movin' on up...
I just moved to a faaaaaabulous loft downtown, brand new and sexy and gorgeous. They sucked me in with the silver kitchen. Silver. In case you didn't know, I love silver about as much as I love pink. Since pink isn't appropriate for everything, some things I prefer in silver. Like my motor vehicles (ok, only because it's cheaper to buy the silver one than get one painted pink, but i digress) and of course kitchen appliances and cabinets are much better in silver than pink. So as soon as it's photo-ready, pix will be posted.
So glad I'm enjoying interesting dreams again. Last night I dreamt I was pimping out my brother Gary on some reality dating show back when he was single. For their first meeting, I made him ride up to the chick on his bike, because everyone loves a man on a Ducati. Then I was squeezing through this antique market I've been to in other dreams, in some unknown city. Felt like NYC when I passed Andre Léon Talley (with straight, white hair now!) and thought of him as a visitor. He lives in Paris in the real world, creative director for Paris Vogue. Then the space cleared out and that was nice. I remember being unimpressed with what was for sale, though.
Later, I met Mika Kallio, and he was Dominique Aegerter's new teammate for Moto2. I congratulated him, and told my friend how I knew Dominique. Also, I lived in or was staying in some rambling, massive stitched-together duplex with rooms upon rooms, all partially inhabited. It was one of those old houses they turn into apartments in LA. The real kitchen had fallen into disuse and water shot up out of the hole where the faucet had been, but only if I tried to make the garbage disposal stop. Meanwhile, the owner had set up a makeshift kitchen near a couple of half bathrooms, as I discovered in my quest for a sink to rinse something out. The banquette featured an old black leatherette barca-lounger. Comfortable, I'm sure, but very strange. I'd parked my car down by the railroad tracks, and when I went to get it the next morning, it'd been stripped. Not so much stripped, as completely thrashed by some lunatic. All slashed up and broken up and things destroyed. The police said it was probably someone on drugs. you think? that part was just a manifestation of the anxiety around finding a dirt-cheap yet safe off-street place to stash the damn thing. If I pay $100/month to park it, I may as well sell it, put the money in a savings account and rent the 1-2 times/month I actually use a car...
So glad I'm enjoying interesting dreams again. Last night I dreamt I was pimping out my brother Gary on some reality dating show back when he was single. For their first meeting, I made him ride up to the chick on his bike, because everyone loves a man on a Ducati. Then I was squeezing through this antique market I've been to in other dreams, in some unknown city. Felt like NYC when I passed Andre Léon Talley (with straight, white hair now!) and thought of him as a visitor. He lives in Paris in the real world, creative director for Paris Vogue. Then the space cleared out and that was nice. I remember being unimpressed with what was for sale, though.
Later, I met Mika Kallio, and he was Dominique Aegerter's new teammate for Moto2. I congratulated him, and told my friend how I knew Dominique. Also, I lived in or was staying in some rambling, massive stitched-together duplex with rooms upon rooms, all partially inhabited. It was one of those old houses they turn into apartments in LA. The real kitchen had fallen into disuse and water shot up out of the hole where the faucet had been, but only if I tried to make the garbage disposal stop. Meanwhile, the owner had set up a makeshift kitchen near a couple of half bathrooms, as I discovered in my quest for a sink to rinse something out. The banquette featured an old black leatherette barca-lounger. Comfortable, I'm sure, but very strange. I'd parked my car down by the railroad tracks, and when I went to get it the next morning, it'd been stripped. Not so much stripped, as completely thrashed by some lunatic. All slashed up and broken up and things destroyed. The police said it was probably someone on drugs. you think? that part was just a manifestation of the anxiety around finding a dirt-cheap yet safe off-street place to stash the damn thing. If I pay $100/month to park it, I may as well sell it, put the money in a savings account and rent the 1-2 times/month I actually use a car...