The OFFICIAL Unofficial Achewood Message Board
Trivial Pursuits => People & Places => Topic started by: Biz Markizzle on January 16, 2006, 05:20:35 pm
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Hi
So I hate to bring up past drama, but lately on this board I have been reading all the arguments and whatnot and being greatly amused by them, partly at the foolishness of people who seem unable to follow what seems to me a fairly simple Internet protocol, and partly at people who talk as though things like "tiny cans of Dr. Pepper" have any actual value in this world (a world in which important things are happening, such as Chinese villagers protesting, and Eminem getting remarried).
But then! Last night I had a dream that I logged onto my gmail account, and I had an e-mail from every user of this board telling me that I now had negative two thousand cans of Dr. Pepper. The e-mail did not say why. But in my dream, having such a low score led to disastrous results: the entire Internet stopped working. Forever. After that I forget what happened basically, but I know I spent some time panicking and trying to figure out what I was going to do without the Internet, and eventually I ended up in Borders, where a band called "Roxanna and the Rox" were playing.
So, apparently, in a mental test of strength between my slightly condescending attitude toward the Internet and my fear of being disliked by large groups of people, the latter has taken the Victory. Just wanted you to know I'm having dreams about you. Hopefully in the future they will be more sexy and less anxiety-based.
Biz
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Last night I had a dream that I logged onto my gmail account, and I had an e-mail from every user of this board telling me that I now had negative two thousand cans of Dr. Pepper. The e-mail did not say why. But in my dream, having such a low score led to disastrous results: the entire Internet stopped working. Forever.
That would be awesome - "Newbie, we at TOUAMB have decided that your lameness is a detriment to online society as a whole. We are not banishing you from our board. We are banishing you from the entire online realm. Please give your computer to the nearest library. While you're there, find a nice book or three. You have the time now."
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I've been noticing too that sometimes these things like post count and tiny can quota end up taking center stage, while they're actually just accessories to a discussion around drawings of a cat in a thong.
But anyway, here's a can for you, just in case.
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There. That's one can towards the "make sure Biz Markizzle continues to have tne Internet" drive. Yay!
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Minus 2000 is paltry. I've seen the bottom of the hole.
I haven't seen where post count and tiny cans take center stage - at least not among the people I talk to the most around here. The problems I've seen pop up where people either take things too personally or try to attack people personally. Sort of like in real life.
The other problems happen when people display a high level of asshattedness.
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Wait - the internet stopped working for you only? Or you ruined the internet for everybody?
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Wait - the internet stopped working for you only? Or you ruined the internet for everybody?
It's OK Wombat, with your 88 cans you are in no danger of losing your internet privileges.
~Paul
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Shhh! You must never mention my tiny cans. You might frighten them away.
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Shhh! You must never mention my tiny cans.
Naaaah... too easy.
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See! Now there are only 87!
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See! Now there are only 87!
When I read that post, there were 85. I gave you another to get you to 86.
Whoever is taking away Wombat's soda, you are not rad!
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I'm pretty sure it would have come up by now if it were so, but I have to ask anyway - Jough, is there a Pepper log to see who gives and who takeths away the carbonated karma?
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That's okay.. someone just took one or two away from me just for replying to your tiny cans.
I feel wombat's pain.
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Naaaah... too easy.
Booooo!
Edit: I didn't steal a can, man. I know what they mean to you.
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There is no log, nor a way to keep track of who gives what cans to whom.
HOWEVER
There is a separate count of cans given and cans taken away. We could set up the board to show either the individual achievement or the total (Given - Taken = Number of Cans).
I think the latter is best.
While my can count is pretty low, I think I have the highest number of given and taken away overall. Wombat, though, has a huge number of given, and probably the best ratio of given-to-taken cans.
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Unless it starts over from scratch, I have to obect to that solution for obvious reasons.
I think it's fine as it is, people need to lighten up a little and understand they, like everything else achewood and TOUAMB are mostly virtual and won't show up on your resume or your CV or transcript or whatever.
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While my can count is pretty low, I think I have the highest number of given and taken away overall.
This is an interesting accomplishment. Although it's not like we didn't already know that our fearless leader inspires strong emotions.
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Ha, -2000 cans means you GO TO THE CORNFIELD!
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I think it's fine as it is, people need to lighten up a little and understand they, like everything else achewood and TOUAMB are mostly virtual and won't show up on your resume or your CV or transcript or whatever.
Are you SURE?!
I'm surprised I haven't had an anxiety dream yet about someone in a graduate school interview asking me about Interweb activities. "So, we googled your name. Just how much of your adolescence did you spend writing Mystery Science Theater 3000 fanfiction? Let's talk about how you failed your family."
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Are you SURE?!
I'm surprised I haven't had an anxiety dream yet about someone in a graduate school interview asking me about Interweb activities. "So, we googled your name. Just how much of your adolescence did you spend writing Mystery Science Theater 3000 fanfiction? Let's talk about how you failed your family."
I google my name every once in a while just to make sure I'm safe.
A few years ago, after I had been unreachable via electronic means for some time, I, well, probably yahooed my name, and this guy that I used to trade bootlegged tapes of live shows with had totally been smearing my name across the tape trading community. It turns out that some shows I had given my friend to master and tape never got out there, and this guy was pissed. He was also French, if I remember correctly. So I contacted him and explained the situation, and sent him the tapes. He was cool with it, after chastising me and reminding me of the sacred trust that exists between tape traders.
That shit's so much easier now with torrent trading.
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He was cool with it, after chastising me and reminding me of the sacred trust that exists between tape traders.
I like to think that this trust is codified in a book bound in human skin.
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This is the best damn dream in the world.
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I had a dream once...and then I woke up in County.
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Speaking of having a dream, is it wrong of me to not give a shit that MLK's widow died today?
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Not particularly.
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I didn't particularly because:
a) What did she ever do on her own? and ...
b) She was pushing 80.
Not that I was happy she passed, but she lived a reasonably long life. We all die.
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Oh, it's not like I'm breaking out the maracas here and having a fiesta because she's dead, but I still watch the news and wonder why they're making a big fuss about someone who was just married to someone great. Government buildings are supposed to be flying their flag at half-mast today in her honour. WTF?
Also, spell check did not want to correct WTF. It knows WTF.
