11 April 2019> 8 days 'til we move into our new home, chilling in Arlington in the meantime, which ain't so bad, convenient in any event, lodes of markets + restraunts including a pho place a block away that is phucking phonominal... far from nominal or faux. And good running, new trails we ain't yet explored on the SW side of the Potomac + just ran The Exorcist steps 11 x (would've run them 13 x but a group of 50 school kids came along). + cherry blossoms blooming everywhere... what more cd 1 need? 8 days til move-in +1 month til we're reunited w/ our possessions inklooting our mothership computer, so in the meantime we'll keep archiving from our laptop (what we use for Dreamweaver)... we'll flip from real-moondough back to our dream journuls, these sueños logged between 1990-1991:
July 23, 1990— Moorea, French Polynesia [correosponding real whirled journel]
I was leafing through this boy/girl scout pamphlet. It had the ideal boy and the ideal girl. There were old papers from someone else's kid and I was figuring out if it was good (in my opinion) to have kids go through this. I concluded that it provided for good memories, but laced with sinister overtones. I was in the clubhouse where boy scouts met and there was a sign on the wall that said in scribbly immature writing— "wear a Nazi swastika to identify yourself as Jewish." Below that it said— "D.I. is polish for: ]." I was very confused by this sign. (D.I. was supposed to be the cub scout equivalent of "teacher's aid," the older boy who helped out.) [D.I. was also a a punk band we liked back then (+ still do), whose logo was: + no 1 knew what D.I. stood for except the band.]
July 23, 1990— Moorea
There was this run down shack up in the mountains that mom owned. I approached it and there were all these sleeping wolves crowded around the outside walls. I jumped on the tin roof and held on for life. The only reason I did this was because I read a story or was told a story by (I think) David [older brother] who spent many days clinging to the roof because the wolves wanted to get him. I clung to the upper edge but there was snow and I kept sliding. I felt I had to relive the experience. I noticed a ledge where you could lie down and wondered why David didn't go down there. In the process of getting down I ripped some shingles off the top edge. I got down to the level area. It was this rotted roof and I wasn't sure I should walk on it. I could see into the house. I somehow got in. There was a cat. I noticed a hole where a wolf was getting in. I tried to stop him, but he made it in. He ended up being very tame and loveable. It felt great to pet him. There was a man in there that told me the wolves were tame when they were in the house. This man's purpose was to keep a logbook of things that happened to people in this house. He handed it to me and told me to write down my experience. The notebook was full of mom and David's writing and contained mostly a list of broken items such as plumbing, etc. . . It reminded me of a log from the Chico house. The house then became a tall, remodeled 4-story house. Susanna [x] + her brother were there so I gather it was the Block's home. They lived on the bottom floor only. We went exploring the other 3 floors. They were all empty and devoid of furniture, yet bright and clean. Her brother was happily running up and down the stairs. I asked them why they didn't live in these other rooms but got no reply.
[We "wrote" a story/visual poem a long time ago based on the first part of this dream that we don't think has appeared yet in any of our books, called "Log of Sleeping Wolves":
August 7, 1990 — Tahiti
I dreamt about a mean Scooby-Doo dog. I tamed him and then the dream turned sensual and i got a hard-on from petting the dog and felt guilty about it. In another dream, Susanna was pregnant and wanted to have the baby. I couldn't believe it. I tried to talk her out of it (the baby wasn't by me) and she had changed drastically. It goes under the classification of nightmare.
August 27, 1990 — Rarotonga [Cook Islands]
I've had this re-occurring dream that I go skiing. I've had the dream at least a dozen times in the past six months. It's not so much the skiing, but I always dream about the aspect of getting there. Driving up, skiing to the lift, taking the lift. And then something bad happens. Maybe it has to do with the building up of potential energy. [we continued to have this re-occurring dream + then a year later it came true, skiing in Argentina]
November 14, 1990— Alice Springs [the outback of Australia, correosponding real-whirled journel entry]
I dreamt I caught this fish. It was a big one and was on the line for quite a while. Somebody told me a cop was coming … it was against the law to be in the act of catching a fish but not once it reached the shore. So I struggled to pull it ashore before the cop saw me.
