Saturday, November 29, 2003

18/9/03 dream

Timothy and I are moving out of an apartment once again. We have everything packed and find out that our ride is not available, so we unpack again. Suddenly it is the next day, our ride is there, and we are not packed. Irritation. Then, we are in some kind of flying tourist attraction, soaring over the Columbia River. I am afraid to look out. Timothy is going to jump out and fly in a flying glider contraption. I try to talk him out of it, to no avail. I have a baby, and it dies.

Monday, October 27, 2003

Writing 121

I am alone.
Most people would consider me homeless, but I would not consider myself as such, per se. You see, the Earth is my home, and wherever I go, there I am. So I am at home everywhere I go. I have been to cities and towns all over the United States of America, and Canada. I do not have the inclination to go to Mexico, it’s too sunny, although I would love to head over to Europe and am saving my dough for the airline ticket. I like to stay in a city until it becomes familiar, then I move on. I love the disconcerting experience of being in a new place, surrounded by fresh scenery and strange accents. The bigger the city, the more areas there are to explore, the longer I stay.

I originally come from a small town near Portland, Oregon, called St. Helens. This town has railroad tracks running right through the center of it. My friends and I every so often would meet a vagrant, a rail rider, who would stop off in our little town for a day or two while passing through to bigger, more opportune cities. During prime mushroom season, early autumn of my seventeenth year of life, I was at a friend’s apartment. We had been smoking pot and hanging out, typical small town teenage entertainment, when another pal came a-knocking on her door. He had with him a threadbare vagrant of a grandfatherly sort, fresh off the trains, and they had recently been magic mushroom hunting. They brought their bounty into the kitchen, and my friend’s mother made us some magic mushroom tea. I have never had an affinity for mushrooms. I choked down as much of it as I could, but it was, quite frankly, nasty. It didn’t get me high either. We all stayed up late into the night hanging out and making art. Gramps told us he would be hopping a train to Seattle the next day, and he invited any of us to join him. I decided that night to embark on an adventure, just for the thrill of the experience. I snuck home in the wee early morning hours, packed my backpack full of clothes, grabbed my violin in its case, put my cat, Purrsia, on a leash, and left my mom a note. I pointed out that I was almost 18 and told her I was going on a journey to find myself. I said I would call her in a week to let her know I was okay and have some kind of plan. With my bank card in my wallet and twenty dollars in my sock, I headed north.

We spent a few weeks in Seattle. Gramps had a nephew, Bill, who lived in a small town just outside Seattle, and I was able to shower at his house on a weekly basis. Just after my weekly scrubbing during our 3rd week in Seattle, I opened the back door to step onto the porch and smoke a cigarette. Sparkling under a layer of rain ignited by sunshine, an old 5 speed bicycle tilted it’s handlebars to me in a solemn salute. A bicycle! What a perfect idea. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? The glass porch door slid open and Bill walked out. I told him it was a beautiful bike, and he said it had belonged to his deceased wife. She told him once that if anything happened to her to make sure it went to someone who would appreciate it. I asked him what he wanted for it, and he said that the first day we met I had somehow reminded him of the bike. He told me I could have it for the pleasure it brought him to give it to me, and if the opportunity ever arose to pass it to another who will appreciate it, to do so. Of course, I promised him that I would.

Suddenly Seattle seemed much smaller. In another week I told Gramps I would be heading down to San Francisco. He gave me a switchblade and some marijuana, and advised me to be careful, suggesting I get a dog. I found some baskets and a little trailer for my bicycle. Purrsia discovered the basket on the front of the bike was just the right size to curl up in, and I had plenty of room in the trailer for my few belongings. I bought a little two man tent, a pot, a mug, a spoon, some oatmeal and soup, covered it all with tarps, and went in search of a dog.

At the third pound, I found who I was looking for. A medium sized, young adult solid black male of mixed breeding. He appeared to me as a cross between a wolf and a blue heeler. His ears were as soft as rabbit fur and were two quizzical triangles standing straight up as he cocked his head and looked me in the eye. I was smitten. He looked to be about a year old and was already neutered. I knelt down and he came up to me, friendly, and without any fear. I scratched his back and he sidled up into my arms, licking my face. He left the pound with a green harness and leash, and a new name - Stalker.

My pets and I have been traveling from city to city since then. I bike when I can but sometimes it is more realistic to bus, or, if I do particularly well in a city, go by train. I try to stick with cities of temperate weather as biking in the heat can get very sticky, and if you don’t know where your next shower is coming from, you do better to avoid stickiness. My favorite places to bathe are county fairgrounds. Usually when I get to a city I find the nearest fairgrounds and check out their equestrian facilities. There is often a bathroom with a shower, and the bathrooms are sometimes heated in the winter. The best part is the privacy! Most of the time these bathrooms are empty. If I cannot find adequate bathing facilities at a fairground or campground I will visit a mission with this purpose. I generally try to avoid visiting these types of places as they can be very dangerous. So many vagrants looking out only for their number one can lead to rough situations. Usually when I reach a city, I will locate all of the missions and other homeless gathering places, and check them out. I like to see what kind of facilities are available should the need arise. I also like to schmooze the homeless crowds, to get information and current news about the city I am in, and to get a connection for drugs. In general though, I prefer to be alone with my thoughts and my mammal friends.

The city I am in today is called Vancouver, located in British Columbia, Canada. It is early autumn, the air is cool and the leaves have started to turn. I‘ve been here for 3 weeks, spending my nights in Stanley Park and exploring the city during the day. When I want to make a few bucks, I head into high population density areas and pull out my violin. Trendy streets lined with restaurants often yield a decent wage to a passionate violinist. I love to play my violin, and I think I communicate it well to my audience. When the bow slides over the strings, the feeling sends a shiver down my spine. I usually play for the lunch crowds, out entertaining themselves by spending money in the hip little shops and boutiques sandwiched between the restaurants. I look forward to the Christmas season in another five weeks, when consumerism runs rampant leaving everyone in a jovial mood. I usually make a killing on the good humor of these happy spenders, and repay them by playing every Christmas carol I know.

I use drugs judiciously. I believe that anything used in moderation can have a positive, rather than negative impact on a person’s psyche. I stay away from “dirty” drugs, like crystal meth and crank. Marijuana is my drug of choice, but often when I reach a city I like to take some acid before I explore it. Being in completely unfamiliar surroundings intensifies the strangeness of the trip. I have used other synthetic drugs – heroin, ketamine, ecstasy – but I reserve alcohol for those cold winter nights when I have only my sleeping bag and my pets for warmth. I don’t drink to get drunk because usually when that happens I end up feeling like hell for up to a day after. That makes bicycle transport much more unpleasant and as such, reduces my mobility. I do not smoke cigarettes for the same reason (that, and because it is not very intelligent to pay a corporation for your own death), and I do not struggle with addiction to one single drug.

I suppose if I am addicted to anything it is to my freedom. I am the mistress of my situation, the cause and effect, and I am my own way into and out of every position. I do not have any responsibilities other than my pets and myself, and this affords me an unparalleled sense of liberty.
Dream Your Own Twin Peaks Adventure! its not dated, but is from spring/summer of 2003

ill start off from where I remember the dream from, since starting from anytime before that is just impossible.

So, Tim and I are walking and scooting around Portland neighborhoods. I’m not wearing my scooter helmet, I am wearing my horse riding helmet. We come upon a miniature horse stud, tied near the sidewalk. We stop and I pet him. He's adorable, dark chocolate brown with some white overo markings. His owner, some younger man, comes out and starts bitching that we are going to give his little stud some disease by petting him. I pointed out that if he doesn’t want people stopping and petting the little horse, he shouldn’t tie him on the sidewalk, and we leave.

We come up to a white house with the front door set below the sidewalk so that you have to go down 5 stairs to reach it. On either side of the stairs, thick vegetation darkens and quiets the light and noise from the street, so it is like walking into another world. There are white columns at either side of the entrance, which creates a sort of covered porch area, overgrown with thick wisteria bushes, and the door itself is made of oak and glass, with full length windows on either side. We rush down the stairs and peek in - there is some kind of an entrance hall made of white marble, with a curved white marble staircase set back about 10 feet from the door. Inside there is a man (who turns and looks at us) talking to 3 adults and 1 child. I want to sing and listen to my voice echo through the marble halls. I reach for the door handle, realize I’m about to walk into someone’s home without permission, and turn away.

We keep wandering the city until we go into our home to go to bed. I wake up and am hot, so go into the bathroom and run a cold shower. As the cold water rushes over my overheated body, I hear someone come in. I open the shower curtain and my ex boyfriend’s mom, Karen, is standing there. She asks why I am taking a shower at 2 in the morning. I explain. She leaves.