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Speaking of the half-mast issue - is there some kind of website that says whether your flag should be at half-mast or not, and why? Just curious, because it seems like all the people with flags know, and I have no idea - I'll see a flag at half-mast, and start wondering who died or whatever. There ought to be a site.
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Also, spell check did not want to correct WTF. It knows WTF.
This makes me ridiculously happy.
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The flag code specifies people that have mandatory lowerings and for how long (like former presidents) but the President can also order the honor at all gov't buildings for any person s/he deems worthy. Much like how the pres. can order a state funeral for those not legally entitled to one (Renquist's family was offered this but declined, for example).
But an individual person/company can lower their flags for anybody they choose to. Like fire depts do for their own fallen.
I'm guessing that the spell checker will ignore anything that looks like an acronym but as it seems to hate the Tabbrowser extension I can't say for sure.
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I'm aware of the flag code and all that, and I know that individuals have control over their flags, I'm just interested to know if there's somewhere I can go that says "Flag Up: All Clear" or "Half-Mast: Pope Jesus Died" or "No Flag: Nuclear Apocalypse." I think it's weird that everyone with a flag (government building or not) seems to know when to put theirs at half-mast, and I'm always looking around like, "Where do these people find this out?"
I don't think they're all rabid news-watchers or anything.
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Found it. Title 4 Chapter 1 § 7 has the exact rules. As to how people find out when the president announces lowerings for other people you got me. I guess you just listen to the news station on the radio.
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Naw, there's sort of a ripple effect I think, emanating from the Federal Building, Courthouse or Post Office.
Remember who the most likely people to fly flags at home are - they have an interest in this already. My guess is that a high proportion of flag displaying private citizens are military, former military, Federal employees and people who are nationalistic (and therefore are likely have a tendency to conservatism)
My guess is that they are news followers (most right wingers are) and also very conscious of the other flags around town. So they see the flag at the post office, or the Federal building or whatever (they probably work somewhere with a flag) and adjust theirs.
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Plus it's usually pretty obvious that when somebody important (or somebody totally unimportant who happened to snag an important title) dies the flags move down. I wouldn't have necessarily predicted this one, though. And I had no idea about the "until noon" rule for Memorial Day.
It does, however, entertain me that 5 times a year government buildings are required to fly flags in protest of themselves.
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There was a flagpole at my old house. There was also a Canadian flag in the garage. I eventually flew said flag because, what the hell man, why not?
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I have a flagpole but no light to put on it, so I only can fly the flag when I know I'll be home to take it down again before dark.
I like flying the flag at half-staff when someone like Richard Pryor dies.
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It does, however, entertain me that 5 times a year government buildings are required to fly flags in protest of themselves.
I'm not parsing - what are these times?
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Off of the top of my head: Memorial Day, Flag Day, Armed Services Day, July 4th, and Veterans Day. On those days the POW/MIA flag must be flown by gov't facilities. It's the first time in history that a government has official adopted a protest flag that was originally used against it.
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Off of the top of my head: Memorial Day, Flag Day, Armed Services Day, July 4th, and Veterans Day. On those days the POW/MIA flag must be flown by gov't facilities. It's the first time in history that a government has official adopted a protest flag that was originally used against it.
But not even close to the first time a government or commercial entity coopted a symbol or slogan of protest for its own purposes.
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Martin and Coretta are together in heaven on this day.
~Paul
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Off of the top of my head: Memorial Day, Flag Day, Armed Services Day, July 4th, and Veterans Day. On those days the POW/MIA flag must be flown by gov't facilities. It's the first time in history that a government has official adopted a protest flag that was originally used against it.
Huh. And that is legislated? Because I can't recall ever seeing that, but then again, I never really looked, either.
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Speaking of the half-mast issue - is there some kind of website that says whether your flag should be at half-mast or not, and why?
Am I the only one understood this on the sexual end of the spectrum when I first read it?
Just so you know, I'll fly my flag at full-mast whenever I damn well please. And not for Mrs. King, she's old.
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Huh. And that is legislated? Because I can't recall ever seeing that, but then again, I never really looked, either.
I heard it in a story in the Post a few years ago.
And in 1990, Congress adopted the flag as "the symbol of our nation's concern and commitment to resolving as fully as possible the fates of Americans still prisoner, missing and unaccounted for in Southeast Asia."
Congress later passed a law requiring that on six holidays the flag be flown at all post offices, the Capitol, the White House, national cemeteries, military bases and the memorials for the Korean and Vietnam wars. The holidays are Armed Forces Day, Memorial Day, Flag Day, Independence Day, Veterans Day and National POW/MIA Day (the third Friday of September).
but when I searched thomas.loc.gov I couldn't find the bill they were talking about.
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Aren't there things Congress can do (and I'm going to sound like such a putz when I say this, I'm sorry) that aren't exactly laws, per se, but kinda like almost-laws? Something not quite as non-binding as a proclamation that May 23rd is Roast Beef Kazenzakis Day, but not a literal, You Can Be Arrested For Violating This law?
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I don't think so but I'm not sure. I found at least one bill from the 90's that seems to match what the Post says above but according to thomas it was never put to a vote.
I know the President can do stuff like that, such as with Patriot Day which I believe has to be re-proclaimed every year.
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I know the President can do stuff like that, such as with Patriot Day which I believe has to be re-proclaimed every year.
(scoff) I know they won all those Super Bowls, but if he's gonna do it for one team, he should do it for all of them is what I'm saying.
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I know the President can do stuff like that, such as with Patriot Day which I believe has to be re-proclaimed every year.
Come for the discussions of alive stuffed animals, stay for the civics lessons.
Education!
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Let's talk more about dreams.
The night before last, I had a dream in which I was being chased by these hideous wolf-dog-slug things, which kept attacking me. Finally, I realized that the beasts were not real; I had simply gone insane and was imagining them. So now, instead of facing dismemberment by wolf things, I was insane. Then a foreign man in an elevator called me a pussy, and I hulked out and beat his head against the wall. I then woke up, and it took me 20 minutes to stop my brain from gibbering.
Last night, I dreampt that the creepy Tall Man from Phantasm (http://www.michalak.org/fh/phantasm/TallMan3_PH4.jpg) (a movie I have not even SEEN) was chasing me around, again, trying to dismember and kill me.
