January 17, 2006 - Missed the Plane

Part 1: I am in some kind of bar/restaurant by myself. There are tons of people in the basement portion, doing various things. Young people, wild girls, a DJ maybe. There is a small group of men huddled together near the bar playing Old Timey music, in the center is a guy playing a stand-up bass. As I pass them and turn the corner to go to the bathroom the hallway is festooned with guitars and other instruments hanging from the walls and ceiling.

Part 2:

I am supposed to be getting ready to leave for somewhere in South America, for an extended period. I have been getting ready for a long time and although today is the day to leave I am exhausted. I end up at some kind of party, not necessarily a party for me. I know that I am supposed to fly to Miami and then meet up with my group to leave for S.A. Brian is there, as are mom, dad, and Robin. I lay down to take a nap, careful to make sure that they know when I have to leave, etc. At some point I wake up and look at my watch to see that it is 3 PM, and think "Oh good, I have a little time left." The next thing I know I wake up and it's 5PM and I've missed my plane.

I'm frantic. I try to get some help, but no one will help me. Finally, my Dad comes in after just being on the phone and says,"Well, you're just going to have to apply again next year." I am thrown into a total fit. This is something I've spent the last six months of my life on and I'm losing it because of a simple little mistake. I try calling the organization (somethingAmerica)but I only get a pre-recorded message. Then I realize that it should be feasable to make it to Miami and join the group. I'm trying to figure all of this out, and although I'm now at home with my family they seem absolutely uninterested in helping me. I start to wail and cry and yell, completely out of control.

January 15, 2006 - Pinky Fungus From Hell

There appears to be some kind of infection on the side of my left pinky fingernail. At first I ignore it, or don't really know what to do about it. But it seems to grow. It doesn't hurt, but manifests itself as a soft, white growth. It keeps growing and growing until I have something that looks like roots, or a white underwater plant. It is growing out of the crevice between fingernail and finger, stemming out and about six inches tall. I am rather surprised to find it there, but it is kind of rubbery and doesn't hurt. But, I decide to do something about it, so I go see some kind of doctor(I think, although it may just have been Nate.)

I am advised simply to keep it clean, which I guess I hadn't been doing up to that point. I go home and apply copious amounts of hydrogen peroxide to the problem area. There is a correspondingly copious amount of bubbling and percolating, to the point that I can't really see what is happening. When the smoke clears the fungus is completely gone, but it becomes apparent that the fingernail is loose and about to come off. I peel the fingernail off (it seems oversized, as though it's supposed to be on someone much bigger) and below there is a soft, thin new fingernail in its place. I touch the new fingernail lightly, but it causes a rip in the center. Then, as I look closer at what is beneath I see an eyeball sprouting. Then it really sprouts, a full sized eyeball pushing itself out from the hole in the fingernail, engulfing my finger.

January 5, 2006 - Drunk Poetry Reading/ Stick Game

I am in some kind of creative writing class, but one which is located outside in a lush green courtyard. There are maybe about 30 other people in the class and a teacher, possibly male. It is time for me to give a poetry reading and the chairs are arranged audience style with a podium set up in front. I get up to the podium with stack of papers and begin to talk about what I’m going to read (pitter. patter.) when I realize that I’m really drunk. I’m trying to struggle through my intro but it becomes more and more difficult to speak. I have to keep stopping and shuffling through papers, turning aside to get a drink of water.

Suddenly my cell phone rings and for some reason I answer it. It’s Sybille and she’s obviously upset. I tell her I’m in the middle of a lecture, but she either isn’t listening or doesn’t understand what I’m trying to tell her. She continues, very upset, “Well, I just think the outlook on this whole thing is just fucked!” Finally, I get a chance to talk and explain to her, “I’m staning in front of about 30 people and they are all looking at me and listening to every word I say.” Finally she unerstands and immediately changes, and becomes very cheery and loose. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later.” And she hangs up.

But, I’ve completely lost everyone’s attenttion and they are moving furniture all around the courtyard. I step aside for a moment thinking that they are just rearranging things in a circle so that the reading is more informal, and that I will continue shortly. Soon, though, it becomes apparent that they are actually setting up to play some kind of game and that the reading is over without my ever having read a single poem.

