...and you have no time to waste

Welcome

As I came to work this morning I was listening to Pink Floyd and reading Cloud Atlas. I'm to a part in the book where the world is not as it is today. A post apocalypse world. Humanity destroyed itself in its quest for knowledge. I spent a few more minutes reading outside before going in to start the day. As I opened the door to my office Gilmore cried from my iPod, "Welcome to the Machine." It was the most fitting entry I think I've ever made into this building.

Fox News, I really love hating you...

...but when you go and do things like this it makes it harder. For years now you've become an outlet for the most narrow minded right wing fanatics and I'm sure that isn't going to change completely. None the less it pleases me to see that you are now airing things like this...



Now as I look into this Shep a little more I kind of want to start watching him. Here's a blurb from the wiki entry for him:

In April 2009, in response to the claim that techniques such as waterboarding may have been effective in fighting terrorism, Smith said in an online Fox News show, "I don't give a rat's ass if it helps. We are America! We do not fucking torture!*"

Amen to that brother.

Back to the Nitty Gritty

Well now that we all know what this is about I'll get back to it...

The Google is reppin' a bar code today. I like it. I think that the increased number of "special" google headers is a good thing. It's still simple, but they're also able to honor different events and people. "A for effort and a B for delivery"...

I really need to do some laundry. I haven't since I moved and I'm almost out of clothes. I'm down to wearing underpants that aren't my favorite. Hopefully I make it through the day without too much unpleasantness. But I assure you the firs thing I'm doing when I get home is laundry, then video games, then more laundry, then I'll probably eat something, then a whole lot more video games, how about a little Simpsons Season 3, then some more laundry, then I'll sleep. This information may seem meaningless now, but later on you'll be glad to have received it...

Cloud Atlas!!! I'm thoroughly enjoying this book. About half way through and it's amazing. I HIGHLY recommend it to all of you. I can't believe that it sat on my bookshelf for 18 months before I gave it a chance...

I had a dream last night that I lived in a tree. There wasn't a treehouse or anything, I just lived in a tree. Birds and squirrels were my friends. I distinctly remember looking over the edge of one of the massive branches and realizing how high up I was. The altitude cause a sort of vertigo and the ground seemed to spin like a hypnotic wheel. I quickly laid on the branch and held on as tightly as I could. That's all I remember...

I think that Roman Polanski deserves to be in jail for the rest of his life. I have no sympathy for chi-mo's regardless of what they have to offer the world...

Fall is here. It's glorious. When I control the weather it will be like this everyday. Unless you're somewhere that's pissing me off. Then I'd send all kinds of nonsense your way. Best to stay in the PNW. It'd take something big for me to negatively effect myself to enact vengeance. Not saying that it won't happen, because it might...

I just realized that I didn't give mad props to the NESF for putting together that killer pic of the watusi-wannabe. But don't despair I intend to atone for my mistakes. Here goes...

What is Desomnia in Drull???

Those of you that have been around from the beginning may remember that when I started this blog I gave you a very vague idea of what to expect:

What is Desomnia in Drull?
The short answer is: It's a blog. The long answer is: The blog itself.

Now that I'm 300 posts into it here at Desomnia in Drull I've asked a few people who regularly follows the blog to send in a small blurb about what they think the blog is really about. If I didn't include you, that doesn't mean you can't participate. Feel free to leave comments about what YOU think this blog is really about...

ElizaBeth:
"[Desomniac] generates a curious persona via his blog in that people might make the mistake of thinking him outlandish and irreverant, shocking for shock's sake, when really it's quite the opposite. [Desomniac] is very thoughtful and gives a lot of attention to getting various sides of a story before presenting his own opinion. He's not afraid to speak his mind, enter into a discourse on something inflammatory, or literally share his dreams in a public space where all of the above could be easily misinterpreted. He manages to avoid the pitfall of being repetitive and boring which often spells the death of a blog since both the writer and his readers tire of the subject matter. By keeping it varied, sometimes superficial and sometimes deep, sometimes mainstream and sometimes esoteric, Desomniac in Drull offers a reliable source of unpredictable distractions from the monotony of a 40-hour work week."

Spam Scout:
"Desomnia in Drull is the Venn Diagram center between dreams, local politics, music, watusis, Buck Hunter, and religion - written by a honky white devil with nothing to lose."

Rebecca:
"The first three things that come to mind when I think of Desomnia in Drull - Random. Eclectic. Thought provoking. Through this blog [Desomniac] challenges his readers to think, to engage in dialogue and share his life and culture. Now, [Desomniac]'s culture may not be the same as anyone else's, but it exists nonetheless. ;) It's only by keeping up with Desomnia that I remain as connected as I am to the world beyond my immediate sphere of influence. There are so many elements that combine to create Desomnia in Drull. I love all of them."