I think I need more therapy.
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Last night, I dreampt that the creepy Tall Man from Phantasm (http://www.michalak.org/fh/phantasm/TallMan3_PH4.jpg) (a movie I have not even SEEN) was chasing me around, again, trying to dismember and kill me.
I think I need more therapy.
i watched a man get that man tattooed onto his leg.
in this matter i am not shitting you.
he does not own a cd player, but apparently he really likes that movie.
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Wouldn't he just send the little spiky ball thingy flying around to kill you?
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Wouldn't he just send the little spiky ball thingy flying around to kill you?
i think so.
i have not seen the movies.
that might explain some of my flabbergastation at seeing man have that man tattooed upon his very flesh.
note- i have a tattoo, of a fictional, cartoon cat smoking a fictional man's pipe while flipping the bird to mythical demons [not pictured: supposed to be interpreted, may be intrerpreted incorrectly, sigh.], so i'm not amazed at the "getting ink" so much as the subject matter, which again, who am i to talk, but,
dude,
what the fuck?
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I haven't even seen the film. I have seen the action figure of the Tall Man a bunch of times. How weird is that- I had a nightmare about a character I knew only as an action figure called "The Tall Man."
I can only hope that the next action figure that works its way into my fantasy world is this one. (http://www.clubdevo.com/mp/images/store/neca_figure_single.jpg)
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I can only hope that the next action figure that works its way into my fantasy world is this one. (http://www.clubdevo.com/mp/images/store/neca_figure_single.jpg)
Especially if it approaches you JUST LIKE THAT, with the other four heads floating beside it.
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I have not seen (all of) Phantasm. But I have seen Phantasm II. By far the most entertaining thing about Phantasm II is the credits. Viz:
PHANTASM II
Executive Producer: Donald A. Coscarelli
Produced by: Don A. Coscarelli
Co-Producer: D.A. Coscarelli
Written by: D. Anthony Coscarelli
Gaffer: Donald "Don" Coscarelli
Best Boy: Donnie Coscarelli
Catering: Eats by Don
Legal Services: Coscarelli & Coscarelli PLLC
Financed by: The Coscarelli Group
A Coscarelli Studios Production
DONALD ANTHONY COSCARELLI -- Director
It was great.
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note- i have a tattoo, of a fictional, cartoon cat smoking a fictional man's pipe while flipping the bird to mythical demons [not pictured: supposed to be interpreted, may be intrerpreted incorrectly, sigh.]
I think a photographic evidence of this tattoo is called for in this case.
~Paul
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I went to see Phantasm II when it was in theaters. I made out with my girlfriend for the whole movie though, so I don't remember shit about it.
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Last night I had a dream that Wikipedia, in order to stop the abuse and misinformation of its database, started employing "Chroniclers" whose job it was to run around the world collecting info but never interfering or getting noticed.
Only men were allowed and they all had to have their vocal chords and genitals removed so that interaction beyond typing was moot.
I saw one walking by my apartment building and because he was noticed he pulled a gun and shot himself as rivlets of crimson ran through to the gutter. As I went inside I noticed another Chronicler across the street typing up the event on a wireless laptop.
I think I need to start eating better or something.
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That is the greatest internet related dream ever.
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I think I need to start eating better or something.
What, so you can stop having dreams like this? Is you crazy?
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Only men were allowed and they all had to have their vocal chords and genitals removed so that interaction beyond typing was moot.
This is so perfect.
I agree with Miles. Don't change a thing.
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Last night I had a dream that Wikipedia, in order to stop the abuse and misinformation of its database, started employing "Chroniclers" whose job it was to run around the world collecting info but never interfering or getting noticed.
Only men were allowed and they all had to have their vocal chords and genitals removed so that interaction beyond typing was moot.
I saw one walking by my apartment building and because he was noticed he pulled a gun and shot himself as rivlets of crimson ran through to the gutter. As I went inside I noticed another Chronicler across the street typing up the event on a wireless laptop.
I think I need to start eating better or something.
I suggest you copyright this right away, then turn it into a film script, and get Terrt Gilliam to directed.
-enjoy your millions.
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I suggest you copyright this right away, then turn it into a film script, and get Terrt Gilliam to directed.
-enjoy your millions.
Should it bother me that even my dreamsa re kafkesque?
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Why should it bother you? That's the best dream ever.
The night between my big day of interviews at Cornell and the wrap-up, I dreamt that they decided to do pop-quiz interviews that morning with fictional characters. In the dream, my reaction was "this can't be! They said that interviews were over -- they can't go back on that! Graduate department's honor, man!!" When I woke up, it took me almost fifteen minutes of consciousness for the thought "... also, fictional characters don't exist and thus could not interview me unless I go Daniel-Handler-insane" to hit my brain. Damn good times.
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Should it bother me that even my dreamsa re kafkesque?
Does that mean that the rest of your life is so surreal that you would like some respite in your dreams? Is your every day life even more messed up than this?
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Does that mean that the rest of your life is so surreal that you would like some respite in your dreams? Is your every day life even more messed up than this?
You have no idea. Half the time I don't even want to type it up lest I'm being thought to be a paranoid delusional or a liar.
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golfhaus-- Roast Beef day is the day after my birthday! hoorah!
Certain of my friends got all miffed that my school didn't fly the flag at half-mast when Mrs King died. As if the school specifically thought "screw her, what did she do?"
I actually asked "what, is there like a website they should have checked? How do they know when to put it at half-mast?"
misterqueue-- I love you. that dream is beautiful.
My vote for most disturbing dream goes to my friend... she dreampt for like a month straight that she was pregnant. and then she dreampt that she was in labor, had the baby, etc. She dreampt that she was breast feeding the baby.
She woke up in the middle of the night, and thought that the baby would be there. She couldn't understand where it was, and she couldn't stop crying.
She was depressed for like a week. Because she could remember that feeling (the one your parents tell you you'll get when/if you have a kid). Damn. It took her wayyy too long to convince her subconscious that it had just been a dream. (do you know what I mean? when you're upset, and you just have it lurking in the back of your mind all day?)
also: my girlfriend consistently has dreams that are essentially long chains of jungian archetypes. They're the sort of dreams that I used to think only characters in novels had.
