Flotsam and Jetsam

by angeliska on January 31, 2006

I was working in my garden the other day
and accidentally unearthed this little friend:
knotty, knotty little snakey!



Some things:
I made kombucha tea.
✶ If you want to come to yoga class with me,
it’s bring a friend for free week.
The Ötzi Curse Strikes Seventh Person
Spotting Sex-Rats in Polygamy
The Perfect Medium: Photography and the Occult
Bosnian Pyramids
Baby Cyclops Goatie
✶ My sister is going to be here soon!
✶ I got a job at a toy store.
✶ Everything is about to get even more interesting.
✶ Can we go here? Now, please?
Feast your eyes, why don’t you?
✶ Christiane Cegavske’s film “Blood Tea and Red String”
She worked on it for 12 years.
If you live in SF you can see it Thursday, February 2nd
at the Castro Theater at 5:00 pm and
Saturday, February 4th at the Roxie at noon.
(Danke, )
Some Books I Would Like Please:
The Seven Addictions and Five Professions of Anita Berber-
Weimar Berlin’s Priestess of Depravity

Suffled How It Gush: A North American Anarchist in the Balkans
Ghostwritten
Here’s a dream from January 19th, 2005:
(It was my grandfather’s birthday)
I’m rummaging in my abandoned shack
for liquor bottles, pernod, chartreuese, whatever’s left.
I fill the cart with neccesaries and head down Holly St.
balancing my sword over the rim, cars speeding past me.
I take a shortcut through a dim and sleekly elegant yakuza lounge
where thick thugs and slim, savage chieftains gamble and flirt
with furious geisha who totter after me and my rattling cart, tut-tutting.
My sword’s cheap thai steel has become of the brightest damascus,
polished like a mirror- a masterpiece transformed from pretty junk.
But I’ve gone mad, and spit on the steps as I leave
this dangerous shortcut hearing the painted women
mutter like cherry branches in a violent storm.
Eventually they trail me and take my cart and sword away
and wrap me in soft blankets and take me to my room
which is sky blue, sea blue, with robin’s egg blue glass
windows through which I can spy a rippled beach.
Oh what peace I find within.
And then I miss Mardi Gras because I can’t get down
the stairs in my costume which sadly, isn’t all that different
from what I wore last year and I miss the best part
and everyone tells me how fantastic it was.
I dream about smoking “just one”
which is sometimes divinely satisfying
and sometimes horribly unpleasant
and always I shake myself awake in a panic.
どんな左2005.I’m 1 月19 日、アルコール飲料のびんの私の断念されたshack 、
chartreuese pernod で買物をする。私はneccesaries でカートを満たし、縁、
私を過ぎて促進する車上の私の剣のバランスをとるヒイラギの
St. の下で先頭に立つ。私は厚い刺客私の後でよろめくおよびtut-tutting
私のがらがらと鳴るカート取る細く、野蛮なチーフテンが激烈な芸者と賭け、
flirt ヤクザの薄暗く、なめらかに優雅なラウンジを通して近道を。
私の剣の安いタイの鋼鉄は傑作がきれいながらくたから変形させたミラー
のように最も明るいダマスカスの、磨いたなった。しかし私は塗られた女性は激しい
嵐のチェリーの枝のようにつぶやくことを聞いている私が私の危ない近道を残すと同時に気違いに行き、
ステップで吐く。結局それらは私を引きずり、私のカートおよび剣を取り、
柔らかい毛布の包み、そしてスカイブルー、
私が波立てられた浜を調査できるロビンの卵の青いガラス窓が付いている海の青、
である私の部屋に連れて行く。どんな平和私がwithin.
And をそして私見つけるかオハイオ州は私が時々神に満足し、
時々恐ろしく不愉快私パニックで目がさめている自分自身をいかに揺するかかどれが素晴らしい常に”ちょうど
1 つ” を煙らすことについてのwas.I の夢別の私が私逃す最もよい部分を逃し、
去年身に着けていた皆は私に告げ、ものをと悲しげに、
それすべてでない私の衣裳の階段の下で得ることができないので謝肉祭を。そし
て私は私が時々神に満足し、
時々恐ろしく不愉快私パニックで目がさめている自分自身をいかに揺するかかどれが素晴らしい
常に”ちょうど1 つ” を煙らすことについてのwas.
I の夢最もよい部分を去年身に着けていた皆が私に逃すか別の私が言うものをと悲しげに、
それすべてでない私の衣裳の階段の下で得ることができないので謝肉祭を逃し、。
And sort of translated out, by a sort of robot:
What kind of left 2005.
I’m January 19th, the alcoholic drinks
it is to extend it shops with shack
and chartreuese pernod where I am given up.
I fill up the cart with neccesaries,
the edge, pass me and under St. of ヒイラギ
which takes the balance of the onboard my sword
which promotes take the lead.
I wobble after thick assassin me
and tut-tutting my and others
and others the cart which sounds you take,
to be thin, the geisha and the betting and the flirt yak
where the savage chieftain is violent be dim,
smoothly through the elegant lounge the shortcut.
The steel iron of the tie where my sword is cheap
polished like the mirror which it makes it
become deformed from the junk
where the masterpiece is clean the brightest Damascus, it became.
But as for me as for the woman who was painted
like the branch of the extreme stormy cherry
when the shortcut where I who inquire
about ぶ anther thing me am dangerous is left,
it goes to the lunatic simultaneously,
spits with step.
After all, those drag me, take my cart and the sword,
the package, and the sky blue of the soft blanket,
blue of the sea
where the glass window
where the egg of the robin
which can investigate the beach
where I can billow is blue
has been attached, keep accompanying in my room which is.
What kind of peaceful I and personal opinion attach within.
And as for me I am satisfied with occasionally with God,
occasionally to be fearful how it shakes me by the eye
has awakened in unpleasant my panic, the dream of was.
I always either one is splendid concerning
“exactly the smoke and others doing one”
everyone who attaches the best part to last year’s body
lets escape to me or, those which another I say heavyheartedly,
being not to be possible,
to obtain under the stairway of my design
which is not that everything it lets escape
thanking/apologizing meat festival.

One comment

[…] have been kicked. I can’t believe I forgot to mention one of my most common recurring dreams: the smoking dream! I quit smoking in January of 2006, the day after my birthday. It was one of the most difficult […]

by Angeliska Gazette › Recurring Dreams II. - Smoke + Dust on July 20, 2009 at 2:12 pm. Reply #

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