Suddenly, Tim and I are in Vancouver, BC, with Audrey Horn (of Twin Peaks). Her father Ben Horn is after us - he wants to kill us because he had picked out some music that he wanted Audrey to sing to, and she hated it so brought it to timothy, who mastered it. Mr. Horn catches Audrey and I. I am trying to plot our escape, without Audrey’s help, when in comes Mr. Horn demanding to know where to find Timothy. He plays the two cd's he has, and asks what the difference is. Audrey points out that one is mastered, and Ben says "A-HA!! TO THE STUDIO!! WE WILL FIND HIM THERE!" I’m going “shit shit shit we gotta get outta here and save Timothy, Audrey why the fuck did you blab!!! “ we manage a daring escape out the window and we are running through downtown Vancouver to get to Tim’s studio and warn him before Mr. Horn gets there.

Unfortunately, we all arrive at the same time and are caught again. We are taken back to Ben Horns building, Timothy with us this time. Audrey and I are once again plotting to escape while Timothy is being interrogated. When the "guard" brings timothy back into the room with us, we surprise him, hit him over the head, and make a run for it. As we are running through downtown again, making many left and right turns, trying to ditch our pursuers, Karen hands Timothy a post it note with instructions on where to go. She will help us escape. He sticks it in his pocket, and, thinking we had lost our pursuers, we slow to a walk. Suddenly we see them behind us, and we jump behind some bushes to hide, but they had spotted us and quickly caught us. They take us back to the building.

The next time we have an opportunity to escape, we are all alone with Mr. Horn, and Audrey hits him in the head repeatedly with a shovel, like the truly faithful daughter she is. "I think he’s dead" she said. "I hated him anyways. Prick." We are once again running, knowing that now we have killed the boss man, they will be even more desperate to find us. Timothy looks at the post it note which Karen gave him last time we escaped. we have one day to get on some kind of ferry, which will take us to another country, where we will then find our way to the meeting place and she will get us out of there.

As we are riding on the ferry, an announcement is made to "keep an eye out for a young Englishman," (we are on a boat full of Irishmen), "in his mid twenties." This is Timothy. Timothy didn’t hear this announcement, although I did, and set out to find him to warn him to stay in hiding. Timothy is in a dark recreation room lit only by lamps in the corners, with couches, video games and a jukebox. Demons walk in and start shooting up the place, throwing people and furniture around, looking for the Englishman. Of course they couldn’t tell the nationality of anyone until they heard the accent. The boat docks, and Audrey is caught by the demons. Timothy and I, who are now the same person, go running down the ramp full speed ahead, demons following. It’s too bad we don’t have any sort of vehicle to get away in. We spy some motorcycles and are considering just taking one, when up drives a light blue mini car with a blonde driving. She tells tim/me to hop in and we do so, speeding away, demons on motorcycles hot on our tail. She begins laying out our escape plan, explains where we will be going, and then she is singing "are you the one that I’ve been waiting for" in nick caves voice, backed by the bad seeds. This being my alarm, I am gradually and reluctantly brought back to reality.

Friday, October 03, 2003

My Aunt Karen is driving my mom's convertible. My mom is in the passenger seat and I am in the back. We are driving through the small town in Back to the Future. As we approach the cinema, we drive under a big tree with low, leafless, barkless branches. The branches are very hard and when they hit us they sound dead. They whack me in the face, but I feel no pain. My mom's hair gets tangled in the branches and she is pulled out of the convertible. She is flipped around. She is hanging upside down in the tree. My Aunt slams on the brakes in front of the cinema. I jump out and run up to someone talking on a cell phone. I tell the person I need the phone to call 9-1-1. I grab it out of their hand and dial as I run back to the tree. The operator tells me an ambulance is on the way. I hang up and ask my mom how she is, but I get no response. Her legs appear to be broken at the joints. I go back to the convertible and get in, and seconds later the ambulance arrives. The ambulance drives past my mom in the tree, us in the convertible, and pulls up in front of the cinema. It is one of those old station wagons, painted white with orange trim, and with ECNALUBMA painted on the hood and sides. The driver steps out and with a crazy, wide-eyed grin asks who needs help. I point to my mom hanging upside down in the tree.

Suddenly I am in a suburb built by a corporation. All of the houses are the same, other than the paint, which is done in the same 4 muted shades of gray, tan, pink, and purple. Each has a black or gold SUV in the driveway. Every yard is the same and surrounded by a 6 foot fence painted to match the house it surrounds. Inside each yard is a family having a barbeque. I arrive in a yard with a pumpkin pie in a 9" cake pan. I set the pie cake on a table. The sky is a threatening shade of purple. The clouds burst and the ensuing downpour drenches everyone and all the food. People are screaming to get the food under cover. I pick up my pumpkin pie cake and start to run it into the house for the yard I was in. The owner yells “NOT THE HOUSE!” and points to a fenced in area of 2 acres or so, filled with row upon row of picnic tables. “The rec area!” I run over there with my pie cake. A single row of tables has a roof over it. Each table has a family sitting at it. I don’t have a family to sit with, so I find a table with 3 other singles. I set my pie cake on it, and sit. My mom comes up behind me with three Mylar balloons proclaiming happy birthday. I turn around when I hear her speak. She says she got invitations from three different bars to celebrate her birthday there. She invites me to come along, and the next thing I know we are standing outside a bar. I don’t really want to go in, dreading the cigarette smoke and crowds of people. I follow her in anyhow and the band is setting up. The bar is mostly empty, other than a bartender and a couple of roadies. I look for the bathroom and see the sign on the other side of the room. I walk through the doorway and am in a small room with a grand piano. The piano is playing itself, a dark moody tune. I walk over to it and pound on the keys, trying to make it stop playing itself. I try to tell it to stop but I feel like parts of me have sleep paralysis and I cannot open my eyes all the way or speak. I keep pounding on the keys and eventually am able to groan, “Stop it!” I lift the top of the grand piano and look inside. It is empty. The music continues.

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

Sit back from your monitor a ways and kind of blur the focus of your eyes. Cross them a a little. Like when you look at the posters at malls where you try to find the hidden picture. What do you see in the spaces between the words?

It is my birthday. Tim and I are in a huge, dilapidated old mansion in Scappoose. We are waiting for the bus to Portland, which will stop right outside our front door. Angela is playing music. She has a speaker sitting face down on a heater vent and the music is echoing throughout the heating ducts of the house. I walk up a spiral staircase and ask her to turn it down, just as my guests are arriving. Clayton, Summer, Tyler, and 3 others acquaintances from my high school. We are digging through our pockets when the bus arrives. My guests get on the bus, but Tim is looking for the keys. He finds them and as we are leaving I ask him for my bus fare. He only has enough for himself, but Clayton offers to loan me a dollar. I thank him profusely and we get on the bus, paying our fares. As the bus leaves Scappoose, we climb a hill with a bus stop halfway up. Two women are waiting there, but the bus passes them without stopping. I tell the driver there were people at that stop and he mumbles something about pulling over when there is enough shoulder on the side. Meanwhile, he is passing plenty of shoulder and the women are chasing the bus up the hill. They tire and slow to a walk. The bus pulls into an intersection, stops, and opens it’s doors for them. They climb on the bus and suddenly we are on a boat, trying to get back to Scappoose. The boat bumps another, which happens to be a floating refueling station. We discuss taking the boat back to Scappoose, but decide it will not make it. In the blink of an eye, we are walking a bicycle path through the park along Front Avenue. The grass is gray and dead. The trees are barren. We are on our way to a Pearl Jam concert. Eddie Vedder and Brandie have joined our group. Brandie is flirting with Clayton and I start to sing. A boom box appears in Brandi’s hand and suddenly we are listening to loud rock music. We get ahead of our group, whom we do not notice have stopped. Brandie and I arrive at the concert, and a small group of people are swaying to the music, in front of the stage. Instead of Pearl Jam, we are listening to a 7 piece riverboat jazz band. Brandie goes to the front of the stage and begins swaying, out of time with the music. I join her. Behind the band a tri-level choir riser is ascending, carrying on it 6 dancers in gold, purple, and silver spangled leotards, each doing their own backup dance. I laugh at the absurdity of the sight and sit on a bench. Clayton sits next to me and as we are about to speak, Summer comes around the corner carrying a board with beaded jewelry pegged to it. There is a stunning barrette, made of carved filigree jade in a nouveau floral design. I exclaim at it’s beauty as the Melvins rock my alarm.

Saturday, September 27, 2003

I had this dream when I was about 16.

Josh and I are walking around a lake. Some of my other friends are there as well. Erin. Brandie. Jason. I lose my balance and fall in. I cant swim. I splash madly, trying to stay afloat. Everyone on the shore is watching, but no one is coming in to help me. I sink to the bottom. My lungs fill with water. I can't breathe. Suddenly I am awake and still suffocating. The blankets are wrapped around my neck, covering my face, choking me. I thrash and convulse, desperately yanking them away from my face and gasping for fresh air. I finally get them all off of me. They are soaked in places with my sweat, which I am covered head to toe in. I sit on the edge of my bed for a few minutes, catching my breath and sweating, then get up and walk to the front porch, sitting on the bench. The night air cools my sweat and within a few minutes I am shivering. I stand, walk inside, and go back to bed.