"my mom was walking on the beach with me, when I was a baby, and dropped me in the water. I was raised by these old people, who kept me in the attic... (etc)".
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All of my dreams are in black and white, and nothing really happens. I am usually just sitting across from an old woman who is reading a newspaper. We do not speak.
Sometimes I dream that I am feeding babies to mountain lions, but usually it's just sitting at a table, watching someone else do something mundane.
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My vote for most disturbing dream goes to my friend... she dreampt for like a month straight that she was pregnant. and then she dreampt that she was in labor, had the baby, etc. She dreampt that she was breast feeding the baby.
She woke up in the middle of the night, and thought that the baby would be there. She couldn't understand where it was, and she couldn't stop crying.
She was depressed for like a week. Because she could remember that feeling (the one your parents tell you you'll get when/if you have a kid). Damn. It took her wayyy too long to convince her subconscious that it had just been a dream. (do you know what I mean? when you're upset, and you just have it lurking in the back of your mind all day?)
She should get hypnotized and have a past life regression. I'm betting she lost a kid along the way.
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My vote for most disturbing dream goes to my friend... she dreampt for like a month straight that she was pregnant. and then she dreampt that she was in labor, had the baby, etc. She dreampt that she was breast feeding the baby.
She woke up in the middle of the night, and thought that the baby would be there. She couldn't understand where it was, and she couldn't stop crying.
She was depressed for like a week. Because she could remember that feeling (the one your parents tell you you'll get when/if you have a kid). Damn. It took her wayyy too long to convince her subconscious that it had just been a dream. (do you know what I mean? when you're upset, and you just have it lurking in the back of your mind all day?)
Daang. That, sir, is impressive. And I know "lurking in the back of the mind all day" dreams -- today I had a dream that, in some kind of vague post-apocalyptic future, I had joined a bizarre cult whose initiation rituals involved mutilation and poisoning with a substance that accelerated aging, such that everyone only lived for a week after joining. (This was explained to me, inexplicably and hilariously, via an animated montage displaying the average life cycle of a cult member.) I spent most of the dream freaking out ineffectually and attempting to fix things, until eventually I ended up setting the building in which the cult was situated on fire. (If I recall correctly, I did this by realizing I had fire in my inventory and typing "light room" into a text-based adventure interface. Inexplicable!) Sure enough, all of my back-brain processing power today has been dedicated to trying to puzzle this one out, especially in light of most of my dreams lately being straightforward anxiety crap ("oh god MORE INTERVIEWS").
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She should get hypnotized and have a past life regression. I'm betting she lost a kid along the way.
Did she have an abortion at some point? I know several women who have had hell of issues with that after the fact.
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Sure enough, all of my back-brain processing power today has been dedicated to trying to puzzle this one out, especially in light of most of my dreams lately being straightforward anxiety crap ("oh god MORE INTERVIEWS").
Um, what's the puzzle, V? That sure sounds like a dream about grad school to me. That is exactly how I remember it.
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Um, what's the puzzle, V? That sure sounds like a dream about grad school to me. That is exactly how I remember it.
Fair enough. I did spend last Saturday night getting drunk with a guy who wouldn't stop talking about his nature documentary idea and how much his research advisor sucked; I suppose that's something like a cult initiation.
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And then you spend five years freaking out ineffectually and attempting to fix things. And at least wishing you could set the building on fire.
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alohadawg-- she's like 17 (or maybe, newly 18.) She's never even kissed a boy (or girl).
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Last night I dreamed I was working late and eating an Arch Deluxe, which is really odd as I haven't been to McDonald's in many moons. There was a ridiculous number of pickles on the bottom of the burger part. I stared in horror at what must've been like 2 inches of pickles.
As I pulled away a tiny man jumped on my burger and explained to me why. "Y'see.. the pickles are for flavor AND espionnage. They know... they know!" I said the whole thing was ridiculous and I would not stand for it. To which he replied, "Well what about funding a project I have instead?"
He showed me a video game called Virtual Bangin' which was essentially about Fuckin'. His idea was that the lonely gamer could invite a girl over and get his message of desire across without social skills. I replied that playing a game called Virtual Bangin' was no substitute for social skills but if he changed the name to Bangin' by Proxy then he had a deal.
Other ways I don't recommend trying to be all cutesy about your desire for rutting which I know from experience:
Grabbing your ladyfriend's ass in the shower and screaming "Where is your god now?!"
Dancing naked while singing the theme song to 3...2...1...contact
Doing a puppet show without your hands
These also should not be tried on a random strangerlady to begin with as that would probably land you in jail anyway.
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Other ways I don't recommend trying to be all cutesy about your desire for rutting which I know from experience:
Grabbing your ladyfriend's ass in the shower and screaming "Where is your god now?!"
Dancing naked while singing the theme song to 3...2...1...contact
Doing a puppet show without your hands
These also should not be tried on a random strangerlady to begin with as that would probably land you in jail anyway.
Sounds like somebody went to see Puppetry of the c*ck last weekend.
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no no no.. this was... this was years ago.
I should sue them for copyright infringement if the only other party witnessed to the horrible event weren't currently in Arsenal Asylum.
Man I wish I was joking.
To be fair I didn't put her there.
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Yeah, she put HERSELF there for having the bad sense to hook up with the likes of YOU.
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I would not be surpised in the least. It's on Arsenal St. in St. Louis and well... just look at the fuck*ng place. (http://genealogyinstlouis.accessgenealogy.com/hospitals.htm)
It looks like it's out of some damn Lewis Carrollesque Victorian world gone awry with the needles in the skull and the strapping down and the prodding with waterpiks.
Is it bad when I have an ex-gf AND family in there? Cause.. uh... cause... just wondering.
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Well yeah but... When they finally lock me away can we make sure it's in a place with nice old architecture and history, at least? I couldn't stand going crazy in one of those sterile modern buildings.
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Goddamn... the pickles, the little man with espionage and funding for a game idea, the asylum. You just win Q, you just win it all. Can we get this guy another prize? Or at least upgrade him to 'SirQueue' or something.
Also V, yeah I'm with you I would definitely want my descent into madness to be punctuated by sudden beliefs I am in my early nineteenth century novel of choice (as opposed to sterile modern buildings which would make me think I'm in one flew over the cuckoos nest which would be interesting. So long as I didn't imagine I was in Girl, interupted. Then I'd just have to kill everyone I thought was Wynona Ryder.