P.:
"one mans rants and raves about the trivialities of his life, and obsessions."

2x4ster:
"From Bhangra to Bob Dylan to Buck Hunter; from faith to fate to Facebook; Nanerpus to nursery rhymes to NWA - this blog engages everything significant that is tilted, in need of tilting, or downright twisted in our withering world. Stating so may be cliche, but the uninitiated must be made to understand (and maybe we all need a reminder on occasion) - Desomnia in Drull is ultimately a blog about honey. Or this."

Desomniac:
As for me, I guess Desomnia in Drull is as close as you're going to get to the slipstream of my consciousness. I use it as a place to express whatever is on my mind at a given time. Whether that be an introspective dreamscape, a political rant, questions that really have no answers or mindless babble, it all has a home here.

Do the Urkle!

While reminiscing about old ABC TGIF shows via youtube I ran across this gem that I feel I should share with all of you...

On Dreams

I've been bloggin' a fair number of dreams lately, which has brought up some interesting questions.

A friend recently made a comment to me that he's not sure if he believes my dreams or not. This confused me. Where would I come up with this stuff if not for in dreams? I like to think of myself as a creative person, but some of these are just way too far out there for me to come up with in my waking life. I wish I could to be honest with you. I think that I'd have far fewer bouts of writers block if I could.

Now this makes me question why I dream to begin with. Is this my minds way of transferring ideas from the subconscious (or even the unconscious) into a forum where I can actually begin to understand and utilize the concepts? Why do I dream when so many people tell me they never dream? Is it that they aren't dreaming or that they're not remembering them?

My dad seems convinced that my dreaming has something to do with the things that I eat. I'm not so sure about that. I've started consciously thinking about what I eat in the evening in hopes of finding out what it might be and using it to my advantage in achieving the ever illusive "lucid dream". However it seems that regardless of my diet, or lack thereof, in the evening I still have dreams. Is dreaming something that one can really control?

I've actually actively tried to dream at times when I haven't for a while. I lie in my bed and think of all the various things that I might dream about or think intently on one thing that I really want to dream about in hopes of gaining a greater insight into it. However it seems when I try to dream I don't and if I want to dream about something specific I end up dreaming about something completely different. Is it possible to control dreams or does that defeat the point in dreaming?

Do these dreams have any meaning? Is there some point that I'm missing that's hidden deep beneath the symbols and faces? Or is it just a result of misfiring neurons that happen to create these beautiful, strange or sometimes frightening dreamscapes? If it is just random mistakes of the mind how do they seem to fit together so well at times?

I guess this is where I'm left asking what is the relationship between dreams and art. Many of my dreams are as vivid as the best cinema and as captivating as the greatest novels. Are dreams the art of the unconscious?

Where does God play into all of this?

I know with all these questions I have yet to give a single answer. I wish that I had them, but I don't.

"We're so glad you were still able to make it."

Begin Dream

I was sitting at a table playing poker. There were only two other players left in the game. I was dealt a pair of Jacks in the hole. There was a round of betting but everyone seemed a little apprehensive to go all out before the flop. As the three cards were revealed I nearly jumped out of my seat but managed to keep my cool. It had come up A-J-J. First postion went all in with a small stack of chips. Quickly raised by the next in line with yet again another all in. I sat looking at my cards, knowing I had them both covered. I looked at the other players nondescript faces and slowly pushed my chips into the pot. The second caller burst out, "HA! You're done for!" As he hastily turned over a pair of aces. The first caller than threw his cards in the muck, but not before showing the last ace, knowing that all was lost. I chuckled to myself and politely asked, "Would you like me to turn them over or would you like to do the honors?" Without saying a word he reached across the table and one at a time turned over my pair of Jacks. He was furious. I grabbed the cash and left quickly.

Found myself on the street outside Seattle Central Community College. There were people everywhere. I'd never seen so many people in my life. Imagine Grand Central Station in NYC and multiply it by a factor of ten. I kept looking behind me, half expecting to see the men from the poker table following me with the intent to mug me. I weaved in and out of people as if performing the illusive snake dance. I was caught off guard when KelDel tripped me with a shopping bag. I smiled as she apologized and tried to help me up, but I dismissed her aid and began running through the masses of people. I reached the south edge of the college and there were large concert stairs and mammoth pillars that were worthy of the Parthenon.

As I broke out of the campus the setting changed drastically. The streets were all dimly lit, strange as it just seemed to be mid day, and there were questionable characters scattered about in groups. I was searching for a Mexican restaurant that I had a reservation at that I wasn't about to miss. Every street seemed to be lined with small restaurants all decorated with pinatas and corona flags. I stopped to look around, made a circle in the middle of the street and was bludgened from behind with a large metal pipe. I touched the back of my head and realized that I was bleeding. I turned around to find Mr Quick holding the assault weapon. His face turned red when he realized who I was, "I'm SO sorry! We've had a problem with hate crimes in this area and I thought you were one of the perpetrators." I shook my head and replied, "Well I'd say that you are the guilty party here." He then took a med kit from his satchel and bandaged my wound before giving me the exact address of the restaurant. I wasn't far at all.

