Thursday, January 17, 2008

Dreaming with color and texture and form

I'm lounging with my sister and some guy in this dark abandoned lot where somehow everything is soft and spongy, you can just lie back and enjoy the ruined buildings leading to the sky. This is where I remember Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Pressure, which is a trick for understanding the order of the downtown Seattle streets, although there are two of each letter except maybe J, are there two of J? So it's still hard to remember whether Marion comes before Madison, and things like that. I have trouble enough remembering whether Pike comes before Pine, I mean which one is West, no wait Pike and Pine run West-East, which is also hard to remember because the whole time I lived in Seattle I thought Broadway went West-East, but really it's North-South but all the maps show it horizontal and I guess I forgot to look at the compass in the corner or, you know what, I don't think I thought in terms of North-South East-West until I moved to New York, there it finally made sense because of the Manhattan grid.

These are the kinds of things I think when I'm in bed, maybe trying to sleep or maybe trying to get up its funny because the waking thoughts about directions in Seattle blend in with the more impossible lounging, and I feel like I'm awake the whole time -- every time I get to the point in the dream where I can really relax, then my shoulder starts to hurt so I have to turn to the other side. Usually I say that pain doesn't wake me up it’s my brain, a different kind of pain, but now I guess pain wakes me up. Except that I don't notice I'm in pain until I'm awake.

Meanwhile, I keep having to rearrange the covers because I get so sweaty, I mean my comforter’s super-light, but still I have to pull it above my feet and wrap it around my head so that air gets in between my legs also. Otherwise I'm way too warm, I mean it's not warm in my apartment I never turn the heat on or it destroys my sinuses. When I get up to cook, I have to put three sweatshirts on. It's my worst sinus day in a while, looking out at the sky I can hardly feel anything except all that tension above my eyes, I'm trying not to use the neti pot for a few days because now the inside of my nose is drying out I think that makes things worse.

Rose sends me some of her collages, I mean I requested a few and she had them matted on silver mats inside silver frames, they sparkle. I've always loved her art because as a kid she taught me to dream with color and texture and form, like when she took us to that store I think it was called the button factory or maybe that's just what Rose called it, where they had buttons in huge bins and you could pick whatever you wanted. They had other stuff too, like metal plates and broken computer parts and cardboard rollers and weirder things that you had to create a purpose for, I mean the purpose was whatever you wanted it to be that's what made it special.

But, a few decades later, things are different between me and my grandmother I wasn't sure if looking at her art would just make me sad or sorrowful or claustrophobic like she'd invaded my space. But so far it's kind of exciting, except somehow this one handmade paperwork started to scare me when I woke up in the morning, something disturbing about the blurriness of the form in center as viewed from my bed. I thought I'd found the perfect space above my file cabinets but maybe it just needs to go somewhere else.

No comments: