Impress Ho, Tell

Wand'ring over to the other side of the tracks. Past the brewery. Past the fenced in lot that nobody, not even the squirrels visit.
This despite the abundance of luscious hazelnuts that grow there.

The funny thing about hazelnuts is that they are so very small... yet the pods that house them are enormous and surrounded by juicy wet green flesh. But we can not dwell here... the story is elsewhere and beyond the vacant lot. Beyond the lanes of tenement slums and rottweiler pits. Beyond the cafes and greasy spoons that have no kitchens only vending machines. Beyond and attached to all of this is The Empress Hotel.

I have been there recently and only once but I'm sure that I will be there again. It's halls' width can barely contain two men without their luggage. I have yet to be ushered into one of its rooms but if the interior is anything like the exterior I imagine them to be squalid things. Beds composed of human detris. This is the kind of suicide hotel you hear about in Leonard Cohen songs.

There is no room for me here. I must make my exit.

Down in the lobby... this is a different story. This is the Empress Hotel. But... these grand sweeping steps.... these cleaner windows and an awning so large and burgundy and in good repair that I wonder if this is the same Empress that housed and oppressed the poor.

That Empress had tight angular stairs. This Empress has elevators.

That Empress could only be accessed through the back door of slums. This Empress opens onto a great and grand modern boulevard... you can see the polytechnicque on the other side of the park o rama.

Changes are afoot in the Empress.

I have never been inside its rooms, but if the interior is anything like the exterior, then I imagine large bay windows and polished brass and Sealy Posturepedics and free bathrobes. The kind of suicide hotel that Leonard Cohen writes his songs in. 

The liasion publique knows you by name, and though you can't remember her name, you do remember her braces. Even she is undergoing renovation. She is pregnant and would LOVE to talk but she is working now and one of her charges has a problem. Him and her, those people you never liked, they're acting as mascots... didn't you used to do that? Didn't you used to dress up as Tarzan? And what exactly are they... as mascots, I mean. 

A few hours later you might guess... Empress Prostitute and Her Royal Pimp... but that doesn't make any sense either. Why would the Empress hire mascots that looked like Street Walking Professionals... especially if they don't really look like either the professionals themselves or their stereotypes. Him and her and their problem...
she doesn't just have a run in her stocking...
somebody has cut her thigh...
a horizontal cut of three inches...

The Song Of Hard Times

You and meeeeee
Meeeeee and youuuuuuu
You and meeee eeee eeeee e
in an full colour movie
set during the Great Civil War.

The street is a scrambled displaced family.
The enemy has blown up the saloon;
the enemy has blown up the livery;
the enemy is looking for YouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuUUUUoooohhhhh>

Old Terry Van's General Store
it doesn't have walls or a roof anymore
but he rebuilt the floor
and when he finds the door he will open it wide open
"I'm back in business, i'm back in, i'm back in biz-
ten thousand dollars for that feathered hat. What do you what do you
think of that?
One hundred grand for a long blackened coat
worn by a nearly dead man.
I do I do I do whatever I can
in these hard times. Hard times for us all!
We must band together and get back to business and I'm back in business, I'm back in, I'm back in biz-"

"Yesterday these work gloves were priced at twenty."

"Today they are worth four thousand more."

"But you will accept a dozen scaredly laid chicken eggs."

".
Add a thirteenth and we'll call it square."

You and me walk through the wagon wheels
trying to find my splintered room.
"Dinner plans have been put on hold."
One half block off the central attack,
your friend the innkeeper has a room in the back.
You reluctantly agree
to share your single bed with me.
"The hotel will have to agree."

In these hard times in these very hard times,
compromising bedfellows
is the way
of these
very
hard
times.

Chicago Meadows

I dreamt of Chicago again last night.

in a house with your passionate Hybrid American family
a man who skin had been tanned by his ancestors
a woman with glasses crocheting through a magnifying glass.

there were grandmothers and there was a feast and there were sisters.
but you had to go to work so you left me with your kin

and the elders disappeared into their chores

I was left with the younger side of your family
10 of them in a small room and the post-supper ritual:
to retire to the small room and talk
passionately
about the perpetual struggle of
The Unionists vs. The Egrigados.

