he pulls up the parking brake i say, "but what if some angry farmer comes after us with a shotgun?"
3. chloe and coffee
at some huge outdoor gathering, there are so many people that i cannot make it across the street to the coffee cart. there is a bus coming by at that moment just barely making its way through the crowd. i decide to leap aboard just to get out of the mess. chloe is there and we sit together. "i just want a cup of coffee!" she sighs. "me too" i say. i meant only to go one stop on the bus, but we now seem to be miles away from the event. "we should get off the bus and find some coffee," i suggest. "yeah," chloe says. "they might have some at that place," she points to some fast food joint with a giant cartoon pigheadon the side."
"uh... maybe..." i say, not too optimistically.
4. nan's apron
i am visiting lloyd center kobos and wander into the back room. hanging on hooks are everyone's aprons with nametags. all except one of them are the new burgundy aprons. the one old blue one has nan's nametag on it. i figure she has refused to wear the crappy new aprons. but the apron is filthy. in response to her rebellion, they are punishing her by not cleaning the apron. "why doesnt nan just take it home and wash it?" i ask no one in particular. "i would have thought she was too proud to wear such a filthy thing.

24 july 1998
so i got all excited about resussitating the dream journal the other day, but i had forgotten about one limiting factor : no dreams. or rather, no dreams i remember. so instead, i'll throw in a few relatively recent ones i do remember.

8 july 1998
as i am brushing my teeth in the bathroom, i look into the mirror and notice that my two front teeth are completely black. my gums are receding to the point that i'm afraid my teeth will not be able to hold. i can plainly see the roots. i try carefully flossing around the teeth, but i'm afraid i'm just going have to have them pulled. i wonder how funny i'll look with no front teeth.

4 july
standing on a rocky ocean shore looking out over the horizon. wherever we are, we've got to get away. there is land in the distance, a barely visible strip just along the horizon. i estimate it at about six miles -- could i swim that? are there sharks in these waters? "what is that over there?" i ask someone pointing at the distant land mass. "china. yen ching province." (note that i don't actually know if that is a real province in china or not, but it sounds good, doesn't it?) "what?!" i exclaim, "we can't swim into communist china waters! we'll be shot down miles from the shore!"
"well, what are we supposed to do then?" everyone was looking to me for an answer.
"what we need is a boat."

30 june
i'm taking a vacation with several friends. "it'll be a blast!" they say. "you'll never believe it!" we go into a highrise building in downtown portland. "i thought you said we were going to another country!" i protest. "oh but we are!" they laugh. we get off the elevator on the top floor. it is a vast, empty warehouse with a central room and several smaller rooms just off of it. a hefty, serious looking man in a wifebeater and shorts sits at a table directly in front of the elevator. "welcome to the people's republic of newport," he grunts, "name?" we sign in and he checks our passports and issues us official visas for our stay. we are shown to our rooms and given a basic tour of the "country". i wonder fi this is all legal to declare independence in the middle of a major metropolitan area, but he seems harmless enough. the other tourists gather for a meal at day's end. everyone is flush with the excitement of being the very first people to set foot in a new country. i need a toothbrush and the president of newport points me in the direction of the "general store." "it's full of things you need," he says. the "general store" is a table full of sundry small items. paper clips, chewing gum, hard candy, toothpaste, coffee stir sticks (no coffee), ketchup packets. it's all free, included in the price of the room. i take some stir sticks for later, just in case.