Dream becomes fodder for small rant

December 22, 2005

I dreamt that Doug showed me how, with a mild bleach solution, to turn old electronics (Walkmen, Discmen, Game Boys) from gray to a pallid caucasian fleshtone. (He called it “penis-colored” which sounds nothing like him, but a lot like me.) They ended up looking very much like prostheses, which to Doug and Giahn and a lot of other people, their newer toys are. Giahn pulled out his PSP in the tire store yesterday, but there were TIRES EVERYWHERE to look at, and SQUISHY, ANEMONE-LIKE non-slip floormats to walk across! There’s too much to look at everywhere to be constantly staring at a screen. My puzzlement may be rlated to the fact that I’m internally five, or eighty-five. I have an mp3 player, last year’s Rio Carbon, which I do love, because it works, because it’s gray instead of white, and because the shape brings to mind airplane seatbelt closures. But I never use it in public, partially because I am a small, hypervigilant person, but also because I like ambient noise and don’t want to give up birds, chunks of conversations, or the Doppler airslice of traffic.

Tangentially related: I try my best to avoid Rufus Wainwright (although his name is difficult/fun to say quickly) but I’d forgotten he’s lent his particular brand of mosquito-like nosecaroling to at least one Christmas song. A much-needed visit to a good ENT would end this man’s career.


One Response to “Dream becomes fodder for small rant”

  1. Doug said

    Dopplerairslice! I love it. More dreamsplz.

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