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I think 'MisterQueue, Esq.' may be appropriate.
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Oh you guys!
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Oh you guys!
Oh stop trying to be so modest, I know you love the attention! I KNOW!
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Oh stop trying to be so modest, I know you love the attention! I KNOW!
Pish tosh.. I blush like a schoolgirl on a sybian any time anyone says my name!
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misterqueue, esq?
...you're a lawyer?
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No no.. TOUAMB already has a lawyer who guards our darkened back alleys; fighting injustice and the penal system alike. I won't mention his name though, because it fills criminals hearts with terror and damsels hearts with passion.
I'm more of a techie corporate whore.
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fills... damsels hearts with passion.
Yeah, right.
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Last night I had a dream that I was trapped in the musical/movie RENT. All the people kept on singing and dancing and getting AIDS, they were really in my face about it, and I was getting more an more annoyed. Why didn't they know they were in a musical and that the whole situation was not real? Why did they keep making a big deal out of things that are not a big deal? Why did they create such conflicts in their relationships? I was so annoyed with everyone, then I somehow got forced to be in a big musical number with everyone dancing on tables, and everyone else was fuck*ng up the choreography. I was so angry with the stupid Bohemian artsy types.
Then I woke up and came to work at the theatre.
It's weird because I love my job and my coworkers...
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Was S&M in your Rent theatre troupe?
By which I mean Sound and Motion, not the other kind. He seems like he'd fit right into that dream anyway.
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I've never heard of Sound and Motion, and searches of google and Rolling Stone do not quell my curiosity. There is a Canadian socially conscious dance troupe called Sound+Motion, but you refer to a single person...
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I've never heard of Sound and Motion, and searches of google and Rolling Stone do not quell my curiosity. There is a Canadian socially conscious dance troupe called Sound+Motion, but you refer to a single person...
Remember which board you're reading...
http://www.achewood.com/index.php?date=02092006
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I still stand by my statement that there's nothing more boring than another person's dreams, but as I haven't written anything of substance in a bit of a while and I need to write this one down I'll make an exception and bore the shit out of all of you.
Last night I dreamed that I was in a band called The Rather Dappers. (With that name I really wish we were a rap group, but I digress.) There was upwards of 20 people in this ensemble and we all wore vintage Victorian/Edwardian attire. 3 of the guys played saws. As I sat in our dressing room waiting to go on stage for a performance, my friend Brian (who was in the band of course) burst into the room.
"Look at this!" he shouted throwing a Billboard magazine down. I looked and at the top was "Consumption Blues (Milady's got em)" by The Rather Dappers. We laughed and high fived one another, which looked rather strange since we were both wearing tight frock coats. I flipped on the TV idly and oddly enough a talk show was on featuring parents complaining about the image we were giving their teens.
A woman was talking in a thick fakey Irish accent for some reason. She said, "I mean, me daughter's spendin' all ur money on snuffboxes and brooches! 'Sinuff to drive me ma'!"
As I wondered how we were going to spin this one Brian burst through the door again. "I've lost my cufflinks!"
The next 10 minutes were spent frantically trying to find them. I remember we were concerned we'd never make it to the stage in time.
There wasn't really a solid punch out ending to this though, I just woke up. Sometimes my brain disappoints me like that.
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So you dream like you're watchng yourself on TV? I ask because you said it looked funny to high five in what sounds like Edwardian gear.
I only dream in the first person. Is this unusual?
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So you dream like you're watchng yourself on TV? I ask because you said it looked funny to high five in what sounds like Edwardian gear.
I only dream in the first person. Is this unusual?
It was first person, but Brian looked funny doing it so I extrapolated the information from that I suppose. In the dream it made sense, but then, it was a dream.
I think most people dream in 1st person. I've only had a couple handfulls that were 3rd person.
What I'd really like to see is a dream in 2nd person. :P
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I dreamed that I got a present from Onstad. The package contained an autographed copy of a big full color book that he had published, and the keys to a house. He had built me a big beautiful house, nice and well built not cheap and tacky like most new houses seem to me. And the best part was that in the living room was a built-in double row of glass terrariums, already set up with running water and moss and ready for me to just pop in some frogs and newts.
I was showing the house to people and I realized that I hadn't thanked him for it. I thought I couldn't thank him for such a big present just with an email. I had never called him on the phone so that felt weird. I started to write a hand-written thank you note, but then I thought I really ought to thank him in person. In the dream he had an almost identical house only a few blocks away. I was thinking that I should probably go in the middle of the day when his wife was at work because I'd never met her and it would be more awkward if she answered the door.
I can't remember, I think the dream ended before I really went over there to talk to him.
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Damn Wombat I had an Achewood related dream last night too that was sort of similar. I wasn't going to mention it because the details are all so vague because my achewood dream was followed by a more memorable dream involving a girl I used to know. But the achewood dream had something to do with AD and I was going to send him an e-mail or letter or something and somehow it was going to get him in trouble with his wife or some shit like that. Whatever it was I was going to do against Dawg I wound up not doing it. I remember was considering it when the dream switched gears to the old girlfriend and it never returned to AD. It's funny how you can not think about someone for years and then they will appear in your dream completely intact, looks, dress, voice, manner, exactly as I remember them. I would never be able to conjur such a vivid recollection of this person while awake.
~Paul
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you will laugh at me.
I dreampt that my life was screwed up because of the dvorak thing. Everything I said, or that anyone said to me, came out in scrambled letters. it was horrible.
also, right before I fell asleep, I had this peaceful feeling of sleepiness... which turned into this opressive weight. i thought to myself "I'm going to die in my sleep. Oh well, I've had a full life." And then there was this wierd half-dream-half-awake thing where I thought about some old, female writer who was about to die in her sleep.
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Frogs and newts?
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Frogs and newts?
You got a problem with that?
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So you dream people build you houses as presents?
Man, I thought *I* was ego-centric and all... :P
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Slow news day, nothing to talk about. Strip returns Tuesday.
~Paul
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As long as Pat wasn't there acting as terrarium docent...
Oh Lord, you have no idea how much that would be like real life at a zoo.
So you dream people build you houses as presents?