And another...this one was dreamed when we went camping the summer I turned 9. I am in love with a native american boy. I am in my backyard, which was not my backyard. It was surrounded by a 6 foot, rather nondescript wood plank fence. I shoot an arrow, and it goes around the world collecting sports balls. A soccer ball, a basketball, and my native american loves head. His face is twisted into a grotesque, horrified scream. It lands in the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom in the manufactured home we were living in. That's all I remember. When we got home 2 days later, I refused to go in that bathroom, for 4 days. My mom finally got tired of me waking her up in the morning to use my parents bathroom so she made me go in there and stay in there until I calmed down and realized there was no head on the counter, and it wasnt likely to appear.

Thinking of that bathroom, I remember Halloween of that same year, or maybe the year before or after. I was taking a leak and my stepdad came a-knocking and said he needed to use the toilet. Never mind that they had their own bathroom! I finished my business and opened the door. Standing there was my stepdad in a mr. potato head mask. It was like a big light brown pillow with a hole for his head to go in, two holes cut out for eyes, and a hole for the mouth. It had messy yarn hair. I screamed at the top of my lungs, slammed the bathroom door, and locked it. I could hear my parents laughing, and my dad said "rachie! open the door! Its just me! Dont be afraid!" to which i replied "NO!" He said "rachie come on, open the door! it was just a mask! " me: "NO! not until you take it off!" "okay i took it off! open the door rachie!" so i cracked the door and saw that he had indeed taken it off. he showed it to me and my mum showed me her matching mrs. potato head mask. I wonder if my mom still has those masks. They are so freaky.

Friday, September 26, 2003

Memories, fleeting like a lost dove,
through the vast patterns of
shadow and light called my mind.
My breathing, a
wave less
s s e n s s s a t i o n,
for where am I if not here?
I know nothing of beginnings
or endings,
sitting in the endless light,
captivated by
the thought flitting past,
into oblivion.
To remember is to know.

24/10/01 Creamy Dreamy, Nuttier than squirrel shit.

Tim and I are in the St. Helens Safeway parking lot. It is being repaved. I am in front of the store and I see Tim get in a car with three fat, trashy women. I call him and ask what he is doing. He says he is going to the studio. I say “But I thought you were gonna go with me and I would drop you off at the studio later?” He is speechless and confused. Then we are walking through the area being repaved, which is suddenly our bedroom. Timothy is trying on some new clothes in the bathroom. I hand him pants and a shirt, and he closes the bathroom door. I watch the man paving our floor in silence. The bathroom door opens and Tim says “What do you think?” He is wearing the pants and shirt I had given him. “Wow!” I say, “You are so sexy and handsome!” Suddenly we are in the living room. We are on the lam from a big scary mob guy (BSMG). I look out the window and see the mob guy enter the building. I sit on the toilet (which is located in the kitchen of our apartment) and begin to defecate. The elevator, which is located in front of the toilet, begins to descend. I jump on top of the toilet to hide. BSMG and his Butler are in the elevator and both look directly at me without actually seeing me as they pass my floor. The elevator stops one floor below ours, and the BSMG steps out and walks away, Butler in tow. I continue defecating and try to flush. The toilet is plugged because of the elevator. I still have to go, so I continue defecating, and it comes out of a hole in the windowsill. I am sooo disgusted and grossed out. I cant just leave it there, so I wrap my hand in toilet paper and pick it up, then throw it in the toilet. No matter how much I wipe my ass it does not come clean. I really need to flush, so I call the elevator up. The toilet still will not flush, and begins to overflow into the elevator shaft. BSMG’s Butler is pissed! He climbs the shaft and starts yelling at me. I try again in confused consternation to flush the toilet. It shatters, exploding toilet water and shit all down the elevator shaft, coating the Butler in a thick layer. The elevator is now broken, and the Butler is worrisome and terrified. “BSMG is gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me! I took out the stairs! He is stuck down there now! No way out except elevator and it’s broken! He’ll kill me! There’s shit allover! I’m gonna die!!” He stops and sits at my kitchen table, depressed. “I am so sorry,” I say. I felt bad for him. Tim comes in and we offer Butler some pot. We tell him he will feel better. I take two hits from the vaporizer and Butler offers some crystal meth. I say sure and he hands me my cat. My cat? “Where is it?” I ask, confused. He points to her feet and I scrape the meth off her paws. I get a crack pipe from Tim and load it, then I see Butler has a clear plastic case full of meth nuggets. I ask for one and tell Tim we are splitting it. I ask for a razor and a CD case to cut it on and tell Tim there is enough for two small lines. He doesn’t really approve but is going along anyways.
BEEP BEEP BEEP the alarm goes off and I wake up.

22/10/01 Question this dream between the truths, learning before believing.

I am at the barn, the sky is a line of flaming orange in the west igniting the dark green forest looming in front of it. I am cleaning Fatimas stall, there are piles of garbage in it. For instance, an egg mcmuffin wrapper from Mcdonalds. I pick it up and think, “Why the fuck is this in here? McDonald’s is soo nasty, I would never eat there!” I finish cleaning her stall and pat her goodbye. I peer into her buddy Bruce’s stall. He is sick and there are piles of garbage in his stall too./ I clean out the garbage, thinking Robin would be pissed at me for going in there. I think “ I will tell her I needed to use the mirror to put in my barrettes and while I was in there I picked out the garbage.” Robin shows up and I tell her. She asks where the vet is, he was finishing up with a gray horse. Then Robin, Clara, and I are sitting outside the barn at a picnic table, smoking pot and talking. There is an airplane in the sky with a terrorist in it. We decide to leave. Clara offers me a ride and we hop on her bicycle. The barn is in Scappoose, behind Fred Meyers. When we reach the road, as we are peddling along, the plane descends and shoots two fireballs at us. It continues its descent and turns into a flying bicycle. He shoots again and we dodge the fireballs. We continue peddling frantically towards the terrorist on the flying bike. As we pass, he holds up his right hand, index and middle finger up. The universal sign for “two.” I ask Clara what this means and she says it means he will kill us both in two days. We continue on our way peddling through Scappoose. We eventually out-peddle him and leave him behind. His bike turned back into a plane and flew away. When we get to Vernonia hwy, he was back up high in the sky. We jump into a ditch on the side of the road to hide, two stray fireballs had almost hit us. He did not see us and leaves, so we continue to my moms house. When we get there, my mom is behaving strangely. Void, vacant. My bedroom does not have curtains and is warped, grainy, and creepy. I quickly leave and walk back to the living room. The whole house is creepy. I ask Clara if she would like to stay, its dangerous out there. She declines as she has to get home. She leaves. On TV is the terrorist. He is still in the plane. He has granted an interview, as long as the questions are asked by one of his minions. I am not watching this on the television but from the cockpit of the airplane, although I am not really there. The first questions asked is “Why are you wearing an oxygen mask? It’s making fun of people who really need them! You don’t need one when your flying in that kind of plane, everybody knows!” A look of doubt crosses his face, and after a few more moments of hassling, he takes it off. He seems fine for a moment, but he is immediately weakened by the lack of oxygen. He is unable to lift the mask back to his face. He opens the window for fresh air. He is not getting enough and sticks his head out. He is slowly sucked out of the window. I think “O my god the plane will crash! I hope it goes down in an unpopulated area!” Then I wake up.

10/11/01 Dream
There was an alien invasion and because of this, the government became very interfering and controlling, and took away many of our rights. Tim and I are walking in downtown Portland in them middle of winter. All is dark and surreal. Twilight time. Some snowfall on the ground, bare trees, dark buildings. The lights in town are turned off for our protection, to keep us hidden. Tractors, tanks, and military personnel are all over the place. We are sharing a home with 10 other people because of the alien invasions, no one lives alone, and everyone lives in large groups. So Tim and I are unable to sleep together or make love. I am in the shower. The water turns off every two minutes because we are not supposed to take any longer than that in the shower, due to government restrictions. I finally finish bathing. Tim and I are to be sent on a mission to find someone who supposedly could save us from the aliens. Everyone, even our wise, ancient, white bearded leader, all suddenly believes in god. All the atheists believe in god! Timothy and I are walking through a tunnel with our leader, talking about why everyone is suddenly a believer and Tim says “well, people need it, to feel better about all this.” I get very angry and start screaming at our venerable leader, my shrieking voice bouncing insanely off the tunnel walls. “Why the fuck does everyone suddenly believe in god! Aliens attacking us is no proof! I WILL NEVER BELIEVE WITHOUT PROOF! HAS EVERYONE GONE MAD??? THERE IS NO GOD!!!” When the echoes had cascaded out of the tunnel and all was silent again, he said “Well, just between you and I, I don’t believe in god either, but there’s nothing we can do about it so shut your mouth and pretend, for your own safety! If the masses get angry there’s no telling what they will do, even hurting or killing the one denouncing their god!” Then I woke up.


