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2001-12-18 / 3:31 p.m. ~Omelet Clothes, and Yesterday~ The following is what I wrote yesterday afternoon at work: �Somewhere, amidst all the dreams I dreamed last night, was a dream in which I heard Jeff Buckley on the radio. I think I was in a dressing room, like in a store, trying on clothes, or with someone else who was trying on clothes, I don�t know, but there was a radio, or Muzak, and I heard Jeff Buckley, �Listen, it�s Jeff Buckley!���Who�s Jeff Buckley?�. I�m at work, on my break, at my cube, listening to my Walkman, to Jeff Buckley. I have a big headache. I think I got it about the time the electricity surged and the surge protectors all started their incessant and cyclical beeping, from cube to cube to cube, piercing alarms, and some said they didn�t hear a thing. The receptionist announced flat tires on two cars in the back parking lot, announcing over the P.A. system. In another dream I was back at my old house, the house I dream about, the house I lived in when I was a teenager. In the dream I was looking out the window � someone was mowing the lawn and I was thinking, oh, okay, I have to hire someone to mow the lawn now, he�s going to want money, I have to pay him to do this. But he�s out there doing it, now. I�m overwhelmed by the desire to be horizontal. I feel outrageously irritable, every little noise is making me want to scream, and it�s too warm. Everyone shouts, from cube to cube, shouting about their new cell phones, their wireless plans, and it�s too warm, and everything is too much. I just want to go lie down. Why? There are some guys working on the breaker box, just on the other side of my cubicle. My Walkman has been off for the past 20 minutes, my break ended seemingly as soon as it began. My fan is turned on, a little desk fan, aimed at me, and it�s too loud, like everything. I pulled my hair up, off my neck, and the fan blowing on me makes my ears cold. Lately, the idea of sex is repulsive to me. I can�t stand to see actors kissing in movies, or on �Guiding Light� (where it is particularly phony and unpleasant), even at the hockey game, on the Jumbotron when couples kissed for the crowd. Disgusting, ew! Penelope has a really loud cough. It comes every so often, this COUGH!!!, and I cringe, I can�t hear the person I�m on the phone with, can�t hear myself think, can�t hear a thing, for a brief moment, then it comes again, when I least expect it, COUGH!!!, and I know she doesn�t mean any harm, can�t control it, it�s part of my sensitivity to sound, today, now. So, I was watching a bit of �Titanic� on NBC last night, the first half, the good half, not that the last half is bad, but it�s hard watching all those people die. When I saw it in the theatre it was hard to watch, it was so real. But the part where Kate Winslett is falling in love with Leo Di Caprio, and he is so charming, his character, the way he pursues her, the way he is so worldly, yet not cynical, not bitter, still childlike and open, trusting and hopeful, filled with love. The chemistry between Kate and Leo was so real�when they paused to look each other right in the eyes, like they were looking inside one another, it was�what can I say besides �real�? Accurate? True? When they finally have sex, in the back of that car in the cargo hold, and he is on top of her, I imagine he is inside of her, and she looks at him with that look, and he back at her, I know what that is, I felt it as I watched. I could remember being in that same position, a man atop me, his penis inside of me, feeling that feeling of being connected in a way unlike any other. But with them it was love, and with me it�s been the illusion of love.� That�s it. I wasn�t happy with what I wrote. Didn�t even get online last night. No interest. I�m at work once again, the Walkman on, it�s Moby, and it�s perfect, perfectly evocative of a mood, reminds me of me on the van on the way back from D.C., of longing. I did watch the death half of �Titanic� last night, and it was oddly compelling, watching all those people fall to their deaths, all those people knowing they were going to die. I mean, I know it was just a movie, but it�s such a good movie because it can make one forget one is watching a movie, it all seems so real, one can get lost in it. And I did. Last night I felt totally exhausted, and really, there is no reason for it that I can think of. Today, as well, I woke up tired. I had too much to dream. The dreams have been very active lately. It�s almost like I�m going to sleep just to be in this other world, and maybe, who�s to say?, it�s the real world, and this is but a dream� I wrote this last night, on PAPER, yeah, remember paper?: �She�s wearing stripes and plaid flannel. Drinking a Mexican lime soda to swallow a handful of vitamins after a bowl of potato chips and a frozen dinner. Watching �Beau Travail� instead of changing channels because she loves how quiet it is, how it�s all about men, French men, and when someone speaks it is in French. She�s dreaming of living in a foreign land, or at least traveling, while she watches the men of the French Foreign Legion iron their clothes in the sun.� I didn�t watch the whole movie. But it was beautiful, in a pensive, homoerotic sort of way. I switched to �Ellen� because of the hype about Mary Tyler Moore, Cloris Leachman and Ed Asner all being together again. Mary looks old, and she is really thin. Any time someone is skinnier than I am I think she is REALLY skinny. And Mary is REALLY skinny. I want to share this music, Moby, with him. Temptation is really great. And he wants to share some music with me. We have this in common. I feel at times that we could be something, but what, I don�t know. There was a �brunch� provided by the landlord of the office complex today, and it went from 9-11:00, not �brunch� hours, breakfast hours. We had to go on breaks, sacrifice breaks to walk over to the appropriate building, but we heard it was omelets, and fruit, and pastries, so she let us go, D., the supervisor, two and three at a time. I went with D., and Lulu, and we walked � Lulu ran part of the way, once we heard they were running out of food. It was good, and we stood in line for it, omelets to order, skillet potatoes, pastries, apple juice. Then we came back, excited, ready to eat, we�d gotten the food to go, and found out we had to clock out for the �brunch�. Go clock out, she said, for 20 minutes. I said, �See, there�s no free �brunch��. So, it cost us all about $4 or so. Now I keep smelling it, like I�m there watching that woman with her two saute pans, and her hot plates, like I�m still in line. I think it�s on my clothes. I have omelet clothes. Cost of the War in Iraq
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