I Think I’ve Gone On Vacation From My Mind…
Last weekend I spent the entire weekend with my friends, at a bar, where they were playing music. I danced, laughed, rubbed, bumped, and rocked out with many a folk – including some who got the wrong idea. It was exhilarating and just plain fun.
Then, this weekend, my parents took Autumn to the beach for a few nights and Autumn’s dad and I flew to San Francisco. It was weird and strange and we spent a good deal of time, like we always do, trying to figure out what our relationship really is – are we together and going to stick it out or are we both really just waiting for something/someone/anything else to come along and distract us from our main job right now – raising our daughter as together as we can.
But, we had fun. I’m a history nut and I loved seeing historical sites. We are both literature fanatics and we spend most of our time at City Light Books.
We walked and walked and walked like we always do. But every night in our, so very Barton Fink-ish, hotel (no less the Hotel Mark Twain,) I dreamt of kissing, smoking, making out and having fun fetishist moments with my friends (and I wasn’t on anything either!)
The first night I dreamt that I was in my small hometown with a friend and he was driving my grandparent’s car. I was looking all over for my grandparents (who raised me) but I couldn’t find them and then I realized, of course, they are dead and not here any longer. Then we pulled into a parking lot and I thought I saw my sister’s grandmother (we have different fathers) but it wasn’t her because, of course, she died this year and is no longer there. I was so upset and crying and I got back in the car and started smoking which tasted like rotting flesh and making out with my friend. I could feel myself on the verge of falling right into this person but I stopped myself and looked at my baby girl in the backseat of the car sleeping (not in a car seat) but sort of being held by blankets and the spirit of my grandmother. The sky was very dark and ominous and then people started to line up at our car and hand me wounded animals and somehow I was able to heal them. I didn’t know I could do this and I was so shocked but ready to help in any way.
The next night I dreamt that my good friend whom I really love and do not see anymore had this really freaky fetishist party and I was lost in the sweaty, slimy, sexyness of it all.
Is this what happens to you when you get to sleep for three nights straight without getting woken up every three hours by your sweet, joyous, loving child?
But then on the way home all I could think about was waste and how wasteful we all are and how much fuel it took to fly me to my vacation destination and how many cups were thrown away and or washed so that I could drink on my vacation and how many people had to “serve” me on my vacation and how much they fucking hate their jobs and how dirty the city is because of tourists and how awful America is and how far we’ve seperated ourselves from the “land” and how we don’t have the faintest idea of how to start to fix any of it because we’re all too busy buying things and “looking” a certain way and “talking” a certain way and being too fucking cool for our own good.
I guess my mind is back from vacation (someone please bring the make-out session dreams back.)