Really, I normally dream about bakeries, and being late because of having to get ready in places where the shower is bizarre in some way. I have no idea where this came from.
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Really, I normally dream about bakeries, and being late because of having to get ready in places where the shower is bizarre in some way. I have no idea where this came from.
I know why *I* dream of bakeries, but I haven't the foggiest why you would.
Furthermore, late as in late.. or late as in late?
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Furthermore, late as in late.. or late as in late?
As in dead? No, not poison gas showers. Weird bathrooms, with showers that spray all over the toilet bowl, or the bed, or are in front of a huge plate glass window with no curtains. Unusable in bizarre ways.
I suppose I dream about bakeries for the prosaic reason that I spend a good deal of my waking life thinking about baked goods. I know, millennia of evolution of the human brain and it comes to this. Sad.
But who cares about my usual boring dreams. Why the heck did I dream that Onstad built me a house decorated with frog enclosures?
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That's not how I meant late either, but I'll let it slide. Continue with your 'Stad obsession.
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All my dreams have been about wacky fantasy crap lately. A few nights ago I dreamed that I was LARPing some kind of reverse Angband where, as Satan (or maybe Morgoth; I'm not sure) I had battled my way out of the depths and now had to race to the bell tower at my college to signal my victory before I was caught. To represent my role, I was wearing a big black cape and carrying around a heavy costume-type sword as I ran through campus. There was an immense sense of urgency, even though nobody actually seemed to be pursuing me (or even concerned that I was running through foot traffic in a black cape with a big ol' sword), and the dream ended just when I reached the bell tower. Eerie.
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I really do have dreams where apocalyptic giant machines are mowing us all down. Sometimes, I am the machine.
I hope everyone who has played Half Life 2 has nightmares about those fuck*ng poison and fast zombies. I have not wet the bed yet, though the daily nightmare of a skeleton-like being galloping towards you screaming horribly means it can only be a matter of time.
Sometimes I have nice dreams when I'm seeing the Buzzcocks live in concert (when they were young'uns) and Pete Shelley grabs me from the audience and kisses me.
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This morning, right before I woke up, I heard "I go tanning to work out issues I have with my midget wrestlers". This was spoken by a female bigfoot who was lying in a tanning bed with those goggle things on. The "camera panned out" to reveal two little people who were indeed wearing Mexican Wrestling masks and grimacing.
Jeneane Garofalo was sitting near by painted green and wearing a muscle suit in an attempt to be the Incredible Hulk. She was laughing hysterically.
I really wish I knew what the rest of the dream was about.
(Thread Necromanc'd!)
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This morning, right before I woke up, I heard "I go tanning to work out issues I have with my midget wrestlers". This was spoken by a female bigfoot who was lying in a tanning bed with those goggle things on. The "camera panned out" to reveal two little people who were indeed wearing Mexican Wrestling masks and grimacing.
Jeneane Garofalo was sitting near by painted green and wearing a muscle suit in an attempt to be the Incredible Hulk. She was laughing hysterically.
I really wish I knew what the rest of the dream was about.
(Thread Necromanc'd!)
Only in Q's world do Mascarita Sagrada and Janeane Garofalo intersect.
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Yesterday, I dreamed that I was a student in a huge impersonal high school (nothing like my small and easy to navigate highschool of yore), and that I had forgotten my backpack in a classroom. My backpack contained all the information I needed to study for a test I had the next day in a Math class I hadn't bothered to attend. A class that I had to pass if I wanted to graduate. The school was huge and all the classrooms looked the same, and were full of classes I was interrupting, so I couldn't find the room I'd left my bag in, nevermind the bag itself. A disapproving authoritarian principal, who looked vaguely like someone I'd seen in a movie, and was several feet taller than me was getting more and more pissed off at me as I tried to find the room. to avoid his disapproving stare, I ended up in back hallways and eventually got lost in basement -like places with pipes and steam. I never did find the room or my bag.
I thought high school-based anxiety dreams ended after you graduated highschool, but apparently graduating high school and university and excelling in my career field are not enough to keep this dream away. I have had several similar dreams, most notably this one and another like it both in the past week.
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I thought high school-based anxiety dreams ended after you graduated highschool, but apparently graduating high school and university and excelling in my career field are not enough to keep this dream away. I have had several similar dreams, most notably this one and another like it both in the past week.
I'm no psychologist, but I'd say this is Indonesia related anxiety.
~Paul
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I'm no psychologist, but I'd say this is Indonesia related anxiety.
~Paul
Good point. Clearly the backback represents your passport/plane tickets and the huge high school represents an airport. The authoritarian principal represents having seen Ferris Bueller too many times.
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just a minute ago, I awoke from a dream that my two cats were colluding to kill my in my sleep. the fatter, masculine cat was sitting on my face, and the smaller, feminine cat was kind of on my arms so I couldn't move. In the dream, they were apparently heavy/strong enough that I could not simply lift them off.
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I still have the high school dream and the college variant, but only at stressful times. Usually when a big grant was due or some big report I had procrastinated on needed to be written or something like that. Only work-related stuff triggers it; life stresses don't seem to affect my dreams.
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Well the most delightful Hobot has convinced me that I should share the dream I woke up to the other day, so here I present you myself, unedited:
"I woke up at 6:30 this morning by yelling "Suck me off Jennifer Grey!" all angrily, which is odd but not for the reasons you would think. For one thing, I don't even like Jennifer Grey. I mean, she was in what... Dirty Dancing and that's it?
Secondly, I wasn't even dreaming about Jennifer Gray doing anything of the sort. I was instead dreaming that I was having tea with a monkey that was dressed in a Ship's Captain uniform. We were discussing how best to go about invading Byzantium (leftovers from the Roman conquerer game I had been playing I suspect... oh my Ancient Rome obsession!) when I pointed out that his plan was a bit foolish as his ships would be blockaded with the winter seas. He began howling and throwing chairs at me.. and that's when I woke up and yelled out about Jennifer Grey blowjobs apparently."
I hope it was worth it.
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I just remembered another dream I had last night. It consisted of me being in that half-awake state, and hearing the following:
*phone ringing*
my mom: "oh, hi $SO!"
*vague noise of speech heard over phone (VNOSHOP)*
mum: "wow, you're calling daniel all the way from Italy? too bad he's still asleep!"