I Mostly Use My Brain to Fill Out the Shape of My Head

When I was 14 or 15 years old, my older brother and I had a friend named Mike. Mike was a riot, always fun to be around and goof off with. My mother had a boyfriend at the time named dan. Dan was a prick and we all hated him. At the time, dan was in jail on various charges and was keeping some of his stuff at our house, including a datsun 240z (which my brother and friend roger ended up totaling, hahaha but that’s another story), and a tow-camper. Mike, Aaron, and I decided to check it out, to see if there was anything interesting in there. Sticky girly mags, some rotting carpet, and a round container about 5 inches in diameter and 2 inches deep, filled to the brim with… Gunpowder! Well we decided to have our own pyrotechnics show. The plan was to cut up a wick from an oil lamp, plant it in the container, stand back and watch it explode! Looking back it seems a less than intelligent plan. We put the wick in the container, leaving about an inch standing up. Mike was to light it because he was the tallest and could run faster than Aaron or I, who stood a safe distance away, about 20 feet. Mike lit the wick and jumped back, but it fizzled. He went back over to it, stood over it, and couldn’t get the lighter to do anything more than spark. Suddenly KABOOM! It exploded in a dark cloud of smoke and the stench of burning hair. “Oh SHIT!! MIIIIKE!!” we wailed. I was terrified that he had been maimed during the explosion. Aaron and I ran toward the smoke and mike came stumbling out of it. We hurried up to him and choked on the smell of burning hair. All that remained of Mikes prized goatee was curly, white, singed stubble. His eyelashes were gone and his eyebrows were also reduced to singed stubble. After determining the mike was uninjured Aaron and I busted up in laughter. Aaron and I continued laughing as mike went inside to wash away as much dead hair as possible and try to wash away the stench. Unfortunately for him, the stench stayed with him for a few days. He ended up having to shave off his goatee compeltely, and it took a while for his eyebrows to grow to the point where he could trim off the singed ends. Lesson learned? Next time get a longer wick! HAHA!


Imagine watching yourself dream from 3 perspectives: Inside the dream experiencing it; inside the dream but watching it detached, observing rather than participating; and outside the body, watching your physical body move and observe changes throughout the night.


Humans were gifted by evolution with a superior awareness of not only self, but a higher intelligence with the ability to deduce. For this reason, they are given the responsibility of being the caretakers of this planet and all species of life on it. Instead, the majority rape, pillage, and destroy any part of nature that gets in their way or can profit them. If the dominant species on this planet were peaceful, responsible, and caring, the life on this planet would have a much better chance of surviving.

Screaming through the tunnel, surrounded by people of which it takes only one to end my existence. Just one fanatic with a small bomb could kill everyone in the tunnel. In the blink of an eye, reality turns into a terrifying monster before my reality and I disappear permanently.

9/6/02 Dream
Aunt Karen and kids are living in a really old house. The floors are all collapsing, we must skirt around holes and test every step. We are wandering through this giant, creepy old house, in and out of rooms used for nothing more than storage. The kitchen is also used for storage and when we reach it, cousin Jeffrey pulls a giant green plastic mailbox into the hallway. Inside is a sword made of cardboard and shaped like a 4-sided obelisk. It appears to have a mind of its own. We take it out of the mailbox. It flies!!! It keeps going back in the mailbox, even attacking us if we try to stop it. We decide it is probably possessed somehow and best left in storage in the kitchen. We try to put the mailbox back in the kitchen, but have difficulties because the floors are collapsing and the mailbox is suddenly very, very heavy.

11/6/02 Dream

I am a child but not Rachael child. After an end of the world type situation I am walking around just trying to survive. Most adults are dead and it is always dark and gloomy; always night. There are four others in my little group of survivors, we have banded together for the benefit of all though before the disaster we were strangers. There are two other kids, a man, our monster friend, the blob dude, and myself. Big scary monsters abound, though not really hunting us down. We had recently been in a fight with a monster, he kicked our asses! Of course stronger than us kids, he threw us easily off of him. The adult was just as easily thrown; the blob dude was only slightly more difficult for the monster to throw, even though he was supposed to be really, really strong. We ran.

The cold truth is that there is no real meaning to life. However, there is a purpose: to procreate and continue the evolution of life. It doesn’t make me feel meaningless, it is actually reassuring. Life is precious, and even getting the opportunity to live is amazing and wonderful. I am grateful to have the opportunity to experience life. Even more grateful that I can appreciate life, have a sense of self, and can see the uniqueness of life. So many humans waste it, thinking they will go on to a better place (heaven) or come back in a better life (reincarnation), and don't experience every moment of it for what it is - your one chance to be alive, thinking, and feeling. Most humans accredit their existence to a creator and don't realize this one chance is all they will get to have a self. I find it so much more incredible and amazing that I, and humans in general, are here completely by chance and random mutations. It took billions of years for me to be created and for millions more years, life on earth will continue to evolve and change.


I wonder what aliens are like? I would so much love to meet a species with the intelligence required to conquer interstellar travel. I imagine they are very wise and have survived some incredible disasters wrought by their own intelligence. I think it would have a worldwide, beneficial change if aliens were to visit us. Creationists and other religious extremists would be forced to re-examine their beliefs, and humans would have to wake up to the fact that neither we, nor our planet, are invincible.

Sitting on MAX watching the trees on the distant hills. The green turns to brown and the needles fall to the ground. They eventually are dust, and all that is left are the bare trees, dead, sunburned, the brittle branches gradually break and fall to the bare earth. They too crumble into dust. Soon all that is left of the beautiful green forests is the windswept dirt beginning to cover the dead and broken tree stumps, a bleak reminder of the beauty here that was carelessly destroyed. Over time, even these too become nothing more than unremarkable dust on a now dead planet. The rare and precious gift of life that was bestowed upon this insignificant yet lovely planet had been damaged irreparably in a few hundred years by the very life it had sheltered and nurtured for millions of years.

Another little golden nugget of truth: Fear not death, for you will not know it!

This man sat next to me on the Max. He looked like he had a mild case of Down's. He asked the man sitting to my right for 25 cents. The man said no. He then turned to me and said "Sis, do you have 25 cents?" I had just spent all my change on a MAx ticket, so I told him that I don’t have any. He then began starting at me blatantly, looking away every few minutes, and then staring again. I abhor being stared at. After about 10 minutes, I called my grandmother to let her know I was on my way, hoping this would cause him to turn away. He stared at me through the entire conversation. When my call was finished, I put the phone away, pulled out my sunglasses, pointedly looked him directly in his eyes, and covered mine with my sunglasses, staring hard at him the entire time. He finally looked away.

Some Questions
I’ve been watching Stephen Hawking’s Universe lately. So.... If all matter that crosses the event horizon of a black hole, is gradually crushed to a tiny, tiny point… The big bang started as a tiny point… Maybe black holes give birth to universes? It wouldn’t explode out of the end that sucks everything in though; maybe it explodes into another dimension/universe out the "other side"? The universe began when all matter was condensed to a single point smaller than a period. So why did it condense into such a small point? Black holes have this effect on matter. Is there other phenomenon in the universe that has the same effect on matter? If our universe was caused by a black hole, where is the universe, which that one exploded out of? At the beginning of time? So where did the first black hole start and how was that universe created?
And when was time?
Why is matter here at all? Where did the very first piece of matter (energy) come from, the matter that was condensed to a point at the beginning of our universe? Why is there anything at all? Why is there not Nothing? it's so maddening...

Silently alike we meet
between life and thought
with intuition we love
delirious in our together.

While on my way to Finlandia, a man got on the bus. He was really large and shaped like The Mayor in "Nightmare Before Christmas." He had on a brown hat and his face was covered in long black stubble. On the right side of his mouth and chin was a bloody red area. It looked as thought he had either been eating bloody raw meat and not wiped his mouth, or he had picked and scratched his face until it was bloody. After one of the other passengers got off, he said, very loudly, "Excuse me Miss! EXCUSE ME MISS!!" to the woman who had said goodbye to the passenger who just departed. "HAVE YOU EVER HEARD THE SONG "THE HANGING TREE"?!?" I had just been thinking to myself how creepy this guy was, that made him seem even creepier! She distastefully responded with a negative, and he abruptly turned straight forward and disappeared into his own world.