The game they are playing involves a baton-like piece of wood that is flung at the ground in such a way that it bounces or flips back up into the air. The people have arranged themselves in two big circles away from each other, and I understand these to be two separate games. I am hanging back watching while leaning on the corner of an ivy-covered building. They are calling me to come play, but I don’t want to because: a. I’m mad that my reading was pre-empted, and b. I have no faith in ability to play this game, and am in fact afraid of getting hurt. I have the thought, “Maybe I should go running again.”

January 2, 2006 - Dinosaur Zoo

Me and Mom and Dad are supposed to be taking care of some kind of zoo. There is no one else around. The thing about this zoo, though, is that its inhabitants include two small dinosaurs. For some reason when we take over the dinosaurs are outside of their cages and we have to get them back in. The building where their cages are located is similar to one of the old buildings at the Milwaukee Zoo. Like the cat house, maybe. The first dinosaur, which is one of the more benign ones, a triceratops or something, presents no problem. The second one, though, is a small T.Rex, which would like very much to eat us. We manage to lure it into the Dino House, and finally, by using each other as bait, into its cage. But, as I walk out of the cage I realize that there is no door on the cage, and that the T.Rex is coming back out after me. I start running and come around a bend in the dark, rock-like interior, facing the cage of the other dinosaur, fronted with glass. I know that the T.Rex is right on my tail, and then wake up.

December 30, 2005 - Visiting Macalester

I’m back at Macalester visiting. I’m staying in one of the houses on Grand, like the Culture House but in a slightly different location. No one is around. I come out onto the porch in the morning to get some fresh air. For some reason I’m thinking about computers and how some people leave them out in the open, when I realize that the house I’m staying in has a very old, two tone computer set up outside, almost like an ATM. I decide to try to check my email, and come down off of the porch. Of course my password and ID are no longer valid, so I can’t check my email. As I finish I think, “Great. I wonder if they’ll be able to tell that I was here.” I’m kind of, not so much afraid as wary.

Someone drives up a ways down the block and parks their car. From a distance it looks like Jane Miller, and I start walking down the block in order to see if it’s her. I can’t quite tell still, and I think to myself how much better it would be if I had my glasses. Finally, I get close enough to see that it isn’t her. I say nothing and keep walking.

I end up approaching the main campus of Macalester and get really excited to see the new Union and the way everything looks now. As I’m about to come around the corner, however, I realize that this is a dream and that I won’t actually be able to see how it really looks because I’ve never been there. This acknowledgement that I’m in a dream colors things but just a little bit. It’s not like I’m suddenly in control of the dream or anything.

So, I come around the corner, kind of where Dupre would be, so that I’m looking onto Kagin and the rest of the campus. I see Sommer Browning standing on the grass, alone, but with a lot of other people scattered around. At first I’m not sure if it’s her, but I can see her sunglasses and her mouth and thin, tight-fitting clothes. There is some kind of performance going on and people are milling around, watching or not watching. There is a man speaking, maybe almost in a Shakespearean way. Some kind of rag-tag costume on. I want to talk to Sommer, but she seems to always be distant, physically.

I’m standing a ways back, but directly in front of the stage area, when a group of people dressed also in red costumes with flags comes charging toward me in two lines. They are heading for the stage, but go right by me, as though I was in their way.

The end of the performance comes when someone in the crowd steps forward and begins to lead everyone there in some kind of strangely patriotic song, kind of like a school anthem, but with sincere feeling. As this happens, I step forward toward the stage and the rest of the campus to see that we are very near the edge of a giant hill, and that below us is a whole city openning up, far far down. I am slightly overwhelmed while everyone around me is belting out this song.

December 29, 2005 - Returning from a Trip to MilwaukeeTucson

I have returned from some kind of trip. The place is filled with Tucson people, but for some reason the environment feels more like Milwaukee. The house and neighborhood near 49th and Clarke are somehow evoked. It’s also rainy. There is a big party and I show up dressed inappropriately. Wearing some kind of short skirt or something? It’s like I’m wearing my pajamas, and I have my blanket with me. I know I should be embarassed, but nobody really seems to care, so I’m not.

Carrie is there, her hair kind of long, and she seems to be slightly indifferent to my presence. The party is huge, in that house maybe, but there is also a bare that takes up the center of one of the big rooms. I finally get to talk to Carrie and she starts telling me about her work schedule. (Is the location of the party the Congress Hotel?) She mentions that Andy works in the Cup on Friday and Saturday nights. I’m really shocked and upset, telling her – “What? I’ve been trying to get a job there for two and a half years.” She just kind of shrugs her shoulders.