dreamstate writing 26 Sep 2017

I was walking down a busy boulevard (similar to Hollywood, at Cherokee) when I felt compelled to leave it and use the restroom in a tastefully restored, three-storey-tall, red-brick building off to my right-hand side. The building appeared to house a discothek of sorts, with many people entering and exiting it, and music emanating from within. As I stepped over its threshold I noticed that bricks of raised, white, translucent Chinese hanzi writing-characters had been laid in intricate patterns over many of the bricks, covering most walls from floor to ceiling. The individual, mostly meter-tall hanzi were connected to one another with tapering, starburst-like trails of white and translucent bricks.

Making my way through the central dance-floor, past many happy guests, I entered the well-lit men’s facilities at the rear, whose walls were lined with yellowish-white tiles. Desiring privacy, I opened the doors to both water-closets at the back of this room, only to find sit-down toilets on raised platforms crammed into tiny rooms into which I did not feel like going, as they were dark and terribly close.

Turning instead to a bank of sinks and mirrors on the other wall, I had a conversation with some people milling about there, then exited the restroom into a rear performance space in which a man was playing a keyboard and singing, accompanied by another artist playing the drums. Excited at the quality of the music, I loosed a loud war-whoop, startling many of the black-clad guests who seemed to be enjoying the show (with their backs turned toward me), at which point I was approached by an usher in a black jacket with red lapels who grabbed my left elbow and started leading me to an open hangar door that gave out onto a side road. Halfway there, I shook off his grasp, telling him to not touch me, then mockingly asked him if I had to leave through the hangar door or if I could use the same door through which I’d entered. Realizing that I had offended him, I bowed to him with hands pressed together at the heart, a Thai wai. He stayed silently at my left-hand side, looking at me with widened eyes, until I returned to the land of mortal consciousness - and the pressing need to urinate.

As soon as I lay back down in bed after having finished voiding my bowels in the temporal commode, my alarm-clock rang, signaling the start of morning practices.

americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan

leisurely summer, “satisfying”

Choosing to lounge around in his boxer-shorts instead of going about his wood-chopping, garden-tending, and home-maintenance chores, 29 year-old Maryland native Frederick Rillenhof said just this morning that his summer of abject, sun-soaked leisure was far more satisfying than performing any of the duties he admitted were necessary to keep him alive through the upcoming winter. “I hope to have a job by fall,” the home-owner said while trying to find a way to make his window-mounted air-conditioning unit produce more cool air. ”And I'm going to need one to pay for all this electricity I'm using, and for all the heating oil I'll have to buy in order to keep this damn place warm when it starts to snow.”

Sitting by an open, southward-facing screen door of his four-bedroom home, Frederick, who lives alone, said he enjoyed feeling the cold air stream past him, because it cooled him off a bit before escaping into the blast-furnace heat outside. “I just love that,” he said while poking at a brand-new, touch-screen-equipped tablet computer. “Feeling the breeze that the A-C is making, knowing that I have a fridge full of food just waiting for me to eat. I got a call from my credit card company this morning asking for payment on last month's bill, but what are they going to do, cut me off? I pay my mortgage with that platinum card, bitches.”

While poking around in the tall weeds behind the house (after being shooed outside to pee unless we, “Wanted to go all the way up to the third floor to use that bathroom, since all the other ones are clogged”), this news team discovered a discarded ax and a decrepit bow-saw, both of which were rusting away atop a woodsman's sawhorse. Next to these forgotten tools was a large mound of good lumber, the ends of which were however beginning to show signs of rot. When we asked him about the wood wasting away in the backyard, Mr. Rillenhof declared that he was too busy watching a marathon session of a popular reality-television series that focuses on crab-fishing off the coast of Alaska to get to sawing or splitting anytime soon, and that he would handle it once the weather turned a bit cooler. He declined to comment on his vegetable garden, however, which was in a sorry state, indeed.

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