4/8/02 Corporate Casual
After having a conversation with Bob in our apartment downtown, Timothy motioned to me and suggested I check out the dudes walking toward us through the parking lot across the street. One was a super short, thin Asian moog, and one a tall, obese big white moog, both with dark hair and goatees. They were walking in step and dressed identically in brown hiking shoes, white ankle socks, khaki shorts, and dark blue t-shirt. This coupled with the identical hair goatees and walking in step made for quite the spectacle. Timothy exclaimed loudly that they were dressed identically and started laughing. When I looked out the window I started laughing harder and louder than I have in a long time. The window was open! The little guy seemed to know what we were laughing about as he looked first at his outfit, then the big guys outfit, and both turned and seemed to look directly at me as I collapsed to the floor in a fit of loud, uncontrollable laughter.

30/8/02 Dreaming of Vestigial Giggles
Just woke from a dream in which I had a gray arab stallion at my moms house. i was waiting for a bus to Portland and working with him. He was being pushy and managed to knock me over and get out. He ran up the road with me chasing him yelling "DAMMIT!! IM GONNA GELD YOU WHEN I CATCH YOU!!!"

If the Alexandrian library had not been destroyed by religion and science had prevailed, we might be living on another planet right now, and space travel would be as commonplace as flying is today. Imagine if a species had in its possession a book of their history! If I could alter one thing in history I would save the Alexandrian library, or at least the Book of Knowledge said to have been housed there.

4/10/02 Dream
Timothy and I are on the lam. Timmy said we should head out to the coast, so we did. We stopped on the road to get some sleep but a cop immediately pulled in behind us and said we couldn’t sleep there. So we kept going. We were driving thorough an extremely wooded, mountainous area. We came upon a small shack perched atop a small, high cliff, hardly more than an outcropping of rock. We went in and found the bathroom, which had an out of order sign on it. We wanted to bathe but the sign said this place didn’t have running water. We were disappointed about not being able to bathe when the owner of the shack walked in and apologized for the lack of running water. We then left the shack and were driving in our convertible through the countryside. We stopped at a store in a town with a population of about 7000 people and were quickly recognized. We left posthaste, the small town cop in hot pursuit. He was determined to catch us, as it would be his big break. We came to an abandoned manufacturing campus on which stood another tiny shack, kept by a blind man. Timothy made arrangements for us to live there, on the upper floor, which was the size of a bathroom. The middle floor, which was to be the blind mans, was the size of a twin bed. The fat cop pulled up next to one of the manufacturing buildings; he had found our hideout. With nothing to lose and nowhere to go, we ran to the roof and jumped…

…and as we fell hundreds of feet to the forest below, we became one person. The thick, lush, deciduous rain forest trees and bushes caught us, slowing our fall as we crashed through the branches until we came to a halt inches above the ground and climbed out of the broken brush. We checked our selF for broken bones and found only scratches and bruises. We took off at mad run through the forest dodging spider webs and tree stumps. We fell into a ravine and suddenly we're

out of the sky, heading straight down for a lone fir tree standing between an old farmhouse and railroad tracks. We land in the tree, impaling our selF on a tree branch, gurgling as we take our last breath and expire.

9/10/02 Dreamkeepers of the Divine Bomb

“If we set off a Noo-Ku-Lar B-O-M-B near a black hole, a worm hole will appear!” he said.
“But a black hole is caused by a collapsing star with so much gravity that even light cannot escape. Where are you going to get a black hole?” I responded. “This theory of yours doesn’t make any sense.”
So the argument went. He had his idiot sidekick at the launch button. Knowing I was running out of time, I tried desperately to show them the errors in their thinking. When the bomb exploded, , he pushed me to the ground yelling “GET DOWN! GET DOWN!!! FUCK!!! IT DIDN’T WORK!! FUCK!!!” Suddenly we are outside the building, which was made completely of transparent, sickly green glass, watching the mushroom cloud hanging gracefully behind it. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, swearing. “Fuck! I’ve gotta tell him not to set off the other one!”
“WHAT! He has another?? What the fuck were you thinking!!!” I had a queer feeling in my stomach, a sickening combination of nausea and butterflies. I could see the sidekick (who happened to be my ex-boyfriend John) reaching for the button that would detonate the second nuke.
“Wait! WAIT!!” he cried as he dialed the sidekicks phone number. I heard the sidekick’s phone ring and immediately the second bomb exploded above us. I was miraculously unhurt. I was worried sick about my cat and went into my room to get her, and some personal belongings, as well as some clothing for the next few days. My room was steeped in radiation and I immediately began to feel enervated. My muscles became weaker and my thinking slowed. I fell to my knees and turned around to crawl out of my room. I was getting weaker, and breathing came hard. My lungs felt like they were filled with sand. I collapsed to my stomach, reaching my hand to the door, a foot away. I laid my cheek on the carpet and said my last goodbye to existence.


There is something about the autumn months that makes them feel a little more surreal than all of the other seasons. The sun hits differently, the air has a fresh sharpness, not really cold or hot, just sharp. Shadows are longer while the days grow shorter,. The landscape comes alive through its own death, in vibrant shades of orange and red highlighted by the constant green of the evergreen rain forests. Peacefulness settles over everything as the animals prepare for winter and the birds fly away to their winter vacation spots, gliding on the cool fall breezes. The moon often looms low on the horizon, a huge deep orange face peering curiously through our atmosphere, observing our scurrying and wondering why when all other life is slowing, humans are still conducting all facets and patterns of their monotonous lives. The increasingly bare trees greet the adventurous with open arms, inviting to be climbed, offering closer examination of the beautifully hued leaves before they glide elegantly to the ground, where they crunch and shatter delightfully underfoot. A wind rustles and blows the fallen into a thick carpet which disintegrates into a fine dust, fertilizing the land that birthed it as it decomposes.

31/1/03 Dream
A massive roundup and segregation of people, one of which was me. We were all put in a large house at the edge of a huge lake. At the opposite end of that lake was a small mountain, not much more than a hill, really. It was covered in a lush forest and wild grapevines. The mountain somehow made us all go nuts and we started killing each other. We didn’t figure out what was going on until only seven of us remained. Grape juice made from the grapes on the mountain stopped our aging process. We didn’t know until we had a visitor from the outside world who was supposed to be our age but was now old and decrepit.

23/6/03 Imagine

Being hit by a car on my bicycle. I feel the thud, see the ground fast approaching and instinctively curl into a ball, but my foot catches on the bike. Instead I land splayed on the concrete, bone and flesh twisted with metal, distorted and broken. But what if it happened on the Hawthorne bridge? Flying over the railing, somersaulting with my bike. A shoelace is wrapped around a pedal. We hit the water in a heap. I open my eyes, looking for up. The bike is tangled in me and I shrug it off, reaching for daylight above. Running out of air, struggling for daylight, my progress ever slower as the bicycle pulls me to my final resting place at the bottom of the river.

Wednesday, August 27, 2003

The other day I received a religious e-mail from someone talking about being turned away at heavens gates for not believing in the Christian god. Now, she knows I am atheist, and I know that she is not a Christian per se, so I am not really sure why she sent it to me (maybe just looking for an atheists take on it)? At any rate, it ended with this question:


Here is how I responded:
I would say no, I do not believe in god or jesus, but I would not feel shame for the rest of my life. Where is the shame in thinking rationally? In requiring proof before believing in fairy tale stories that for 2000 years have absolutely not one shred of evidence to back them up, only hearsay from people who all believe the same thing and are too afraid to question for the truth lest they be cast into hell. Do you realize that 2000 years ago, when Christianity was rising, the general masses had no concept of science or rational thought to explain events in their lives? They would have believed anything the priests told them - they had no means of finding out the truth for themselves, the majority were even illiterate! We now have these options, and I choose to use rational thought and science to explain events in my life. There is nothing to fear in death, your biological brain simply stops and your "self" ends with it. I am not afraid of going to hell, I actually find some amusement in the concept. What I find most amusing is that Christians will tell you that God loves you but you will go to hell if you don’t believe, even though he doesn’t give you any sort of proof of his existence. That email illustrates my point perfectly. You may have spent your lifetime doing good unto others, but if you don’t believe in god, all bets are off and you’re going to hell!!! What kind of "loving father" would send his children to hell for not believing when HE did not offer any sort of evidence? What makes disbelief such a big sin that it matters more than how you actually behave in your life, the choices you make, the good or bad that you do? It is such a sin because without belief, the priests have no control over you - therefore if they tell you that you are going to hell if you don’t believe, you will believe and obey, even if you believe for no other reason than fear of hell. However, if you do NOT believe, the priests lose their ability to control you, you begin to think and question and suddenly your questioning things like slavery, societal status, government, equality, human rights. I think Christianity actually disgusts me more than any other religion because it is rife with hypocrisy and violence. Why do you think they call the dark ages the "dark" ages? It was a low point in the evolution of human society, where fear and demons and ghosts lurked around every corner, the masses were uneducated, and the priests were in control. That is what happens when religion is in control. Did you know that Leonardo DaVinci, who was one of the driving forces of the Renaissance (which pulled us out of the dark ages in the 1500's), and is still considered a genius, did not believe in god? Albert Einstein may have believed in an orderly universe with a creator, but he also did not believe in Christianity or Judaism (Einstein was actually a Jew). Many of our founding fathers, such as Ben Franklin, also did not believe in any god (were atheist), and that was their purpose of making this country free of religion.

