| Dream |
[12 Nov 2006|05:39am] |
Four people who had been infected with different variations of a zombie-virus, trying to escape the facility where they are kept. Two of them are slowly deteriorating, infecting everyone that they bite. A third looks dark purple, with large, puffed out growths all over his body. He has been genetically engineered as nutritious food for the army zombies, with the growths being yummy deposits of vitamins and minerals, or whatever the hell zombies need to be healthy. This third zombie type still has his human brain, and doesn't want to die, but the other two are drawn towards him, and can't help but munch on him.
The fourth zombie is a woman, perhaps attractive in life, but now disfigured and putrid. She is ambling towards me, taking her time. I try to talk to her, but she doesn't have enough of a brain left to comprehend. She just wants to destroy me and consume me in the most painful way possible. I try to fight back, to shover her away or hit her, but as this is a dream, my actions are sluggish. Because I can't fight back I become far more afraid than I was, and start thrashing about. I hear Tarsha's voice saying "It's ok... It's ok..." and feel her hand on my chest, and I am awake.
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| Dream |
[08 Aug 2006|04:50am] |
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It's the middle of winter, everything is frozen solid from an ice storm. Tarsha and I are walking home because the truck we were riding in broke down. It's only a block, but Tarsha is freezing, wrapped in a blanket. A stray dog comes along and we try to avoid it. Tarsha starts running around in circles and the dog is chasing her. I am watching them, unsure of what to do. There's something wrong with the dog, it tries to bark, but it doesn't make any noise. Tarsha is laughing as the dog chases her around. They roll around in what has become mud, and the dog pulls off Tarsha's pullover, dragging it along the ground. In any other situation, I'd think they were a kid and a puppy playing, but I know Tarsha hates winter, hates dogs, and would never roll around in the mud. I'm filming the whole scene, it's taken on an old movie reel quality, but I decide it's time to step in before the dog bites Tarsha. I put the camera down and head towards the dog.
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| Dream |
[26 Jun 2006|09:12am] |
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A movie producer advertises in the yellow pages for people who want to go on acid trips. He tells them myths and legends about the area, things like serial killers and unsolved murders that happened nearby, then loads them up on drugs and sends them into the desert, hoping that the acid trip they have will be an interesting story that he can turn into a movie. The trip goes smoothly, they have visions of the murder victims finding peace by aiding caravans that travel through the desert. Towards the end of the drug trip a car pulls up and the movie producer hops out with a big grin. He wants to congratulate the kids on a job well done, but his loud, overbearing personality is harsh to them, and he frightens them far more than the horror stories he tried to scare them with earlier.
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[16 May 2006|03:42am] |
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Yesterday Tarsha stuck a Girly comic that she found amusing in my bookmarks, and when I noticed it today I proudly exclaimed "Did I ever tell you that I slept with Josh Lesnick?"
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[09 Apr 2006|03:18am] |
I've been learning and practicing the music keyboard again. Barry's keyboard died a few months ago (I think it's just the power cord) so I stopped playing for a while. I snagged a $140 Yamaha to tinker with two weeks ago, and I've been having fun with that. Now that I have a car I've been vaguely thinking about trying to start something up with Barry again, but I doubt anything will come up. I hardly ever do anything creative these days and I feel like my brain is turning into mush. I'd like to start recording my stupid ditties, but it's hard to get started. I suspect I'll have to stumble and crash several times before I come up with something I'm mildly satisfied with. I'm certain I'm driving Tarsha mad with my hyperfocusing, but she's glad I'm working on something I enjoy.
Barry, if you're reading this crap, give me a call. I haven't seen you in a year, and I miss you. I've got a car now and I'd love to drive down and visit some time. Also, your keyboard doesn't work any more.
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[03 Apr 2006|05:46am] |
I have been thirty for about a month now, and in related news, for the past four days I have been the sickest I've ever been in my life. I sat in the emergency room for four hours on Thursday so they could tell me that I don't have the flu, but it's probably something similar and I should stay home and treat it like the flu. Thank you hospital, for pinpointing my misery with such accuracy! I'm glad I spent my four hours in the disease factory to be told to just keep doing what I was doing, instead of staying home and continuing to do what I was doing. If anything I think the doctor made things worse because she told me to take 4 pills of ibuprofin every eight hours, which seems to have upset my stomach far worse than the illness. At the very least I got a note that lets me stay home for a week from work. As long as I don't need money for anything I'll be all set.
