Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋

Demon's, Diamonds, and Love-Arms

I hope you had a lot of fun

Sleeping now

I love you very much sweetheart 💋

Ok

I guess now I sleep in short blocks

I'm going to start another one now

I hope

You are having

a wonderful adventure

which still manages

to be comfortable and safe

I love you very much sweetheart 💋

At this point it's going to be a nap

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very 💋

 i love you sweetheart

i'm gonna sleep now

did not go to studio

allergies

headache

rained hard

did not do anything else productive

There is going to be more

I just have a bunch of different ideas and I'm not sure what I'm doing next

Plus I ended up sleeping later than I plan to

And then I went down several rabbit holes

I need to go to sleep now

I am going to the studio tomorrow

I love you very much sweetheart💋

Gonna sleep a little

I love you very much sweetheart 💋

working title: each frame has its own reality / 4

 The ice bath had a magnetic repulsion force.

"Hold still," said the face pouring icy water over her with a long empty plastic ragu jar.

She did not hold still.  She shivered and flopped around.

"Hold still!"

"Yeah, give the girl a break, she's trying to bring your fever down," the man in the suit smiled down at her from above.

"How are you floating above me now?" she asked confused.

"What are you talking about," asked the face "I'm the opposite of floating, I'm trying to weigh you down."

"I'm not floating, I'm a holographic projection, but only you can see me, so try to be a little more low key will you."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to hold still," wailed the face.

"I want to go over the agent files with you and discuss the next phase, but what I seem to be doing is some sort of psych op.  When do you think you'll have it pulled together enough to continue?"

"What are you talking about?!"

"You are running a really high fever.  I'm trying to get your body temperature down."

"Better let her do that, huh," smiled the floating man in the suit before winking out of existence.  

working title: each frame has its own reality / 3

"For now let's not worry about who I am, please, finish your story."

"What makes you think I wasn't finished?"

"You set up a dichotomy at the beginning."

"Yeah, fair enough," she mused "new school, old school."

"Please continue..."

"Ok.  So we moved from an apartment to a rental house and that meant changing schools mid-semester.  The "new school" was an older building without the multi-use rooms or anything interactive, old and boring and like standard nothing nice, but the school yard was amazing.  At that school, I lived to be outside with the old trees, the playground, the view of the decorative candy store window changing displays across the street."

"They dropped me off in one of the rooms after asking the teacher briefly if she had room for one more and then she promptly seemed to forget all about me.  Apparently the other students had some sort of reading plans, I never got one, and though I can't imagine who else she thought was going to give me one, she was surprised. Maybe she thought they had moved me from another room rather than another school.  Finally she decided that it was too far into the year to be bothering with that and I should just read whatever I wanted to read, but all that was available was a bunch of old fun with dick and jane books.  I didn't really know how to read yet, not really, or I didn't think so, but I did manage to learn to read the fun with dick and jane books.  1973."

"The one bit of instruction that I do remember getting from the teacher was a bit of her life philosophy which she thought she would give us to live our lives by.  It was called ME-3.  This, she had said, was a guideline that we should use to make any and all decisions throughout our lives.  1 - God.  2 - Family.   3 - Me.  That should be our order of priority."

"So as a child then, how do you make decisions where God is your top priority?"

"Man, I have no idea, but ME-3 is a catchy name for a life philosophy."

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋

working title: each frame has its own reality / 2

"What are you doing out of bed?" the face seemed surprised.

"You told me to get up and make my own soup..." she trailed off in confusion.

"Ok, well, that makes no sense at all," she said reaching up to feel her forehead "is it possible you're delirious?"

Thinking about the man in the window "yes, I'd say it's completely possible."

The face dragged her back to bed.

The bed resumed its gravitational force.  She looked at the topography of the ceiling.  Was that right?  Or was it like the tile in the kitchen?  She wasn't sure.  Not sure, she mused, uncertainty principle, alternative facts, divergent consensus realities.