Now, while I personally do not believe in any sort of Gods or Demons and have never seen any sort of evidence for them, I will not hold someone’s religion against them. In this country people are free to believe what they will, that is everyone’s prerogative. I don't think there is anything that could give me any sort of belief in any religion so I will leave you with one last thought on the subject of religion - throughout time, when humans have believed in a god or gods, they are convinced that their god is real, he really exists. But what makes the Christian god more real than the roman or Greek gods? What makes him more real than the Hindu gods? I propose that there is no difference, each is only as real as the other, and further, I concur with Carl Sagan that God is the creation of Man, rather than Man being the creation of God.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

Recent Dream - last week or the week before.

I remember merely fragments until this point – vague memory of throwing a party in the house we are fixing up and about to move into, a strange attic accessible by moving a board in the ceiling and hopping down, a car with a sunroof pulls up outside, and a few other fragments of more feeling than memory. Then, my mom, timothy, and myself are going to watch the fireworks. We enter a hilly park as night is falling, and search for someplace to lay our blanket and sit. The hill we are on is huge and a clearing – surrounded by trees. There is but one level area and it is occupied by a man and his son. The boy tells his father that he needs to poop, and the man tells his son to go right where he is. The boy squats and diarrhea explodes out of his ass. After dumping this package, the boy and his father are driven off of the level area by the stench of the kid’s shit. My mom, Timothy, and I arrive at this level spot and lay our blanket down directly centered on the boy’s smelly package. It is squished, and shit oozes into the spaces between the fibers of the blanket. In the center of the blanket there is now a brown spot. We lift it, disgustedly ponder moving, and decide to just avoid that part of the blanket. The fireworks start and with the 3rd explosion, suddenly it is daylight and we are leaving the fireworks show. We cheer loudly, stand, and leaving the blanket behind, hike to the woods. A short walk through the woods and we are on some kind of logging road, next to a few acres of clear-cut forest planted with grass, fenced into 3 different pastures containing horses. As we walk I see Fatima. I call to her, but we don’t really have time to stop. I tell them this is where I've been boarding Fatima. I see a man walking toward Fatima’s pasture leading a solid black, huge 16.2hh non-Foundation Quarter Horse stud, built downhill and with a larger rump than front end. As the man brings the stud into Fatimas pasture I scream at the top of my lungs, “GET THAT STUD AWAY FROM MY MARE!!!!!” I run over and the man stutters apologetically something about not knowing it was my mare but thinking they would be a great match and wanting to breed the two. I woke up flabbergasted.

Saturday, July 26, 2003

Printed in Portland Mercury - unedited version:

I find your lighthearted article on drunk driving to be rather disturbing, especially in light of the recent drunk driving deaths in the area. Drunk driving is a serious issue - according to the MADD website, 18,000 are killed every year in the USA, in alcohol related crashes. Anyone who would drive after drinking is seriously lacking in intelligence, education, or both. For Ms. Skinner and her friends, and those like them, I suspect it is the former. I am of the same age and assumed education level (through public high school at least), and though I have already outgrown the idiotic "drunk is fun" mentality, I had plenty of opportunities to drive drunk in the past. Opportunities that were never taken because not only did I realize at an early age that vehicles can easily become killing machines, but the subject of the dangers of drunk driving was also covered numerous times at school, and public schools no less! Ms. Skinner portrays herself as being more concerned with keeping her status of cool with her friends than actually educating her friends and helping prevent further drunk driving deaths. When will people realize that the decisions made often not only affect yourself but also the innocent passersby, who's family and friends then will have to live with the choice that you have forced on them by taking away their loved one. Come on people, it doesnt take a rocket scientist to figure the equation of drunk driver + 1300lb of steel, metal, and glass = STUPID! Everyone seems to think "it won't happen to me, it only happens to other people." YOU are those "other people," and you ARE NOT invincible! So please, before getting behind the wheel after throwing back a few, consider the possible consequences of your action - an innocent life taken, the effects of such on their family and friends, and the effect on yourself of having to complete your life knowing that your selfish actions had irrevocably stolen anothers. Think of your mother, sister, brother, father, your best friend, your lover, your husband or wife, and how it would affect you if they were killed by a drunk driver, or how they would be affected were you killed by a drunk driver. Think of others for once, instead of just thinking of yourself and your selfish impulses. And remember, it could just as easily be YOU mowed down by that drunk driver!

Rachael Albright

Sunday, July 06, 2003

It has come to my attention that a link in one of my archived posts is not working. It's the link to the scientific American article about ghosts supernatural experience. They moved the article here:

Tuesday, June 03, 2003

thats what i am.
i think humanity can take itself so far if we only get the chance to do right by each other and ourselves,
but first and foremost we MUST do right by each other.
even in the consitution it says that the purpose of the constitution is, in part, to promote the general welfare of its citizens. america is going backwards. those social programs and rights that we, the american people, have fought so hard for in the past are now being snatched away by this christo-fanatic right wing government that bought its way into office.
i find it so disturbing
i mean, do they REALLY represent the majority? if so, the future of human kind is not looking very promising.

Friday, May 30, 2003

OH. MY. I cant belive this is real. It's really real. This is happening, right now. Our civil liberties are being stripped away as our economy goes down the shitter. The national debt is going up, as well as unemployment, and the money lining the pockets of our leaders, who also happen to be coroporate heads and/or in corporate beds. The rich getting richer, the poor and needy get less and less. Meanwhile, the corporations are also busy destroying our enviroment while the government destroys our relations with other countries and our national security. The kicker? Most Amercians don't give a shit! They are too busy watching reality (HA!!) television, eating Mcdonalds, attempting to mate, and sleeping through their empty lives to be bothered with the thought.

This is so sick.