Tarsha has been a saint, risking sickness and faithfully sticking by my side the entire time. I've only had the strength to take one half-hearted bath in the past five days, and today Tarsha said I'm starting to emit a "barnyard animal smell". I keep telling her that as soon as this is over she is going to dump my whiny ass, but she claims she would never do such a thing.
I'm slowly feeling better, but it comes and goes in waves. One moment I'm making myself some mac and cheese, and ten minutes later I can't leave the bed because I'm shivering and it feels like my organs don't fit inside my body.
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[25 Jan 2006|09:16am] |
It seems the great crackhead neighbor experiment is over with. After two months of clean living, my cousin Meghan decided to flee Maine on a bus with her daughter and head back to Kansas City. I can't say I'll miss her, but her daughter was a sweet kid, and it's too bad she got stuck with a lousy mother.
Although Meghan was a bit of a loud mouth and a jerk that clearly lacked in the parenting skills department, she wasn't as horrific a neighbor as I'd feared she would be. Her reason for moving her was to get clean (I'd heard she was addicted to crack, but she said that crystal meth was her big problem), and as far as I know she had been doing all right. One problem with people used to being fucked up all the time is that they have a hard time dealing with stress when they're sober, which is something I could tell Meghan was struggling with. She was nice enough to me, but she was rude to Tarsha when I wasn't around, which makes me angry. I was trying to be diplomatic about it, but if I'd known she was going to take off I would have been much more direct in dealing with the problem. Or maybe I'm just a pansy that doesn't like to deal with confrontation. Either/or.
Tarsha and I are putting forth a great amount of effort to visit her grandparents in Florida next month. We're cutting it pretty close, we want to leave in two weeks and we haven't got the airplane tickets yet, but I think we'll find a way to make it happen.
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[15 Nov 2005|07:38am] |
I heard from my aunt a few months ago that before the end of the year they were planning to clean up the downstairs of the house so someone could move in. Apparently my uncle's girlfriend's daughter, a thirty-something school teacher, needed somewhere to stay. This made me unhappy because I wanted to live downstairs, but I assumed my relatives would never bother to clean it up so I never bothered to ask.
Tarsha and I have since decided it's better to stay upstairs, as our need for the downstairs dishwasher has been minimized by using paper plates and plastic utensils all the time, but mostly because the downstairs shower isn't nearly big enough to fit two people at once. Still, I've been dreading the day when this interloper and her two dogs would move in. I've been encouraged by the fact that nothing has been touched downstairs, and I figured it would take at least two or three weeks to clear out all of the junk.
Last night my aunt and two uncles stopped by and let me know that the teacher would no longer be moving in. Before I had a chance to sigh in relief they told me that instead my cousin and her seven year-old daughter would be moving in. This is the cousin from Kansas City that I assumed was dead because the last I had heard she was a homeless crackhead.
I have no idea if this makes things better or worse, it just seems bizarre. My biggest fear is that my cousin will be a smoker (of tobacco, not crack) and stink up the whole house. I can't stand the smell, but Tarsha is allergic to cigarette smoke. I'd have to constantly whine about it until it stopped or we'd have to find some other place to live. I have no desire to move again unless it's out of the state, and we'll never find a place this big for this cheap (with a landlord that doesn't care if you go four months without paying because she's too busy to stop by for the money.)
In other news, why does ferret shit always have a pool of clear, viscous liquid around it? Do ferrets piss and shit at the same time out of the same hole? It's disconcerting.
In further news, Tarsha was lamenting last night that I don't have any friends because I have no one to tell about all the amazing sex we've been having.
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[01 Nov 2005|01:11pm] |
Last night Tarsha and I cleaned out her old apartment for good. I was feeling a lot of stress about whether we could do it before the end of the month, but we stayed up until four in the morning, on Halloween, no less, until it was empty and reasonably clean. I know I forgot to clean up the inside of the fridge, and there were some scratches on the floor Tarsha was worried about. If the landlord is a nitpicking bastard he might hold on to some of the security deposit, but I'd like to think we won't have to eat the whole thing.
Tarsha and I have known each other for three and a half months now, and we've been living together for... um... three of those months. It's not that I was desperate to have her move in as much as we had a difficult time pulling ourselves apart. She has drastically altered the landscape of my life for the better. She seems to think that I've made her much happier as well, despite the fact that I have essentially kidnapped her and isolated her an hour's drive away from all of her friends and the nearest Walmart.
Gary is now the proud owner of a human baby boy, Dustin.
He's probably the only person I've known who decided to wait until he had a stable relationship and income before having a child. I think he's better off for it, and he seems really happy about becoming a parent. It's something he's been looking forward to, and I am happy for him, but he has inadvertently convinced me that I do not ever want children of my own. I am grateful that Tarsha has no desire for children either. I'll take one vasectomy, please!
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[29 Aug 2005|10:31pm] |
You see, the plan was to put up a horribly photoshopped picture and claim it was of me and my girlfriend. You were supposed to laugh at me and question my sanity. Then I was going to post this real photo:
...but apparently my lousy photoshop skills are so amazing that everyone has been duped and the joke has been ruined. Thanks a lot!
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[29 Aug 2005|06:39pm] |
Here's a pic of me and Tarsha when we went hiking the other day. I am the luckiest guy in the world to have such an amazing girlfriend.
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[25 Aug 2005|02:38am] |
Tarsha is staying at a friend's house tonight, and I'm alone in the apartment for the first time in weeks. I can't sleep and I miss her terribly. How did I survive without her? Oh yeah, I was bitter and miserable all the time.
There hasn't been much to write about lately. Well, I can't recall a time in my life when I've been as happy for as long as I've been since I've met Tarsha, but who wants to read about that crap?
It's amazing how well we fit together. She thinks it's sweet instead of creepy that I am completely obsessed with her, and she seems to feel the same way about me. I've had a hard enough time finding other humans that don't smoke or drink who appreciate logic and honesty. I'm astounded I found one that is a pretty girl in her twenties who also thinks I'm cute.
Writing about how wonderful my girlfriend is while she's gone just makes me miss her even more. It's time to watch Overdrawn at the Memory Bank to cheer myself up.
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[01 Aug 2005|08:11am] |
I signed up on OKCupid a few months ago out of mild curiosity. I wasn't interested in meeting someone as much as I was curious to see if such a creature even existed that would be remotely compatable with me. Then about a month ago I happened to notice a girl that not only seemed fairly interesting, but also lived nearby. We went on a date and hit it off. Things were going better than I could have ever expected.
I've known Tarsha only two weeks at this point, but it's getting hard to imagine life without her. I've never met anyone in my life that I've felt more comfortable around, or that has made me happier than she has made me. The absurd thing is that she thinks she's the lucky one for having met me. I've been paranoid that at any moment I'm going to wake up, I'll be back in my old, miserable life, and this amazing person will dissipate from my memory forever. I've taken pictures just in case that does happen, so I'll have evidence that she was real.
I'm getting tired. I think I'll go to bed. Hopefully she'll still be in my arms when I wake up.
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[18 Jul 2005|07:30am] |
Yesterday I went on a date.
The first thing we tried was flying a kite. We had trouble putting it together because she had lost the instructions, and when we tried to fly it neither one of us could keep it in the air for much longer than a few seconds. Next we went for a hike. We went the wrong way down a dirt road, turned back until we found the trail, and when we finally got to the top we realized that we had still gone the wrong way. We could see the taller hill with the better view that we wanted to climb was the next hill over. Later in the day, I was wearing sneakers and she was wearing sandals, and I accidentally smashed her toenail. It started to bleed and she said that it was quite painful. The day was filled with miscalculation, accidents, and failure.
I had a wonderful time, and I can't wait until next Friday when I'll see her again.
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[12 Jul 2005|06:18pm] |
My nephew Alex, who I believe turned 11 a week ago, stopped by today. Even though he was being a brat, I still enjoyed seeing him. It's obvious that he's not used to honesty, because he never seemed to believe me when I said that he could or couldn't do something. Take this incident involving the air conditioner:
ALEX (playing with knobs and buttons)
CAN I TURN THIS ON?
