Sunday, August 30, 2020

keyculator meandering dream

willie is desperate for pets tihs morning. he's got his tail wrapped arund my head. begging and begging but then he bites. why buddy why!
the dream was circular and hard to follow. but it was all about following. the first thing i remember is hiding - a rural village is being raided by invaders or some sort. it's really ijmpossible to tell the time or place. i don't even know what i'm doing there, but i know i'm not a native, this is not my home. am i a traveler who's gotten lost? i show up at the village right when shit goes down?
a woman finds me -- am i caught or have we chosen teh same hiding place? under some table with a white tablecloth. she's 30something, brown hair tied back, no nonsense pants, a vest? nondescript. but she smiles at me through the chaos and she's an insane light i need to follow. she tells me she never lives to stay anywhere too long and that i'm welcome to come with her but ONLY if i'm asked. never follow without permission. that seems easy enough. alright. she says sometimes we will have to go separately so as not to raise suspicions and that i must be patient and only do exactly as i'm told. if i'm ot leave first, i have to wait for her, not come back for her. or only leave exactly when she says, not rush. it seems like an exercise in total trust. but do i have enough?
she tells me to folow her behind a tree, there's soem specific steps to it, and suddenly, peacocks and towers. we have jumped to an entirely different place.
the whirlwind of adventure. romance and intrigue and ridiculousness. we meet people who it turns out are others like her, with the ability to teleport, and what a band of merry men they are. either they're all poly together or it's a love triangle of some kind or i odn't know what. but right now she is burning for this other woman, and she chooses her as her companion for the next destination. she says there can be only one. but then that woman chooses the dude. they follow the steps, walking in a particular pattern on a parrticular place, and saying the magic words. red circles burn briefly around their feet, and then they're gone, one by one. the dude is the last. he's got playful eyes and all the power in the world. will he pick me? i think he's thinking "why not?" but when he gives me the instructions, i can't seem to activate the same circles or teleportation magic as the others. either i'm stepping on the wrong spots, just not doing it right, or he has intentionally given me bad directions and this is just a big joke. is he just killing time, waiting around while the other two finally get to fuck? is this the usual game?
i wake up before i can find out.

Saturday, August 29, 2020

keyculator quarantine journal

"a scroll in the morning is death to a writer." -not anyone's quote. but i think i'm summarizing.
you forgot the line. you forgot the line. you forgot the line. look at how it happens every time. even when there's paper present, even when that heavy lessens. remember how it feels when the words read right? remember when you dreamed you were flying? the kite?
last night's dream was beans and cheese, a lesbian house party, a tongue on your knees that climbing slickly, made you seize. you woke up in your usual pillow squeeze. the culmination of the epic journey into the land of the dead and these men and their quests and getting it done. the insistence on the story if it's one that they won.
meanwhile, me, with nothing to say
desperately try to fill a page.
(i guess that's how all my writing just turns out to be about writing! what a nightmare!)
last time, 2 months ago, with a deadline, ellie asked me what i was trying to write about. i have no idea. i just want words, the kinds that click together. satisfying sounds. BUT ALSO i want them to resonate and maybe be topical and probably be perfect on the first try without me having to do any editing. WHAT and who do i think i am. no wonder i never get any writing done! more importantly, no wonder i never get any writing STARTED!
today is suddenly full of words. i'm filled up again with writing projects: ones i've been sitting on (like ART PARTY and SSC missives) and out of nowhere (what if i use tarot cards as prompts for abstract free writing?)
now i'm hungry. this is the trouble with morning pages. i don't want to be bothered! but i need to focus! i need a new breakfast food. a quick, light one. latley i always want to eat the most so that i don't have to be bothered by getting hungry again. but then i end up either not having lunch or having a light, late one and then dinner is forever later. part of me still trying to match ellie's food timeline, i guess.

ohhhh dear. i got temporarily stuck in the scroll, instead of eating or writing. STUPID. i guess i got bored with what i was saying a minute ago. (rhymes were certainly more fun. EVEN I WAS JUST WRITING ABOUT WRITING AS FUCKING ALWAYS. HELP.)
the scroll will be the death of you!
gotta find prompts! gotta do stuff!
(except now i just wanna eat yogurt and play a stupid game. helppppppp.)

Monday, August 17, 2020

keyculator theatre dream

8/17/20, dream taht i wish i could remember more of.

a visit with laylee and a dream about clowning. also good sex and an appropriate amount of alcohol and going to bed tired and waking up with a little bit of good ache. i want to move my body better, more. i know i say this all the time. i know it's stale as crackers by now. but here i am saying it again, in the moment after, where the little movement sparked the big dream.
the play had multiple titles. the vichy government, or ....
at some point half waking, thinking wow i could never write that. and realizing, no but i did.
large ensemble cast, with a lot of improve elements. poetic speeches but mostly movement, strict blocking with room for loose execution.
somehow i was a late addition. my part is very small and i am not even fully familiar with the show. something very exciting about being IN the show and WATCHING it unfold around me. (how to recreate THAT with an audience?! immersive theatre/storytelling. bringing people on a journey PHYSICALLY and emotionally. well don't worry it will never happen again because covid.)
some scene where somehow the director (an old balding white dude who looks like werner herzog) ends up with his feet in my mouth??? morgan is upset, somehow i konw this although i'm not sure if she says anything out loud. i'm trying to show her that my clown is sad about having feet in my mouth but i, me, am fine with it. just hold them loosely and mush around. no sucking. plop them about like fishes.
linley and her scene partner are rehearsing lines. they have this scene super tight, alternating between speaking in unison with back and forth, humming or droning under the other person's speech (or they have a third doign this, it's not fully clear). the effect is immediate - thrilling and taut and disorienting and everything. i guess they're practicing because linley is anxious about her lines but i think they sound perfect. the director approves too.
i keep ending up on the wrong part of teh stage. the director is irritated with me for TOO MUCH improvizing?? (more likely too much clown, something i think bill has actually gotten frustrated about before during his improv games. i'm taking the spotlight. standing out too much from the ensemble.)
or i'm always drawn towards the one place i shouldn't be or the one prop i shouldn't touch. three times i mess up a delicate prop that sarah rushakoff and co. have to keep resetting. it's like a pumpkin pie or something, a little orange cylinder. it's supposed to grow or spill or something at the right moment. not my moment! the first time i picked it up and ruined it. the last time, i have been accidentally left out on stage when everyone else is gone. (the story involves a giant icy mountain and probably some kinda ice queen at the top. linley?? the cast manipulates the set as the scenes change, dancing the backdrop into something new. they pull the white sheets around themselves and up and create teh mountain. somehow i am left out in front as everyone else has spun away. i'm crouched at the foot of the mountain, all the way stage right, upstage, trying to be invisible. someone comes out for the next scene and sees me and follows the rhythm - the new rhythm - picking me up and dance carrying me across the stage. i am light as anything and full dance clown, reaching and stretching and wriggling. then i see the pumpkin!)
i think i'm being graceful and careful this time. i'm reaching and making a show of my wanting, as i'm being carried/restrained by this other person. i barely tap the dang thing, and it's bottom spills out in a big orange circle around it. i've destroyed it again!
around tihs time i start to wake up but i really don' wantto leave teh dream. can i go backwards and try again without destroying the pumpkin prop? but it's too late, i'm too conscious. willie is screaming. simon's power tools are screaming. a big kathunk from the back, what is jerel doing? and waht was the name of that play anyway? it's beginning to fade. can't go back. but want to want to want to.