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

On Friday night, as I was driving on my scooter to Menche’s house, I was hit by a station wagon. At the intersection of 33rd and NE Sandy, I was going straight, the car that hit me was facing me, going the opposite direction, and she made a left turn directly into me. The car hit right under where I sit. A few inches forward and I would probably still be in the hospital. My scooter fell on its right side, my left leg caught under it, and we slid a few feet. As I was trying to push the heaviest part of my scooter off my leg to free myself, a woman came running up and lifted my bike off of me. A man arrived immediately after and they both helped me to the side of the road. I thought the woman helping me was the person who hit me, but she wasn’t – she had however seen the entire accident. The man called 911 and the woman helped me get comfortable. My ankle was badly burned by the asphalt, and there was a possibility it was broken. MY left hand was tingling, and my arm felt pretty weird from my elbow to my fingertips. I think that I caught much of my weight on my left arm when I hit the ground. As we were waiting for the police and ambulance, the woman who hit me started to drive off! She came back though and parked on the side of the road. She didn’t come over until well after the police arrived, and immediately went up to the officer and said it wasn’t her fault. He told her that he didn’t care to hear who’s fault it was, he was here to get insurance information. As I sat on the concrete sidewalk, my scooter leaning against a telephone pole, I thought about riding again and felt none of the pleasure it used to bring me, I felt only fear. I loved riding my scooter, but I don’t think I will again. I called Timothy and told him I had been hit. I asked him to call Menche and have him take me to the hospital. I did not want to have to pay for an ambulance ride in case I end up being the one to pay for the medical bills. I have never previously been in an accident and was not positive who would be paying for the medical. Ambulances are expensive, and I do not have health insurance. The medics stuffed a cardboard splint with paper, then taped it to my leg. They carried me to Menches truck, which my scooter had already been loaded into. I looked into the back at my scooter and realized it is probably totaled.
I really do not know how the lady didn’t see me. I am paranoid about being hit, so wear an orange vest with yellow reflective strips. I was facing her, with my headlight shining in her direction. The scooter has plenty of reflectors, and I also put extra reflective tape along the sides of the floor. She still somehow didn’t see me and turned right into me! IF she had been watching in the direction she was driving the car, she should have seen me RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER! If she wasn’t watching where she was driving the car, she shouldn’t be behind the wheel.
Menche took me to OHSU because it is close to my apartment and I figured I would probably need a cab to get home. They took me in and put me on a bed in a room. I waited, and waited, and waited. A doctor came in and asked what happened, I told him. He asked if I wanted any pain pills. I said no thanks. He left without cleaning or putting ointment on my wound. I waited some more. Another doctor came in, poked and prodded me, said it didn’t look broken but we would get x-rays just to be sure. I waited some more, gradually was taken to the x-ray room, then taken back to my room after the x-rays were taken. There I waited some more. Then waited a little bit longer. Eventually the doctor came in and said he checked the x-rays and it looked okay, but we needed to wait for the official word from the radiologist. He left and I waited some more. Eventually some nurses came in, and a student nurse cleaned and dressed my wound. Then they checked me out. My ankle was pretty painful to walk on, so they gave me some crutches. I didn’t get out of the hospital until around midnight. To get home, I had to call a cab. On the way home, I was telling the cabbie about the vest that I wear while riding and he asked if I ride with a partner. I said yes as Tim and I are often riding together, and he said he sees us all the time riding around on our scooters and has often thought that we are smart for wearing those bright reflective vests.
The next morning, the husband of the lady who hit me called. He said he wanted to make sure I was okay, and he has kids my age so was pretty worried when his wife told him there’d been an accident and a 22 year old woman was hurt. I wasn’t really sure what to say, but talked to him for a little while. He wants to take Tim and I out for coffee or dinner or something. That would be pretty uncomfortable I think.
Around about noon on Saturday, my muscles started to get sore. They got worse and worse, and by the end of the day, every muscle in my body ached. It even hurt to cough and sneeze. I felt like my whole body had just been pummeled. The pain increased until I went to bed that night.
The next morning when I woke, I was so stiff and sore I could barely move. The hot shower felt great, and helped loosen me up quite a bit. We went to Menche’s house for another day of yard sale-ing. Guess who showed up? Yeup, the lady who hit me. She didn’t recognize me, and I didn’t say anything. What could I possibly say? “Thanks for running over me Friday night?” I was pretty sore all day, though towards the end of the night my legs and arms were starting to feel better.
On Mondays, usually I go riding with my mom. I was unable to go riding on Monday because my ankle is too stiff and weak. I didn’t think it was a good idea to be putting that much pressure on my ankle so soon after what happened anyhow, not to mention the fact that walking is still rather painful. Besides my ankle, my back and sides are still so sore that I wouldn’t want to be over exerting myself on horseback. It takes a lot of muscles to really ride, rather than just be a passive passenger sitting on a horse. I spent the day taking care of this accident business. I had to go file a report at the DMV, as well as get in touch with a lawyer and my insurance agent. I also gave a statement to my insurance company. I found out that the woman who hit me filed a claim against my insurance company, saying that my lights weren’t on and that I was in dark clothes. I guess she forgot there were a couple witnesses as well as some police officers that arrived on the scene. Not to mention the fact that the lights on Yamaha Vinos cannot be turned off (they turn on and off with the engine). Of course, I also was wearing my bright orange vest with yellow reflective tape, which I absolutely never ride without. The witnesses and police officer even commented on the vest! I cant believe the nerve of this woman. First she runs over me, then she tries to pin the blame on me. Next thing you know she’ll be asking to come over and pour salt on my slowly healing asphalt burn.
Well, I am finishing this up on Tuesday, after starting it on Monday. I am still sore today, and my back, neck, and shoulders in particular. Timothy gave me a massage around noon because my neck and shoulder are extremely knotted. My neck feels constantly like it needs to pop, and sometimes when I turn my head to the left, it cracks loudly. The left side of my neck muscles seem really stiff, in addition to the tightness on the right side of my neck and shoulder. Every muscle in my back, upper back in particular, and my sides, are still aching. It really does suck. I was feeling so good before the accident. I had been doing a lot of jogging with my boyfriend (in fact was looking forward to jogging on Friday night, but of course that never happened), my back and shoulders were feeling good, and my endurance was also really kicking into gear – the last time I jogged, I did about a mile and a half!

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

ill start off from where I remember the dream from,
since starting from anytime before that is just
So Tim and I are walking and scooting around Portland
neighborhoods. Im not wearing my scooter helmet, I am
wearing my horse riding helemt. We come upon a
miniature horse stud, tied near the sidewalk. We stop
and I pet him. He's adorable, dark chocolate brown
with some white overo markings. His owner, some
younger man, comes out and starts bitching that we are
going to give his little stud some disease by petting
him. I pointed out that if he doesnt want people
stopping and petting the little horse, he shouldnt tie
him on the sidewalk, and we leave. We come up to a
house, a white house with a door set below the sidewalk
so that you have to go down 5 stairs to reach it. On
either side of the stairs, thick vegetation darkens and
quiets the light and noise from the street, it is like
walking into another world. There are white columns at
either side of the entrance,creating a sort of covered
porch area, and the door itself is made of oak and
glass, with full length windows on either side. We
rush down the stairs and peek in - there is some kind
of an entrance hall made of white marble, with a curved
white marble starcase set back about 10 feet from the
door. Inside there is a man (who turns and looks at
us) talking to 3 adults and 1 child. I want to sing
and listen to my voice echo through the marble halls.
I reach for the door handle, realize Im about to walk
into someones home without permission, and turn away.
We keep wandering the city until we go into our home to
go to bed. I wake up and am hot, so go into the
bathroom and run a cold shower. As the cold water
rushes over my overheated body, I hear someone come in.
I open the shower curtain and my ex boyfriends mom
(Karen) is standing there. She asks why I am taking a
shower at 2 in the morning. I explain. She leaves.
Suddenly, Tim and I are in Vancouver BC with Audrye
Horn (of twin peaks). Her father Ben Horn is after us
- he wants to kill us because he had picked out some
music that he wanted Audrey to sing to, and she hated
it so brought it to timothy, who mastered it. So, Mr.
Horn catches Audrey and I and I am trying to plot our
escape, when in comes Mr. Horn demanding to know where
to find Timothy. He plays the two cd's he has, and
asks what the difference is. Audrey points out that
one is mastered, Ben says "A-HA!! TO THE STUDIO!! WE
WILL FIND HIM THERE!" Im going shit shit shit we gotta
get outta here and save timothy, audrey why the fuck
did you blab!!! we manage our daring escape out the
window and we are running through downtown Vancouver to get to Tims studio and warn him before mr. horn.
Unfortuantely, we all arrive at the same time and are
caught again. We are taken back to Ben Horns building,
timothy included. Audrey and I are once again
plotting to escape while timothy is being interrogated.
When the "guard" brings timothy back into the room
with us, we surprise him, hit him over the head, and
make a run for it. As we are running through downtown
again, making many left and right turns, trying to lose
our pursuers, Karen hands timothy a post it note with
instructions on where to go, she will help us escape.
He sticks it in his pocket, and, thinking we had lost
the pursuers, we slow to a walk. Suddenyl we see them
behind us, and we jump behind some bushes to hide, but
they had spotted us and quickly caught us. They take
us back to the building. This time we escape, we are
all alone with mr. horn, audrey hits him inthe head
repeatedly with a shovel. "I think hes dead" she said.
"I hated him anyways. Prick." We are once again
running, knowing now that we have killed the boss man,
they will be even more desperate to find us. Timothy
looks at the post it notekaren gave him last time we
escaped. we have one day to get on some kind of ferry,
and get to another country, where we will then find our
way to the meeting place and she will get us out of
there. Unfortunately, as we were riding on the ferry,
an announcement was made to "keep an eye out for a
young Englishman (we were on a boat full of irishmen),
mid twenties. This was timothy. timothy didnt hear
this announcement, however, I did and set out to find
him and warn him to stay in hiding. timothy was in a
rec room sort of area, with couches and video games and
a jukebox. Demons walk in and start shooting up the
place, throwing people around, looking for the
englishman, which of course they couldnt tell until
they heard the accent. The boat docks, Audrey is
caught by the demons. Timothy and I, who are now the
same person, go running down the ramp full speed ahead,
demons following. too bad we dont have any sort of
vehicle to get away in. We spy some motorcycles and
are considering just taking one, when up drives a light
blue vintage mini car ( I think it was a prinz)with a blonde driving. She tells tim/me to hop in and we do so, speeding away, demons on motorcycles hot on our tail. She starts talking to us, explaining where we will be going, and starts singing "are you the one that Ive been waiting for" in nick
caves voice, backed by the bad seeds. This being my
alarm, I am gradually and reluctantly brought back to

Thursday, April 17, 2003

what is the difference between jesus and a picture of jesus?

It only takes one nail to hang a picture of jesus!

