January 01, 2004

6:10 p.m.

Warm First Day

We attended the final culinary holiday heresy this morning in the form of a brunch, which contained about 20 people and food for about 60. In addition to the lasagna, the sausage & peppers, the egg & broccoli casserole, the potato and cheese bake, and the turkey, someone brought this completely sacreligious french toast thing, where they had cubed the bread or dough object into a pan and dumped the eggy stuff all over it with a lot of cinnamon, then baked the whole thing into this springy, Pillsbury-like gob that was eaten with syrup. In the naivete of morning I imagined that I wouldn't eat very much at this fete, but the Doughboy French Toast put all resolve out of doors. It was outrageous and I don't regret one sweet bite.

Those at my table tried to think of new year's resolutions, and there was only one. The woman on my left had resolved not to bitch at her husband any more. Hearing this from the next table, he shook his head slowly in scornful disbelief. (Perhaps he should resolve to reduce bitchworthy behaviors -- that way they could work as a team?) My sister and I talked on the way in about the guy vs. the girl behaviors and how we have to weigh the frustrations of dealing with a spouse or s.o. against the great qualities we love in them. It makes me mull over the way every guy I've ever been involved with has eventually (or quickly) driven me absolutely crazy. I've thought it was just poor choosing on my part, but maybe there's also something to these differences that simply requires more tolerance from me if I expect to last more than a few years with anyone.

Or, maybe I've just keenly developed my skill at choosing the eccentric, the unfixable and the annoying.

Last night's dream (this morning, actually, predawn) was about staying over at someone's house and when I got up in the morning there were all these other guests sleeping in the same room, on the floor. No one else was awake yet so I was trying to creep around and find the shower, but of course by then people were stirring and already occupying the bathrooms and I was quite disconcerted at all the company. I did go into one of the bathrooms to find about five people sleeping in blankets on the floor. Who would know what to do in such an awkward social situation? Do you pee anyway, say "excuse me" and get out quick, or do you have the presence of mind to yell, "WHAT are you doing sleeping in my goddamn BATHROOM? Get out of here, you cretins!" Sadly, I was not lucid, so the situation was never resolved.

I have this sense that the dreamworld is an actual place, that remains where it is after we wake. Sometimes, when I'm having a particularly horrid or scary dream, and I know I'm dreaming, I can make myself wake up in an instant; but before I do it, I say to my oppressor (usually a Nazi), "I'll fix you. I'll disappear!" and out I go into the waking world, leaving the bastid (or the crowd) all by himself/themselves, looking around wondering how in the world I did that.

I have occasionally had very randy sex dreams where I am just totally, uncharacteristically predatory -- always chasing after women, saying lewd things to them and grabbing body parts, etc. -- which I find shocking, but it's only a dream, so anything goes, right -- but there was a point where I started to wonder if I was actually behaving cruelly in a real place, with real living entities in it, and racking up negative karma there. This bothers me. (Especially because sometimes the women try to get away, and I don't let them.)

I'm sure this has some profound significance in my waking life, though I hesitate to pursue it.

I had thoughts of taking a nap today, but now it's too late. Gig in NJ tomorrow, so I should do my routing. We're putting together a new, classier brochure with some fan and promoter quotes on it, so we've been going through the files compiling notes and emails we've saved over the last couple of years. It's been cheering to read all these gushing letters from people we've never met, whose lives have been made fuller by what we do. I feel very fortunate. One woman told me she always brought my CD with her to the hospital when she had chemotherapy, and it helped get her through the treatment. That's the kind of thing that makes all the trouble worthwhile.