*VNOSHOP*
mum: "no, I'm sorry, I couldn't possibly wake him. I guess he'll see you when you come home!"
*VNOSHOP, sounding upset*
mum: "oh, you're staying there longer? oh well. I'll be sure to tell daniel to call you back."
*VNOSHOP*
"goodness! I forgot! you're in italy. I guess he won't call you, then. bye! *hangs up*"
so I woke up feeling pissed at my mum, and it took me a few hours to realize that it was because of a dream.
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some long thing
That had neither blowjobs nor monkeys in it. I want my life back!
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Not long ago, while I was still in Iowa, I awoke my father in the middle of the night by screaming "Goddamn!" before mumbling and whimpering and lapsing back into silence. Apparently I have night terrors.
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sorry, Q. I found it humorous that apparently my subconscious thinks of my mum as someone who will cheerfully fuck things up.
I guess it just isn't weird enough for you, you little shit.
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sorry, Q. I found it humorous that apparently my subconscious thinks of my mum as someone who will cheerfully fuck things up.
I guess it just isn't weird enough for you, you little shit.
Hey hey.. it is alright.. I am a downtown man.. things from your whitebread world just aren't going to be the same y'know?
:P
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I spelled weird right, and then I used the insult that you used to call me! did you get that part?
I am always worried that people will think I am trying to be mean/angry for real, instead of realizing that I am just kidding around. I do not actually get that worked up about things. on the internet.
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No.. I got it.. yes.. it was very good. It was a perfect.. response!
man.. it's like training a puppy or something.
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You two should get married and have each others' retarded babies.
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some batshitinsane monkey-jennifer grey-beej shit
I'd never been so afraid of Q until he started talking about training puppies.
Man, I've done that. Exactly.
(btw: Jennifer Grey was also in Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and later had rhinoplasty that rendered her unrecognizable. Education.)
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So, since this thread has been officially awoken from the dead, I will share the tale of my morning.
I woke up at 6:30, knowing that I would actually have to get up in twenty minutes. I then proceeded to go back to sleep. My alarm went off at 6:50, and I turned it off more or less promptly, thinking that I had sufficiently awoken. Much to my suprise and chagrin, I later heard my dad calling my name, as if through a heavy fog of muffled sound. It was after 7:30, and I was very late. I could hear him calling my name, but I couldn't do anything about it. My dad told me later that he had a very hard time rousing me, that he had to say my name many times before I responded with a mighty, bodily twitch, and awoke with a start. I think he must have interrupted REM sleep, or something.
I am still not awake, as evidenced by this criminally boring post.
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man, Hobot, I am surprised at you, talking about your chagrin out in public like this. didn't your mama teach you no manners?
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Another anxiety dream last night... though I don't really remember it. Earlier last night, when I was still awake and reading ("American Psycho" is, FYI, not good bedtime reading) my SO was lying next to me, and he actually started jazz scatting in his sleep, then singing... then mumbling into silence. It was pretty awesome. As always, I'm sure he wont remember it, but I will tell him.
The anxiety dreams actually have nothing to do with my trip to Indonesia, and everything to do with me being in the final moments of re-writing my play and knowing that there are a couple of "moments" that don't work but can't be cut... I told the artistic director that I'd have what I hoped would be the last draft of the script into her by the end of the month. I've written myself into a corner and have spent days trying to find a solution. Turns out that there is no way out, so I will just spruce up the shitty transition moments with fancy things for the actors to do to distract from the crap-ness of this. I now know that this is definitely not the last draft... but... I don't know. I just want to be done with it at this point. I wish my desk was in some dank basement, not next to a sunny and lovely view of the summer. I basically feel that I am missing out on "real" life when I'm writing.
Also, I had a double nose bleed this morning. Stupid air conditioning.
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("American Psycho" is, FYI, not good bedtime reading) my SO was lying next to me, and he actually
GODDAMMIT! What is it with people and this book suddenly? You are the 4th person TODAY I have heard about with this book. The last one was a coworker who asked if she should check it out. (She always comes to me with book recommendations for some reason.. I am like the last stop on the way to her reading list.)
I said, "Well sure, if you want to read J.G. Ballard but without any substance whatsoever, yeah go ahead."
Seriously though, what is it? Are they making ANOTHER movie out of it or something?
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You bled from two noses?
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man, I get nosebleeds all the time. they suck.
also: Lewis Black said that anyone who says they enjoy the writing process is insane. he said that he basically has to lock himself in a room for long enough that he just hates himself for wasting so much time by procrastinating.
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Yeah, the writing process is painful and unpleasant. I think most writers like having things that they have written, but do not necessarily like writing them.
It's like if you enjoy eating good food, you may or may not enjoy cooking it.
Or if you like a clean room, you may not want to actually clean it yourself, but you are happy when it is done.
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I enjoy writing. Why do people write if it is painful? I have always wondered about this. There are many other jobs you could do. If you just like to read things, you can always read things other people have written, just like you can eat meals other people have cooked.
Of course 'writing' and 'needing to rewrite something by a deadline because someone is waiting for it' are different things so I do not mean this as a comment on sideshow's original post.
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jough-- the update of the situation is that I am going to Man Up and clean my room. damn.
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I wonder what your mom would have said if you paid someone else to clean your room, perhaps while you were out visiting with your girl.
"Okay, I'm outtahere. Maria here is going to clean my room while I'm gone. She doesn't speak English, so just whack her with this stick if you need to communicate with her."
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Jough: Yes, I bled from two noses. Actually I had a double nostril nose bleed and the SO had a single nostril nose bleed. So it was a double nose, three nostril nose bleed. We're having a drought here... I saw a news thing where a farmer stuck his arm into a crack in his field that was almost to his elbow.
Jough and Wombat: The need to tell stories, for me at least is a somewhat desperate act. It's actually a lot like vomiting when you're really drunk - you don't really want to but it's urgently necessary to let the poisen out and a deep relief when over. It's sometimes a really enjoyable experience, but sometimes not. With the five years I devoted to this play, a lot of the fun writing happened about a year ago. The past 5 months or so have been all about fixing the problems that were pointed out to me via my dramaturge. It's basically the post writing, editing process that I really hate.