Tuesday, April 08, 2003

Dreams are wierd. Sometimes I feel like I live another life in my dreams. They are so vivid and real. When they are bad, it is absolutely terrifying. I remember them too. Remember them really well, so well that sometimes I am not sure if I am remembering something that happened in a dream or it i am remembering somethign that really happened. I can remember dreams from a long time ago. I can remember two dreams from when I was about 8 years old and lived in a yellow, 1970's , manufactured home on the property that my mom still owns. The first, which actually is one of the most frightening dreams I have ever had, happened 9oddly enough) when we were on a camping trip. Sum up: I am older, and in love with a young Indian man. I am trying to shoot a bow and arrow, the arrow misses the target and flies around the world collecting various types of sports balls, basketball, bowling ball, soccer ball - only the round ones though - and collected also my loves head, which it severed as we were meeting at the top of a fence to share a kiss. The arrow kep tflying, and eventually landed on the counter in the bathroom of that old manufactured home. The bathroom right across from my bedroom. The bathroom that was lit only by a bare bulb in the ceiling and a had broken shower, hidden behind a curtain that only moved when my siblings and I werent looking. ok so it doesnt sound so terribly frightening now, but it was a disturbing dream for an 8 year old. I refused to go in that bathroom for 3 days, when my mom and stepdad got tired of me constantly walking through their bedroom to use theirs, locked me out, and told me to go use the other one. I finally had to go so bad that I did it. The other dream wasnt as frightening, it just made me hide under my blankets. The old manufacutred home was a haunted house on top of a hill and there were skeletons guarding my bed, making sure that I didnt leave. I woke up terrified and hid unde the blankets until I finally got up the courage to check so that I could go back to sleep. I peeked out, and to my relief, saw no skeletons guarding my bed. However, I still hid under the blanket to fall back to sleep, just in case.

So, night before last I dreamed of being in a high rise apt with timothy, which was in the building where he worked, which was owned by the company he worked for. the apt was on the 11th floor. something happened, im not really sure exactly what, though i do remember a mad flight up to the 11th floor, and somehow packing all of our belongings in 2 hours, and taking it all with us. thats pretty much all i remember from that one.

Its wierd, when I think about the dreams that I have had and try to remember them, I get flashes of various dreams that ive had in the last 10 years. I could fill a book. This keyuboard is dribing my fruit loops.
ive got quite a few things to write about, which I have not had time to. ill get to it eventually. hopefully.

Last nights dream was quite odd. I do not remember all of it, but what I do remember is this: I am arriving at the Lloyd Center mall, in an old pickup truck. I go in and am immediately lost as this mall is immense and maze-like, including sections cordoned off by plastic sheets draping and folding like a theater curtain so that you must search for the opening in the folds. Suddenly I am walking down a wide corrider, much like a barn, and emerge in the ice rink, which is an ice rink no more. It has been filled with dirt and is a gigantic riding arena. Horses are veering left and right in circles and figure eights, and a chestnut arab canters past me. I think "oooh nice arab!" I keep watching the show, which is actually just the warm up arena for the show, which will come later. Warmbloods of all breeds are doing the advanced movements of dressage - here an Oldenburg, there a Lippizaner. I see enter the arena on foot, the young woman whom had been riding the chestnut arab. I recognize her by her orange-red hair and her XXL cotton puffy white and neon orange football team fan coat. I walk up to her to compliment her on her horse, and she denied, in a rather rude way, being the rider of the horse. I shrug, guess I was wrong. In the distance I see the chestnut arab cantering. I try to find an exit to the arena, to enter the main mall area(s) to find the dance store where I could purchase some leg warmers. An overweight teenage girl offers to help me - she knows this place like the back of her hand. Suddenly we are darting in and out of plastic sheet-theatre curtains, up down elevators and down up elevators, in search of the dance store. After wandering a while, running into various people pointing us in all diferent directions, Igrew frustrated and asked her to take me back to the exit I came in. Hard enough as it is in a normal mall, the overweight teenager showed just how well she knew the place (like the back of her hand!) and had me walking back up the down elevator and down the up elevator, into the arena, from which I could walk through the corridor and exit the mall, to climb into my old red truck, which i did. Then I woke up.

So today, I called the vital statistics office to get a copy of my "official" birth certificate (and finally found out for sure that my middle name is in fact spelled with an apostrophe at the end). Guess where they are located? 2 blocks south of the Nordstrom entrance to the Lloyd Center mall. yeah. So after I picked up a copy of my birth certificate and was walking back to the max, decided to detour to the mall. why not? I walked to the opposite end of the mall when I decided to ask someone if the dance store was still there. Some lucky lady at "Casual corner" fielded my question and swiftly pointed me in the right direction - right back where I came from, on the second floor (which is where i now was after entering on the 1st). I hate malls. So I walked all the way back to the other end of the mall, and lo and behold, there is is, in glittering silver and pink: THE DANCE STORE. I went in and bought some knee high leg warmers, in black.

Sunday, March 23, 2003

holy shit!!! this, as you may notice by looking at the url, is a .mil site. if this does not scare you...

there you will find documents detailing the US military plans for "total dominance" some highlights from this document:

"possible sources of friction" to full-spectrum domination:
- effects of danger and exertion
- existence of uncertainty and chance
- unpredictable actions of other actors
- frailities of machines and information
OH MY GOD this is disturbing. we have to get this mindset OUT of control of the USA!

Friday, March 21, 2003

"Fascism should rightly be called Corporatism as it is a merge of state and corporate power." Mussolini
As I sit listening to a rock album with Charlie Rose flashing in the background, I am enveloped by a surreal feeing. A war on television, a day full of worldwide protests and civil unrest, minute-by-minute live coverage of both delivered by caricatures of media and official talking heads. A green White House sits solemnly behind the correspondent who looks like the weasels in the "Pop goes the weasel" game at Chuck E Cheese. You know, the one where you hit them on the head with a "branch" to get them back in their holes. The next official, head cocked fixedly to the side, the US Senate seal perched perfectly over his shoulder, started with a smirk. I wonder, why is it that, no matter gravity of situation or audience, Bush is perpetually smirking?
they had the war, LIVE fucking LIVE!! on ABC. These fucking barbarians disgust me. I cant believe I live in a society where it is accepted to watch a war on television like some kind of twisted sport. Sometimes I am ashamed to be human.

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

YEAHYEAH its working now! I was having problems publishing.
Ok, so, last night I was watching this Nova video that I borrowed from my local library, titled "The Proof." It is about the solving of Fermats last equation. Well they were describing elliptical curves and modular forms, and this got me thinking. If there is enough matter in the universe to close itself into another dimension, what are the chances that the shape it would take is equal to the Tamiyama-Shimura equation, and the structure of space-time is supported by modular forms? Crazy thought maybe. Because, if this was so, that would possible prove the existence of the next dimension - the fourth dimension. Which could possibly also shed light on the superstrings theory of multiple dimensions, could it not? maybe if there were many 3 dimensional universes, all curved back onto themselves in elliptical curves, and they were all linked to somehow form the next dimension, it would possibly shed more light on the structure of not only our universe/dimension, but the 4th universe/dimension of which tesseracts are what shadows look like.
Well, watching that video last night, and doing the studying of math which I have been, has made me realize something. Math is FUN! It is so logical and makes so much sense. I was actually a bit surprised at how easily I understood the mathematics they were talking about in the film - I have only a small amount of algebra and geometry education, so at this time I will not be able to answer the question myself, but I am going to school (yay me I just finished all my GED tests with HIGH scores too!) and have a passion to learn. Speaking of GED tests, I just have to brag a bit. here are my scores, out of a possible high of 800:
social studies 640
Reading 800
Writing 800
Science 800
Mathematics 710
Not bad, eh? I was kinda disappointed with the SS score, I didnt go back and check my answers like I should have. I cannot believe how easy the tests were. So easy that I was wondering wether I was even interpreting the questions correctly at times!! So, I am finally on my way to higher education!
This is something that I have often pondered in the past and now science is finding it to be more true than the alternative. You can read about it here: 09EC588EEDF
Basically it has to do with the supernatural being literally "all in the mind," i.e. supernatural phenomena being caused directly by some sort of stimulation of the brain. You can also read more about this subject in Carl Sagans book "The Demon Haunted World." I have often questioned the reasons or realities of life, but in the last couple of years I have begun questioning it with scientific questions and searching for the truth behind reality by what can be shown and proved through logic and reasoning. I have just not found enough evidence for a god to believe. Do I think the universe is more than just us? Oh yes, I am sure our universe is a part of some ever grander structure. But that in itself is also reason to feel lucky to be alive and to cherish every moment that we have as special, to see every life as something that should not be wasted. In this random universe, our few moments of awareness are brought about in a total random fashion, and our lives filled with and directed by random cause and effect - from the process of evolution to the humand, to the combination of my DNA making up who I am , to even our chance meeting and you reading this sentence. All created and shaped by random cause and effect. Visally this is represented by a fractal, exemplified by the random growth of trees, the beaches of rivers, and the shape of coast lines around the world. Since I have been looking for the truth in visible, replicatible evidence, I have found the mystical and supernatural slowly seeping away, but I am okay with that. I want to know the truth more than I want to be comforted, and will accept as truth what evidence I am shown. I feel lucky that I am even able to be alive and aware, let alone questioning my existence and the universe around me. I stopped searching for the answers to these questions in my "heart" and started searching for the "truth." Don't get me wrong, I still think some questions should be answered with the heart - mainly questions OF the heart! Anyhow, I am very satisfied with the answers science has so far given me - I find it very awe inspiring and magnificent - and I have answers with evidence, that truly make logical sense. Which is exactly what I was looking for.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003