It was up to me to catch up. To lean into the conversation and glean information about the world they lived in. They talked to themselves and acknowledging me only by asking "Do you understand?"
It was a rhetorical question.

They were all dark skinned and at first I thought they were Philipino,
but when I looked at the banners on the walls and the black and white photographs I was able to deduce that they were Spaniard emigrated to the US. I deduced that this nightly ritual was an attempt to keep the memory of the Spanish Civil War alive. They were Unionists. Urban working class, factory workers. The hated Egrigados were farmers.

I felt a little lost because I don't know anything about the Spanish Civil War except that it was a romantic cause that many non-Spaniards invested their lives in on both sides. But despite my ignorance of detail, I was engaged by their pure passion.

I still don't know how they could be your family. I thought you were Irish in blood and thoroughly yankee in your culture. There were no pictures of you anywhere.

There were three bottles of liquour on a side cart but nobody was drinking.
Was that a test?
To see how I would react to the alcohol? I was waiting for someone to pour? Was it my place to start pouring for everyone else?

Then three of the men (your cousins?) left and the conversation fell apart and I was left alone pacing... pacing... pacing...

And then one of your sisters (who was blonde) asked me what was wrong and I said I wanted to see Chicago. I had been pacing the room looking for windows and there were none. I needed a window so I could know which way was North, South, East, West. And she told me I could do as I wished. I said I knew that and I wanted to go for a walk but I couldn't find a door. So she led to me a door and took me outside and that's where I saw that Chicago was a very green place. The boulevards and promenades were covered with lawn and bordered by fountains. There was no concrete. There were meadows on long hills.

And when I saw the fountains I started to cry. Your sister asked me what was wrong and I said I didn't know
and I told her that I had dreamt of Chicago before and I told her about the dream I had with the two hills and how nothing in that dream was anything like this dream except for the fountains. The fountains were there. And the fountains were making me cry.

Humming Tune

hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Hey
Have you looked over here?
In a while?
Have you considered?

hum hum hum
hum hum hum
hum hum hum
hum hum hum
hum hum hum
hum hum hum
hum hum hummmm

Why
Why do we vote
Like you want
Without a conscience
Without a soul
Without a hope?

hum
hum
hum
hum

hummmmmmmmmmm

We
We all have problems
We all have complaints
Here's our petition
Don't mean a damn
Mean a damn
Mean a shit
Mean a fuck
Mean a cunt
Mean a heart
Not to you

hum hum hum hum
hum hum hum hum

I
I want to understand
Want to know
I want to question
Want to figure it out
Tell me why
Sit me down
Talk to me
Like I'm dumb
Like I'm dumb
And you're smart.

hummmmmmmmm hummmmmmmmm
hummmmmmmmm hummmmmmmmm

Whyyyyyyyyyyyy
Why do we vote
For a mannnnnnnnn
For a partyyyyyyyyyy
For a pat on the back
For a break
For a job
For a nod
For a room
For a knife
In the back

hum
hum
hum
hum

hum
hum
hum
hum

20th Century Superstition

. . .

PABLO
So I says to him, I says... look if Kennedy can -

SIGMUND
OUT!

PABLO
What?

SIGMUND
OUT!!!!!!

PABLO
Oh come on! You of all people. Superstitious Sigmund?

SIGMUND
OUT! OUT OUT!

PABLO
I'm going I'm going.

SIGMUND
When you're ready!

PABLO
(off) Knock Knock.

SIGMUND
Who's there?

PABLO
Deep.

SIGMUND
Deep who?

PABLO
Deep Throat.

SIGMUND
Isn't that the title of a movie from the seventies?

PABLO
Yes. Dustin Hoffmann and Robert Redford were in it. They were young, They needed the money.

SIGMUND
What do you want?

PABLO
Is Norma Jean in?