I reached the painted doorway and descended the stairs. It was barely lit with candles, the style of which you'd find in a catholic church. A woman met me at the bottom of the stairs, "We're so glad you were still able to make it. I heard you've had a hell of a time trying to get here." I had no idea how she would have heard about my travels, but decided it best not to say anything. She led me to a small table near the kitchen and placed a margarita in front of me. I asked politely for a menu and she replied, "Your meal has already been decided." I gave her a puzzled look but was please enough to have a drink in front of me that I accepted it all for what it was. Only a few moments passed before she brought a large plate of food out. The plate was so hot that the clay was still glowing slightly. There was everything that you could ever want in a Mexican restaurant all on one platter. I just gazed at the immense amount of food while finishing my drink. Before I could even set the glass down she had brought me another one. I picked up my fork and decided to start with a corner that appeared to be some variation of bean and cheese. It was delicious. Each bite was ecstasy. I plunged my fork in time and time again until once when I did so a large chunk of mozzarella, warm enough to be gooey but not hot enough to burn, leap from up onto my face. I took my napkin and began to clean the cheese from my face but it just stretched and spread the more I tried till it was covering my whole head.

End Dream

Blah.

We got hit by a tsunami here in Washington. The massive wave measured 2-5 inches. I'm sorry I missed it.

There was also an earthquake in Shelton. I didn't feel it. Guess that mean it never really happened.

My boss accidentally brewed an entire pot of coffee at 230pm. I hate to see it go to waste so I guess I'm going to be drinking a pot of coffee this afternoon.

FAIL WHALE!!!!

This is deteriorating quickly. I have to go now.

"They do in my dreams"

Desomniac: do your parents own a vacation house?
MNom: sadly, no
MNom: why's that?
Desomniac: they do in my dreams

First dream in the new place and it was a strange one...

The dream began with myself, NESF, PMR and MNom sitting around a table. MNom then proposed the idea that we all go to her parents vacation home down by Gig Harbor. This came as a shock to most of us because we were all unaware of this vacation home. There was a lot of discussion and we decided to go to the Fred Meyers to gather the needed supplies for the journey. The only thing I remember purchasing was three large (and I mean LARGE) bags of lemons and a few pounds of sugar. We wandered the aisles aimlessly for some time. When we returned to the parking lot I remember PMR having some problem with going. It wasn't that he had other plans but there was some moral objection to going.
As he departed we were joined by MNom's younger sister. We all loaded into a small Japanese sedan from the late eighties and began driving. It was surprisingly close, seemingly only to take half an hour to get there. We unloaded the contents of the car into the small house and then everyone else immediately jumped into the water which seemed to have suddenly appeared in front of the house.
The sun was shining and I just laid in the grass for some time. There were many people in the water, presumably from the surrounding houses. There was a jovial battle that involved NESF and MNom taking over a small dock with water cannons mounted on all sides. Anyone who tried to get near them was drenched with a blast of water strong enough to knock down an elephant. They would both laugh manically and exchange high fives with every direct shot. As the battle intensified NESF called out to me, "Hey we need rations! Bring on the lemons!!" So I went into the house to fix everyone some lemonade.
As I passed through the sliding glass door everything changed. The whole interior of the house had converted into a casino! There was a poker game in the corner, slot machines placed in haphazard positions around the room, and black jack tables lined the walls. A woman who was barely clothed came up and asked if I'd like a drink. I politely asked her, "What happened in here?" "I'm sorry sir I don't understand, it's just as it was when you left to smoke. You'd better get back to the table soon. [garbled noise] doesn't like to be kept waiting."
She then motioned to one of the black jack table where the dealer was staring at me and a man in a cowboy hat sat at the table shuffling his chips. I took a seat and the dealer pushed a large stack of chips in my direction. The mysterious man, without raising his head, said, "You may have me on the run now, but rest assured I'll outlast you."
Apparently we were engaged in some sort of blackjack tournament and I was doing very well. We played endlessly. My stack would dwindle slightly and then I'd get on a roll. Same for my opponent. At one point another man sat beside me and tried to steal chips from my stack. I kept swatting him like a common fly, before the dealer ejected the man from the house on the grounds of "unsportsman like conduct".
The end seemed to be near as my opponent was down to his last few chips and then lost a large handing leaving him with one single chip. Then for the first time he looked up at me revealing his face. Much to my amaze PMR was the one staring back at me. He spit to the side of the table and took a long drink from his cocktail before saying, "I may be down, but never count me out."

End Dream.