KIP
NOPE, IT'S NOISY AND THERE'S NO REASON TO HAVE IT ON.
ALEX (continues playing with knobs and buttons)
HOW DO YOU TURN IT ON? I WANT IT ON!
I don't want to point fingers or anything, but his attitude may have something to do with my sister being a spineless compulsive liar. I'm sure he's used to having plenty of room to squirm when he hears declarative statements, but I didn't let that little punk push me around. Whenever he gets uppity I combat his impulsive whimsy with logic, and that usually does the trick.
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[04 Jul 2005|07:38pm] |
Things have been uneventful of late, which is fine by me.
I got a membership to the Y a month ago. I've been going there two or three times a week to shoot hoops by myself. Gary and I have been trying to go together, to keep ourselves motivated to exercise, but punctuality is not his strong suit, and I am an impatient jerk. Since the Y is only a mile away I just walk over instead of waiting for a ride from him.
I haven't spoken to anyone outside of work for a few weeks now. I don't mind being alone, but normally when this happens depression will start seeping in until it strangles my will to exist. These days, now that I spend a good portion of my time catering to the whiniest, most conceited cat on the planet, I think it has helped relieve some of the soul-crushing unhappiness.
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[21 Jun 2005|01:30pm] |
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I've noticed that over the course of a few months I've developed a number of pet names (pun possibly intended) for Nuveena, and I can't help but feel that I would resort to the same names if I were to find myself living with a significant other. Often I'll tack on "Babe" at the end of a sentence, such as "Are you hungry, babe?" "Nummy Muffin" also gets a lot of use, which I sometimes shorten to "Nummy", and on a few occasions "Muffin". Other terms of endearment that have worked their way into my lexicon are "Shut the Fuck Up" and "Are You Happy Now?" This morning I came up with another name I suspect I'll be using often, "Just Like a Woman." For example; "Well, you've ripped up your favorite toy and now you won't play with anything else. Are You Happy Now? You have destroyed the very thing that you loved the most. Just Like a Woman!"
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[20 Jun 2005|06:58am] |
There is an unopened package, about the size of a loaf of bread, sitting on my bureau. It is not for me. There is another person that lives in this town with the same name as me (not Kip Grey, but my real name), and I am certain this package is intended for this other person. First, I do not recognize who the sender is, second, the address contains another name next to mine that I do not recognize, and third, it was forwarded from my old address, which likely was taken from the phone book.
I have no desire to open the box, nor do I feel compelled to notify the intended owner. I was going to let Nuveena rip it up as she pleases, but she hasn't been too interested in it. Maybe I'll give it to Gary. I'm sure he would love to open up a mystery package. If he happens to read this before I see him, the anticipation of what might be inside will probably gnaw at his guts like a ravenous tapeworm.
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[09 Jun 2005|09:18pm] |
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I was recently in the bathroom brushing my teeth, as I am wont to do, when I heard Nuveena scurrying along to beg for attention. Just as she was about to jump on the toilet I realized that I had left the lid up, which I rarely do. She hopped up on the seat and started to skid, and with my amazing reflexes I caught her right before she took a dive. Now that I've had some time to think about it, I realize that having my cat almost slip into a toilet bowl is pretty dull, and perhaps I would have had a more exciting story to tell if I had let her fall into the water instead.
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| Dream |
[05 Jun 2005|04:43am] |
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Eating at some hole-in-the-wall restaurant, some bible-beating dipshit starts gushing about the american flag, and how we need to salute the people who are proud of their country, and fought for what they believed in. I suddenly noticed that everyone was standing and saluting the grungy flag in the corner except for me, and some people were staring at me. I thought about getting up, just to avoid causing a fuss, but I decided I really didn't care what these morons thought, so I didn't bother. After they sat down, I calmly and politely asked the bible-beater "What if what you believe in is that Americans are evil?" He wasn't sure how to reply to that, so I continued. "It takes a lot of resolve to do that." We both knew exactly what that was. He took a moment to think, and then started to say "Well... I would tell them that..." at which point I stopped listening. Clearly this person was more concerned about converting people to his point of view than listening to theirs, so his opinion was irrelevent to me.
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wreckfat's journal