ericboy's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Broken Teeth I had the wierdest dream last night. I was in a public place of some sort, it seemed almost like a hotel bar. Anyway, I'm talking to a friend of mine, whom I remembered upon waking up but have forgotten now, and all of a sudden I feel one of my teeth break off in my mouth. I stop talking and tongue it out and look at it. It's quite disgusting and it seemed to just split and fall off the root, like the snap-on suits from Happy Meal action figures. Then I feel another and another. I clamp my hand to my mouth and get up in a fluster. My friend tries to calm me and keeps asking me what's wrong. I don't want to talk because I don't want a piece of tooth to fly out at him/her. I rush to the bathroom in extreme discomfort, that I seemed to feel in my sleep. I bustle past people with tears in my eyes and a mouth full of broken teeth. It seemed like what it'd be like to walk around with an overabundance of Lego's in your mouth. I get to the bathroom and spit them into the sink. A virtual mountain of broken teeth are piled in front of me; more than I ever thought anyone ever had. I open my mouth and look at myself in the mirror. All of my teeth are there, more than I have now. But they're not normal. They're almost translucent and very moist. They looked like hominy, which I can't fucking stand, only they were harder. Not as strong as actual teeth but still hard. It was as if they were young teeth. As if someone or something had planted them inside my gums and they were sprouting. I awoke this morning frightened and shaken. This dream disturbed me so deeply and I'm not even sure why. I've returned to the time-honored tradition of making lists. I listed today: All the telephone numbers from my cell-phone All the women I'd slept with and All the things that I still need to do before leaving for San Diego For some strange reason, it felt good. Damn good. Almost as if I had done something constructive. I miss that feeling. What with having no goals and not attending any kind of scholastic program, it's quite rare that I ever accomplish anything. So I take pride in ridiculous, remedial tasks. Like for instance, purposeless lists. Work this morning was the perfect antecedent to my dream. The general uneasiness that I carried with me blended quite well into the irregular flow of customers. All in all, it was quite terrible. I use the word "quite" too often. Anyway, I only made fifteen dollars but it's fifteen dollars more than I had when I went in, which was nothing. I spent all of my money last night drinking with my friends. We had a good time, though, and we're going to do it again tonight. Change of plans: I won't be "rocking out" with Too Bad Mice. An acquaintance of mine who runs sound for them told me that the old lead singer has been brought back as a tentative lead, however they are still auditioning. I decided to just bow out, seeing as how I'll be leaving the state in a little over a month anyway and I don't really want to step on anybody's toes. Joe is a good singer and an excellent showman and I hope that this time they have a much longer and more successful run. So, instead, it's back to Rookie's! Joined by a half-dozen of my closest friends and about 200 or so people that I don't (and don't want to) know, I'll be doing the karaoke thing. I think the small stage is where I belong anyway. I'm only there to entertain myself, so why should I subject large crowds of people to a performance that's purely masturbatory? I love that word. When my hand falls I feel the weight of the world roll off my shoulders and down my back. It takes to flight off the ramp of my ass and I hear it land only slightly behind me. I'm free of it now. My feet send signals of bliss and gratitude which feel more like pins and needles, but they're just so pleased to have blood running through them again that they can't help themselves. My arms ache and pulsate with my heartbeat, the way you imagine Superman's might after dropping a frozen lake or Mack truck. My neck creaks in delight on having the ability to move, no longer in a forced bow of reverence, but free to move in a myriad of patterns. I smile and see the sun smiling back at me. This is what it's like to be free where the world can't touch me. I think I kind of like it. Time spent with Becki yesterday was anything but time ill-spent. When she arrived at my house I still had not gotten out of bed and so she laid down with me and I put my face on the back of her shoulders and she acclimatized me to how things were going in her life. I kept my responses to a minimum since I knew that her shoulder-blades were quite sensitive. I think it made the few words that I did use all the more well-received. Then we went to EspressoSelf Cafe and had sandwiches and coffee and I read Paul's latest diary entries and gave her all my vegetables, which she refused. Then we came right back to my house and sat in her car and listened to Lisa Loeb as she chastised me for my intentions to move to San Diego. I smiled through it all, knowing that I will miss her likely twice as much as she will miss me. Then we parted ways, only to see each other again soon. When my roommates and I signed the lease for this place, it stated that we were supposed to have our own laundry room, but, instead, we're using theirs, which puts us in a rather humbling position. This place is a madhouse that is sucking away my will to achieve. Oh, someone hold me quick, for the tide in my brain is rising and the shutters were blown off long ago. Where will we be when the sun comes up and the cereal gets soggy? Who will we turn to when God dies again? I can't recall ever feeling this alone but I can't decide if it's a blessing or a curse. 2:23 p.m. - 2002-11-14 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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