"When I was in the first grade", she said to no one, she was alone in the room, "I went to a very new school for a few months, but by the end of the first semester I was at a different much older school.  The new school didn't have any plants or landscaping yet so whenever we were outside we would sit on our tin lunch boxes vaguely huddled together and long for the inside.  The school was pretty progressive for public elementary, so once we were inside we moved rooms in a big open area rotating between whatever the subjects were.  I don't really remember what they called them.  I remember there were three teachers and three areas.  One would make us do the go you chicken fat exercise, and then have us sit in a circle for lessons.  I don't remember the lessons.  I remember she had long blonde hair that she twisted around several fingers in some sort of perpetual nervous weaving tick that left me mesmerized, infected, bound to replicate it once I had left the school."

"The other teachers I have no recollection of them, but I do remember math class.  Math class was in the right back quadrant of the room.  It was new math, all number lines and greater than and less that.  I particularly liked that part.  The visual aids were alligators.  I remember my mother coming to some open house event, asking about the alligators.  Math is my favorite subject, I had said, I will tell you about the alligators."

"If an alligator is going to eat people, he would rather eat more people so the shape of his open mouth, see, is the shape of greater than, see, eat more people!  My mother, with her math degree, was completely flummoxed."

 "After all the excitement of the group learning room, and I'm sure there was lunch somewhere in there, there were separate rooms we went to for homeroom.  In homeroom we put our heads down and were quiet, and the lights were out.  At least that was what happened on the day I can remember."

"We had raggedy-ann and andy dolls as passes for the restroom.  If the doll was there you could take it and go, but if it wasn't there you had to wait.  This particular day, I had to go.  The doll was gone.  I waited, and waited, and waited until I couldn't wait any more.  Then I went up to the teacher and explained that I had to go.  She indicated that I had to wait.  I indicated that I had been waiting and I had to go.  But apparently not as desperately as I was supposed to--  I was later told.  You have to wait.  Ok.  I went back to my seat.  I waited.  Then, I didn't wait.  Some of the urine absorbed into my clothes and some of it ran down onto the dark dense short carpet and disappeared.  Well that worked out fine I thought and nodded off in relief."

"Subsequently the teacher discovered that one of the girls had taken the doll back to her seat, or left it in the restroom, or something, but at any rate I was now cleared to go.  Don't need to anymore, I answered without any emotion whatsoever."

"And did you not feel embarrassed?" the man in the suit asked.

"No.  It never occurred to me to feel embarrassed."

"Really?!" he asked, the total disbelief showing on his face.

"The teacher must have thought I would be embarrassed too, she asked me if I wanted her to call my mother to bring me some clean clothes.  Then I got a little scared.  No please don't call her I said.  I could not imagine the screaming that would come from being called to the school, bothered in her day that my step-mother would have unleashed upon me.  Besides, my clothes were basically dry by then, what was the big deal.  Perhaps I reeked, but I had no awareness of it."

"Did you not have a sense that big girls don't pee their pants?" he was taking notes in a small notebook.

"Well, sure, but I was doing what I was told.  I was used to rules being rather arbitrary, non-sensical, and detrimental to me, so it didn't seem worthy of note, really.  Then, I had a problem, and I delt with it in a covert non-problem-causing way, as far as I was concerned.  It never occurred to me that the carpet might need special cleaning, or that there might be any additional consequences.  The carpet under the desk looked fine, my clothes were not visibly wet.  I'm pretty sure none of the other kids were aware.  As far as I was concerned it was a non-issue."

"Fascinating."

"Glad you think so," she answered flatly "now who are you exactly?"

Just then the face popped in the door, "who are you talking to?"

"This guy," she said "right here, I don't know who he is."

"I think you really must be delirious.  Hang tight, I'll be back to take your temperature."