SIGMUND
Ms. Munroe is in the bathroom. I'm her chemist. Can I take a message?

PABLO
I wanted to give her something. It belonged to my brother.

SIGMUND
Well, you better come in then.

PABLO
"comes in".

SIGMUND
What is it?

PABLO
It's a book about magic.

SIGMUND
What does it say?

PABLO
On page 1963 it says "The magic bullet was forged by Fidel Castro in a cast iron furnace. It was fired from a magic gun."

SIGMUND
How does it end?

PABLO
Heroically.

SIGMUND
How marvellous. Won't you sit down and tell me about it while we wait for Marilyn?

PABLO
Thank you.

SIGMUND
But if you start talking about her boyfriend again I'll have to ask you to leave.

PAUSE

PABLO
Do we have to do that every time I say Kennedy.

SIGMUND
OUT!!!

PABLO
Jesus Christ On A Soup Can.

SIGMUND
OUT!!!

FASTER THAN THE FIRST TIME

PABLO
(off) Knock Knock.

SIGMUND
Who's there?

PABLO
Deep.

SIGMUND
Deep who?

PABLO
Deep Throat.

SIGMUND
Isn't that the title of a movie from the seventies?

PABLO
Yes. Dustin Hoffmann and Robert Redford were in it. They were young, They needed the money.

SIGMUND
What do you want?

PABLO
Is Norma Jean in?

SIGMUND
Ms. Munroe is in the bathroom. I'm her chemist. Can I take a message?

PABLO
I wanted to give her something. It belonged to my brother.

SIGMUND
Well, you better come in then.

PABLO
"comes in".

SIGMUND
What is it?

PABLO
It's a book about magic.

SIGMUND
What does it say?

PABLO
On page 1963 it says "The magic bullet was forged by Fidel Castro in a cast iron furnace. It was fired from a magic gun."

SIGMUND
How does it end?

PABLO
Heroically.

SIGMUND
How marvellous. Won't you sit down and tell me about it while we wait for Marilyn?

PABLO
Thank you.

SIGMUND
But if you start talking about her boyfriend again I'll have to ask you to leave.

PABLO
Do we have to do that every time?

SIGMUND
Bad things happen when people say that name. Now, what were we talking about?

. . .

In Amsterdream

Last night I had
a lucid dream.



The last lucid dream I remember involved me, I, Tybalt, running
and as I ran and realized that I was dreaming
I fulfilled my previously stated wish that if I was to ever have a lucid dream I would use it to fly.

And I did. Mission accomplished. So. I restated my mission statement.
The next time I was to have a lucid dream I would use it to have unrealfreakoutsex.

Last night I had
a lucid dream



I was walking the streets of Amsterdam. There was a woman dressed in black with a black hat and I was following her.

Maybe she wasn't dressed like that. Maybe I'm just inventing that because I just saw a woman in the produce section an hour ago wearing tall black boots, an above the knees black skirt, a black coat, and black hair under a black hat. Maybe she was the woman in my dream. Maybe I should have followed her.

Last night I had
a lucid dream



I was walking the streets of Amsterdam. There was a woman in black wearing a black hat and I was following her. I don't know why.

She came to an intersection, studied some signs and turned right. I came to the intersection and contemplated whether I should keep following her. I had no reason to follow her and embarassment and possibly trouble were the only possible outcomes of this course of action. I considered abandoning my course and floating away. No harm; no foul. She could not have seen me on account of the brim of her hat. I was never in line to be in the reflection of a shop window.

However, I'm sure the worst that could have happened is that she would have been slightly annoyed because women like her, they are constantly being followed.

pause to consider. was she an agent?

I have had several run-ins with the Dream Police. Any time that I have been even on the brink of lucidity, officers of the Dream Police appear to thwart my awareness. I know, I know this all sounds kind of "The Matrix" blah, blah, blah... what can I say. It's true.

I have a technique that I have not firmly committed too otherwise I'm sure my lucid state would be mastered by now. The technique is to ask myself many times a day "Is this a dream?" and to answer the question. The theory is that if you commit to this technique enough times in waking life, then you will repeat it in dreaming life...

