(no subject)
...so we went to an alien planet. the first thing i noticed was a window with part of a stairwell behind it and a couple cats sleeping on carpeted stairs, cat towers, climbing boxes. i looked deeper and saw more cats, all shaggy-long haired and brindly, not as attractive as Edward and the Guffin. i pressed my face against the window and saw that the stairway reached up and down for as far as i could see, and there were cats and cats and cats sleeping on the stairs. i wanted to pet them, but i couldn't see how to get in. i asked and someone said there was no way. i could see a door, but i didn't know how to get to the door.
the problem with this world was that it was far too crowded. it was a huge building, with mezzanines and exposed beams and vast hallways with floors below floors and other rooms, not even including the floors and rooms you could get to if you could get into the cat stairwell, but all the space was packed with people. you had to squeeze through them to travel. this was part of the planet's economic strategy, but was inconvenient. I was there with Dana, he was the chief of police, a huge man like a Frank Miller character, and if it was strange that he had a woman's name i thought that he made the name stronger, more masculine, by wearing it. He gave it nuance. I was a twig-naked boy, skinny as a sparrow, and i was Batman, or maybe Spiderman, and i had a cartoon-red bowler with a blue hatband to prove it. Dana, he was my complement, my guardian, so he had a blue bowler with a red hatband and that, i noticed in a moment of sparkling synchronisity, was the color of Superman. He was my Superman. He was looking out for me. we talked to the king of the planet, corpulent and corrupt, and he threatened us in a lazy way, and we decided to leave. We made a plan and the king of the planet indulged us. Dana took a path to the left so he could finish some business, i was going to meet him on the rafters at the mezzanine. After we got back to our home planet, they made a bronze statue of us; Dana a chisel-veined bull of a man, his head thrust forward, his teeth bared in a grimace of defiance and strain, a tiny boy astride his shoulders; me riding his shoulders, almost as wide as i was tall; they made him so fierce and me so light because as i went up the mezzanine to meet him i was killed.
i was killed by a naked boy, soft and wanton, surrounded by older people who looked to him for sensual guidance like he was a tv show or the Marquis de Sade, his hair a chemical-crackling black cloud and his teeth sharp in ink-stained gums. He killed me for novelty and boredom.
also the other night i dreamed that i was working on a silver pendant, and when i set it down to attend to something else, Justin DeVine set the cabochon. He did the _worst possible job;_ not only was it not time to set the cabochon, since i hadn't soldered the bezel cup to the setting, let alone polished everything to the necessary finish, but he had somehow melted the bezel ribbon while burnishing it, so that it was wrinkled and magmatic the way overheated silver gets. it was sort of funny, just because it was so bizarre; Justin doesn't even work silver. What, i tried to ask him, could you possibly have been thinking when you decided to set this cab? but the entire situation was so absurd that i just stammered and laughed. the really funny thing was that i looked at the stone he set and it was an unusually striking dark purple oval pu'ua shell with bullseye ripples, exactly the stone i'd picked out to make a pendant with right before i'd gone to bed.
the problem with this world was that it was far too crowded. it was a huge building, with mezzanines and exposed beams and vast hallways with floors below floors and other rooms, not even including the floors and rooms you could get to if you could get into the cat stairwell, but all the space was packed with people. you had to squeeze through them to travel. this was part of the planet's economic strategy, but was inconvenient. I was there with Dana, he was the chief of police, a huge man like a Frank Miller character, and if it was strange that he had a woman's name i thought that he made the name stronger, more masculine, by wearing it. He gave it nuance. I was a twig-naked boy, skinny as a sparrow, and i was Batman, or maybe Spiderman, and i had a cartoon-red bowler with a blue hatband to prove it. Dana, he was my complement, my guardian, so he had a blue bowler with a red hatband and that, i noticed in a moment of sparkling synchronisity, was the color of Superman. He was my Superman. He was looking out for me. we talked to the king of the planet, corpulent and corrupt, and he threatened us in a lazy way, and we decided to leave. We made a plan and the king of the planet indulged us. Dana took a path to the left so he could finish some business, i was going to meet him on the rafters at the mezzanine. After we got back to our home planet, they made a bronze statue of us; Dana a chisel-veined bull of a man, his head thrust forward, his teeth bared in a grimace of defiance and strain, a tiny boy astride his shoulders; me riding his shoulders, almost as wide as i was tall; they made him so fierce and me so light because as i went up the mezzanine to meet him i was killed.
i was killed by a naked boy, soft and wanton, surrounded by older people who looked to him for sensual guidance like he was a tv show or the Marquis de Sade, his hair a chemical-crackling black cloud and his teeth sharp in ink-stained gums. He killed me for novelty and boredom.
also the other night i dreamed that i was working on a silver pendant, and when i set it down to attend to something else, Justin DeVine set the cabochon. He did the _worst possible job;_ not only was it not time to set the cabochon, since i hadn't soldered the bezel cup to the setting, let alone polished everything to the necessary finish, but he had somehow melted the bezel ribbon while burnishing it, so that it was wrinkled and magmatic the way overheated silver gets. it was sort of funny, just because it was so bizarre; Justin doesn't even work silver. What, i tried to ask him, could you possibly have been thinking when you decided to set this cab? but the entire situation was so absurd that i just stammered and laughed. the really funny thing was that i looked at the stone he set and it was an unusually striking dark purple oval pu'ua shell with bullseye ripples, exactly the stone i'd picked out to make a pendant with right before i'd gone to bed.