 

goodnight sweetheart

i love you very much <3

more tomorrow

working title: each frame has it's own reality

 The bed seemed to have a gravitational force.  She stared at the ceiling.  Escape velocity, she mused.

A face peeked in the door.  "Can i get you anything?"

"Oh, if you could heat me up a can of soup", she couldn't quite finish the thought.

"Sure thing," and the face disappeared.

She nodded off.  She woke up.  She stared at the ceiling.  Drifting, she mused.

The face reappeared.  "You're going to have to come make it yourself, I'm too busy."  Gone again.

Maybe it was the force of the injustice of it that gave her the strength, "it is not as if I rang some bell and demanded service" she muttered loudly, shuffling her way to the kitchen.  

The face, now with it's back to her, was a contained cascade of curling dark hair.  She shrugged and found some tetra pack soup so she wouldn't have to fail the can opener test, heated the soup to just above tepid, poured it in a mug, and gulped it down as quickly as she could.  Still upright, she mused with pride, just as the face whipped past her in a frenzy of activity she couldn't process almost knocking her down.  "I gotta get out of here," she thought, and then reflexively "do you need my help with anything?"

"Oh, that would be amazing.  See those sticks of butter on the counter?  Please cut them all into butter pats and put them into those bowls of ice water."

She blinked in disbelief.  I'm visibly barely able to stand and I'm probably contagious I can't believe she took me up on that offer.  See what being polite gets you.  Or else the situation is pretty dire.  Butter, she mused.  This must be some sort of special butter because it was big.  Maybe it was a compound butter remolded or maybe it was made from scratch to begin with, either way she was not asking questions.

She started cutting the butter into quarter inch thick pats and putting it into ice water baths.  There was really not enough counter space for this kind of prep work.  Catering, she mused.  And speaking of the counter situation, these were weird counters.  They were tile.  With grout.  And they were aqua-teal green.  Just like the house she'd lived in when she was eleven.  She turned slowly to look at things.  The weird cabinets hanging from the ceiling, no wall behind them, blocking the sink area from the breakfast nook crowded by the window air conditioner.  Huh.  Her eyes ran from the end of the cabinet, partially open and containing file folders of some sort, to the open window over the sink.

A man in a suit was standing outside face in the window.  "Do you have the agent's files ready?" he asked, somewhat impatiently she thought.

Wait,

what?!

 life

each frame has its own reality

 i'm tryin to make all that be a story

hopefully i'll have something for you to read by tomorrow

maybe somethin tonight

please be as careful as you can

i love you sweetheart

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋

And I'm up super late again

So tonight I'm listening to something else again

I'm listening to Amrita by banana yoshimoto

I'm not sure why I just have heard a lot of people say that her writing is very beautiful

And the memory police was kind of both more and less than what I was really wanting

And although infinite just was good

And I was enjoying it

That isn't really what I want to be reading right now

I really wanted Japanese literature

And this promise to have kind of a mystery in it so although it isn't a mystery novel I thought I'd give it a try

I've noticed lately that I have these locations in my head from my childhood

I went to this elementary school I went to one elementary school for kindergarten and I went to two elementary schools for first grade but then I went to the same elementary school for 2nd through 4th

And at the school

I guess kindergarten first and second were kind of in one wing and third fourth and fifth were another wing

And there was this one place where the wing were third fourth and fifth joined up with the like the main hallway where the lunch room and the office and all that stuff were You went out one door and then across a little covered but not enclosed I don't know like I don't know exactly what to call it vestibule was the word that comes to mind but that isn't quite right I keep seeing that area like where I'm walking out of one part of the school before I walk into the other part of the school and I can't recall anything particularly remarkable happening there but I've noticed that I keep seeing that area

And I was seeing it a while back whenever I would be reading about skin care on what's the name of that site oh it doesn't matter

But I haven't been on that site

And that was a site for Korean skincare now I'm reading Japanese books there's not really any connection between those things and there's not really any connection between this particular part of the school and either one of those things so I don't understand why I keep seeing it