The one time that this happened in dreamtime I asked the question "is this a dream" but before i could answer... an undercover officer of the Dream Police appeared reading a newspaper at the next table in the cafe. She tricked me into not asking the question of myself but of asking it of her. I kept asking "is this a dream? is this a dream? is this a dream?" but she ignored me and kept on reading her newspaper.

The function of the Dream Police is to keep me from acheiving Lucidity.

It had never occured to me that there might be other agents out there working counter to the oppression... working towards my interest.

The woman in the black hat was leading me. Of course she knew I was following her... she was leading me to the intersection.


At that intersection, I saw a sign a metal plaque mounted on a stone wall that said
"nextfest
international"

When I saw this, I knew it was some other kind of nextfest... some kind of... fashion syndicate or... car advertisers or some such bullshit...

... But I knew this. If she was to confront me on following her, then I could claim I was only trying to find nextfest.

So I continued to follow the woman in the black hat. Down the secret street. Into the revolving doors of a skyscraper. She stepped through elevator doors. My elevator was small... large enough only for one person.

When I got off the elevator on the nextfest international floor at nextfest international reception i was greeted by a loopy lady who i whispered my introduction to. i told her who i was. and why i was there. she led me down a hall. we laughed. she opened a door. i entered it.


And then I was in a car with this dude who just wouldn't stop talking wouldn't stop moving he was a mover and he could shake it and he was connected and he had friends and it was a night without streetlights and we drove to bars and we played pool and we drank tall glasses of golden beer and there was lots of laughing and he told me his lifestory and ... I knew he wasn't getting it right. This story he was telling me about having lived here all his life and the cars that we were jumping into and the boys and his life of crime... that wasn't true.

And this girl that I met in the bar while he was fencing some stolen goods... she... I knew her from some other place. She wasn't royally born and sneaking out of the castle for some night of blues. That wasn't right.

Because she's Kailin See. And he's Jeff Halaby.
And Jeff. I know it's you man. I know you're Jeff Halaby just playing the part of some good time charlie and Kailin's just running around playing the role of the barefoot princess because this is all a dream man. I'm dreaming.
You're Jeff.
She's Kailin.
It's all cool. I understand.
You're Jeff... which means that I'm dreaming.

Cool.

And we were just standing at the backside of the palace on the lawn... a dutch palace in Washington D.C. ... much like Buckingham Palace... a non-descript palace. ...

So. I told them.

But I didn't tell them that I wanted to have the most unrealfreakoutsex. It just didn't seem to be the right place. The right time. The right people.

But. I told them.

I told them. That this was a dream. And that. They could do. Whatever they wanted to because. This was. Just a dream. And that I know it. Is a dream. Because you are. Jeff and. You are. Kailin. But you're not Jeff and Kailin. You are figments. You are not Jeff and Kailin at all so don't think you are and you. Can do. Whatever you want. To me.

How passive aggressive. What inhibition! I was aware of my state of the freedom to do anything to go anywhere to begin again and create whatever! Whatever! Whatever!

But I didn't. Because... why? Because I did not want Jeff and Kailin to think less of me? In a sense, yes. In a sense. In a sense. In essence. Innocence. Incensed. Incense. Incest. Insist. Insisted. Assisted. Assessed...

Mostly it was because I think, that Lucid Dreaming is a skill. It is an amoral art that must be practiced carefully. It's like a drug. One should respect it and I knew not to dive without knowing how to drive. The woman in the black hat had led me to a number of doors that led me to an opening of my perception... if I had discounted the experience that led me to that place. If I had wiped out the night and Jeff and Kailin and the car and the bar and all else just so that I could get hot rip pull claw blood skull rock stick indulge in sexual fantasy, then I highly doubt the woman in the black hat would reveal herself to me again.

So. I instructed Jeff and Kailin to do as they will.

And they threw snowballs at me. Hard ones. They were aiming for my testicles.

Jerks. When I see them next... next... next