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Tuesday

May 29, 2001

 

 

 

"It isn't so astonishing, the number of things I can remember, as the number of things I can remember that aren't so."

Mark Twain

 

 

 


a doodle with outside commentary

 

 

 

 

 

 

back to the grind with a dream of corruption

I went to sleep with difficulty last night. I awoke amid a dream of a corrupt game show. There was this complicated exchange of checks and stuff, little drawers to hide things in and then they were all busted and everyone was assured the checks wouldn't be cashed. There was driving around in weird cars on weird streets. The dream was complicated and packed with stuff, but most of it is gone when I get up. As happens with dreams.

Driving is always weird in dreams. Sometimes it's the car that is strange. Sometimes the highway which becomes confusing or disappears into weird unprotected flyovers. In yesterday's New York Times, there was an article about the disappearance of the stick shift. It's funny...in real life I have a standard transmission but I never seem to have one in my dreams. In my dreams I'm piloting a car that I always seem to have precious little control over. I guess the gears would give me too much control.

At work, I tried to decide what to say to a big customer in a briefing. I tried to get some upgrades for my flights for a rah-rah trip. Companies shouldn't have rah-rah trips. But they do. And the bigs think they are a good idea. I guess sales guys demand them. "Club," they say casually, leaving out the 100%.

At one stage I'm talking on the phone while doing a doodle of my hand. Later, a friend returns something and, seeing the doodle, comments. I don't understand the comment. (Actually at first I think *I* wrote it and forgot it!) Later, she says she ran out of room to finish the comment on the post-it note. I hope it doesn't get supeoned in some lawsuit.

I have lunch at the parents. We try to remember when they moved into their house. I have to consult my handy journal to see that it wasn't until the middle of July. I guess we put all that waiting out of our minds. Mom is once again asking how to find 'these things' (she is pointing to www. addresses in a magazine for miniature builders). I show her again. One site is all in German. "It says nice little house in German," I tell her. "No, there doesn't seem to be an English version."

At home in the evening, FFP and I eat a salad and some guacamole left over from the salads we served Sunday. Tasty. I find a Fife Vineyards Old Vines 1996 Zin that we had drunk a part of a Vacu-Vined. It is tasty once it warms up. I make packing lists for the both of us and we pack up most things up for our trip.

 

 

 


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