After I wrote the previous post I sort of fixed the problem, or at least made it... better. I wrote in a mini scene where one character, dressed with Halloween-style-Indian costume lobs suction cup arrows at another character. I've just got a final re-read and polish-up and then I'll send it in on Monday.
Also, I've already started my next play - research for it will require me to go to church, participate in ancient pantheistic rituals, and also travel deep into a wooded area of Quebec. It's going to be a laugh-riot compaired to the last one.
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yeah, jough, in the depressing conclusion of our Saga, I cleaned my room. but the girl never called back (I had left her a message). and I was told by a friend of hers that she is bothered by how often I call her, so I decided not to call again.
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I was dreaming that there was this Korean kid (well he was about 19.. so not really a kid per se) on a talk show devoted to what happened when their village was wiped out and the military ran an orphanage for him. He was telling the story of how his sister was buried in an unmarked grave next to the place and that there was a Marine who was going to take him there the first day to "get it out of the way."
"What we'll do" he said putting on a voice much like the Drill Seargent from Full Metal Jacket, "is negotiate a left turn and head directly toward the back where you will have 15 minutes of grief. After this, you are to forget her and move on because I cannot have any pussies in my squad!" His eyes were sort of bemused, but also very sad and you could tell that the "audience" fell in love with him immediately. He was indeed charming.
However...
The entire time he was speaking there was this other guy with his arm on the shoulder of the show's host. This guy totally distracted me from the poignant story because he was metal. It was kind of like he had put aluminium siding around his body. He wasn't smooth like Destro (http://www.misterqueue.com/destro.bmp) but he had a similar look, just with the shingling and the occasional nail to hold it up. The absurdity of this metalman nodding solemnly haunted the shit out of me.
Then a truck blew the loudest horn I've ever heard from the highway that is about 100 yards from my bed and I shot up, startled. I tried and tried to fall back asleep so I could find out more about this Metal Man, but he would not come back. Now I'm all agitated.
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Oh! Oh! I am truly a geek because I just had my first ever TOUAMBIE dream last night. It was pretty awesome. Here's how it went:
It was day time, but the sky was dark grey like it is just before a major storm. I was walking along in front of this suburban style house with Paul, and he was being really sweet and funny, and I was just so happy that we all decided to get together. Paul and I rounded the corner to walk behind the house, and he was joking as we waved at Jough. Behind and surrounding the backyard/garden was a huge corn field that spread out in all directions, and I was surprised because I thought we were in the suburbs, so I didn't quite look over at Jough. "Oh, there's Joe. Isn't it funny that he made such a fuss about his name, when really it's just Joe? Hi Joe!" Paul said, and Jough waved at us. I didn't really get a good look at him, but he was blond. That's all I remember about him. Jough was on the edge of a large mucky tilled garden behind the house, sort of working on the garden. He was using his hands, in large gloves, but had some tools around too. And the mucky garden was full of people, all very muddy, who were working in the garden - these were all of the posters. I couldn't recognize any of them, but then I realized that that made sense since I hadn't actually met any of them in person before. They looked like plantation slaves, and they were all caught up in their work, and had mud up to their knees. Most paid no mind to Paul or I, and Jough was busy making sure everyone was working, but it was understood that he and Paul and I would hang out together later, and probably have beer and something to eat. Paul and I walked around the garden, toward the corn field. He and I were chatting, but I was too distracted by his accent and wasn't really listening to the content of the conversation, so I was a little confused, and just agreed and smiled. We walked into the corn, and turned down a row of corn, where Aloha Dawg, with the face and body of the man, was crouched naked on the muddy ground, sort of snarling, and I thought that this made sense for a bulldog, and was not afraid. Paul said something about it being best to ignore him when he was in this sort of mood, so we walked past him, and his face turned into his avatar, which for whatever reason, scared me, so I was happy to leave. We kept walking, and I was noticing how muddy the row we were walking down was - my feet were sort of sticking in a suction-y way to the mud. We came up to Mr. Q who was also crouched in the mud, wearing only white boxer shorts, sort of sculpting the mud, and he was really hyper and happy to see us, but when he and Paul started talking, I realized that I couldn't understand either of them. I tried harder to listen, but I couldn't understand them. It seems that they were talking about what Mr. Q was doing to do with the mud, or at least about all the mud. I remember thinking that it was so cool that I was having this dream, and that I couldn't wait to post about it. I got a really strong urge to go find Jough again, and I was so happy that he was really just "Joe," and that not everything was so complicated, but I was scared of getting lost in the corn. I mentioned to Mr. Q that Paul had found out that Jough was just Joe, and he laughed, but he was still only speaking in a way I couldn't comprehend, so I just sort of stood around waiting for Paul to guide me out.
And that was my dream.
Even better than the dream, I woke up this morning, made all the final edits on my play, and sent it in to the artistic director. I'm DONE! Yay. Probably this will put an end to the fucked up dreams though.
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Right, so Jough was treating us like plantation slaves? And we could not appease him even with all our hard work?
Dear. God. I. Am. Not. A. Religious. Man. But. Please. Help. Me. See. The. Connection. Here.
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That is awesome.
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Yeah.. I... I am just glad someone is dreaming about me I guess.
Even if I have to be a mud sculptor.
Wait... come to think of it.. that doesn't sound like a bad gig. *Strips to his boxer shorts*
P.S. I'm pretty sure that it wasn't me, but that it was your SO and you just got confused. It's okay... we laugh about it all the time together, your SO and I.
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I just want to add that had you not awoken Side Show, I would have led you out of the muddy cornfield.
~Paul
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Smells, you should tell them about those other dreams about me you had. Wink wink, nudge nudge, etc.
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Smells, you should tell them about those other dreams about me you had. Wink wink, nudge nudge, etc.
"No, Jough! Don't kick the puppiessssss" -wakes up to concerned look on SO's face-
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dang, mel, even your dreams are awesome.
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That dream is just plain brilliant. The slaves thing is just perfect and now Q is permanently associated with that guy from close encounters.
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Thanks all... I'd like to take credit for it, but it was my subconscious brain that did it.
Last night, my dream was that several heavy key chains with many keys hovered over mine and my SO's heads, just waiting to fall and smack us in the face. I was filled with dread at the prospect of the keys hitting us in our sleeping faces and I awoke waving my hands over my head, the keys vanishing.