I've also been seeing the bathroom at the school where I went for a ninth grade it was a kind of a little rich girl Catholic school where I felt very out of place but for some reason I really liked the bathroom I guess or felt some sort of affinity for it somehow it's really dark

And I've been wanting to write this week

And I have some concepts

And I was so excited about the room with the hallucinogenic plants and the bees and the floating and whatnot because somehow I thought that was going to be the center of a short story when I was kind of coming out of sleep it seemed very clearly like that was integral to a story

But then when I got all the way awake and I was telling you about it I'm like how is that a story

But one of my concepts was the air being like thick like a jello mold or whatever you call that French thing that is essentially a jello mold but with meat but more like those jello salads that they had at the cafeteria that they look so colorful and like they'd be delicious but they're gross but not that the air is gross so even that's kind of hazy but the idea of waking up and trying to judge the thickness of the air and then going into the bathroom and I like the sunlight

Like a lot of apartment bathrooms the window has been sprayed with something so that it's not see-through but when the light comes through it very brightly it's filtered in this great way and I sit there and I close my eyes and I feel the sun but it's like removed and removed you know and I love that

And I have this idea about

It's a kind of a compartmentalization of experience like every moment is a frame and that frame is a room it's a different state of consciousness and that sounds crazy but that's kind of how I experience things

Well that's one of the ways That's when I'm in the moment which is the pleasant experience

And then there's the part where at all ties together which is the anxiety and the need for things to be something or add up to something which is distressing it's just distressing it's

Not like you know if you've got a plan and you're going to do something that's not quite the same thing but the idea that there are things that are going to happen and they're not going to be completely within your control and everything moving along there's something about that continual motion through time that's unpleasant

And I've just kind of come to the realization when I decided I was writing the story that somehow that's important and important aspect of my experience

But then I always have these sort of dream places that I go and fantasy places that are not actually in dreams but they're like daydreaming places

and I guess there are things where I'm doing and I experience flow and I'm not experiencing myself as a not experiencing myself at all I guess I'm experiencing the thing that I'm doing and that's not the same thing but if I'm not doing something where I'm doing it and not having an experience of myself then I'm either in one of those states or I'm having anxiety

That's what I'm thinking is that true probably it's not completely true but it's somewhat true and it's a fairly new realization

So I guess I'm kind of wanting to construct this story around the idea that there are places dream places and not quite real places surreal or fantasy magic realism places

But the first thought about the story was the idea hadn't quite derived around these squares yet it was about the thickness of the air and moments in which it wasn't that gelatinous texture moments when it was light and free movementy and then I was in that dream room and I was floating but it wasn't like thick like I was floating in water it was light

So I guess that I thought that that somehow tied in with my story and I got very excited

This isn't really the way I've written stories before largely when I've written stories before what I've said is you know what are you trying to say and then I kind of build a metaphor around what I'm trying to say so that I'm telling a story but I'm also telling a story and I thought that was fairly successful although I realized that I have a tendency to end them in a way that a lot of people would think was open-ended and not complete but they seemed complete to me

And then I have continually running this idea of shamanism

But I have to kind of morph it into something else

Or else it's inappropriate and appropriationy

And I'm wanting it to be a mystery

I had this idea

It was a novel though but it was an idea

The main character was living in Chicago

Channel these places she went and things that she did but it all kept coming back around to something that didn't make sense to her

She would get these little bits of kind of psychic information that she couldn't identify couldn't understand

And then one day she's in this bar or whatever and she's talking to someone and they mention Everett Reuss

And she goes in somehow discovers the secret the mystery of what happened to Everett Reuss

But I had a lot of problems

I wasn't sure how it was going to work out

But that was my idea

In general I don't think it was as good of an idea as the one about the spirit guides

Anyway I feel like I felt you several times tonight

Goodnight sweetheart I love you very much 💋