May 3, 1991 — Buenos Aires [Argentina]
I was watching a baseball game, maybe I was the catcher. Typical dramatic scenario, bottom of the 9th inning down by 3 with bases loaded, full count… the batter hit a long one which looked foul to me but the umpire called it a homerun. I was positive my senses had not deceived me and argued the call with a complicated argument that involved lots of geometry, basically the umpires perspective was wrong because he was not in line with home plate like I was. The umpire became a teacher (after the audience was silenced and I grew increasingly confident with my argument) and it was a class lesson. All in all it was a very quantum mechanical and relativistic dream involving uncertainty in position in particle physics caused by a discrepancy in reference frames. [correosponding real whirled journel where we included actual page:
May 6, 1991 — San Martin De Los Andes [Argentina]
I had a lock of Susanna’s hair, very long and auburn-burgundy. It had tremendous power and felt like magnetic field lines when I waved them around. I realized the bewitching potential I had with this hair but the only spell I wanted to cast was love. I acquired a lock of my own hair and “spelled” them together. My hair turned into miniature plastic Singapore dollar bills that glowed with power. They fell to the floor like leaves. Then I was in 9000 SW Caroline Dr [childhood home] with Kevin [Ulysses in our book]. I stooped to pick up the day-glo plastic bills but they were something else and seemed to follow just after me in my footsteps, like a delayed phosphorescence, glowing green spots. All the lights were off. I tried to turn them on (in the living room) but none of them worked. They started to scare me, these dots. Everywhere I stepped, they followed. Kevin was being cynical, saying I probably had day-glo irradiation from some food I ate. I went to the dining room (which I never recalled using as a dining room) and turned on the lights (dimmer switch) slowly revealing a small chicken. I laughed and thought this would give Kevin a good laugh. I coerced him to continue guessing what the dots were (they were chickens eyes) meanwhile, the chicken, in a sad state, wandered into the kitchen. Kevin refused to guess, but his curiosity got him. He got up and looked into the kitchen and a little kitten was trying to fuck the chicken. [this dream was used in Marsupial]
May 9, 1991 — Valdivia [Chile]
Me and this black guy (who actually was a part of me, he was my subconscious) were climbing this building. Actually, the black guy was climbing and the white guy was catching a free ride disguised as the “guardian angel” hovering above him. “I” kept hovering between the two perspectives. The white guy was cautious, saying we’d get arrested while the black passionately wanted to make it to the top even though it was against the law. A cop caught us, told us to lay down spread eagle and gave us a long list of instructions involving stuff like taking our clothes off and wrapping them in the ring of our finger. The black side got up and started telling jokes to the cop while the white side was afraid the black side would get shot. [think we may have used this dream in A Raft Manifest]
May 21, 1991 — San Martin De Los Andes [Argentina]
This guy and girl were chasing me through a shopping mall, trying to kill me. I jumped in this car with someone but they chased us on a Harley, trying to bounce off walls to cause a traffic jam. I climbed up this wall and was in an international airport and ran through the checkpoint because I wanted to be arrested. But they wouldn’t arrest me. They just laughed. I had the guy who gave me a ride’s license and they just laughed and made fun of me. The two people who were trying to kill me casually walked through and got on the plane. There were performers from the San Francisco music festival that I had seen before.
The night before I was on a plane to China but realized my passport was in the bag I checked in and I had to go through immigration first. [we're using this dream in an episode of Textiloma]
June 1, 1991 — San Martin De Los Andes
I dreamt of the girl with laser vision again. Her name is Quantum. She melted walls and sheets of metal with her vision. She singed holes. She was capable of extreme evil but I tamed her with affection and seduced her. Some fat man watched while I had sex with her, he handed me the rubber. She went off and killed him but had respect for me and didn’t kill me.
I also dreamt I was in an earthquake in Chile. I was in a shelter and there was no food or water and lots of dying people.
August 11, 1991 — Ajijic [Mexico, correosponds to the real-moondough journel we have yet to transcribe]
I was in this underground tunnel climbing up. I came out in a meadow. Adrenalin rushed through my body and I started howling like a wolf. I heard wolves in the distance but saw no wolves or other animals near me. I felt safe because I was near the tunnel. But then I had an overwhelming desire to run, to just run. I ran down the tunnel, precariously jumping from ladder to ladder and almost overshooting, always on the brink of control. I wanted to just run.
Then I was in the waiting terminal for an airplane. We were loaded onto a triangular shape thing that supposedly could fly. I was seated on the very top next to some woman who had a stack of dishes. the safest place she could store them was behind my head. I was psyched to fly and see the moon. The first day of a new moon. It was a thrill to fly in an open air thing that I had a memory of doing before. I was wrapped in a blanket and had the seat belt strapped over me. We were ordered to get off the thing and wait. I was anxious to go. I climbed up to my chair but it would tip backwards without the other passengers to weight it down.
August 27, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I needed to take my garbage away, they had fees listed for garbage of different scientific names, all at outrageous prices.
Then some old women wanted to share my bed. It was non-sexual and non-erotic but we somehow ended up in an awkward playful tangle. That was after we discovered the futon had a moldy hole and we saw a rat crawl out of it.
Sept. 2, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
Met this girl traveling. She was really nice and beautiful. I had this non-existent cousin who had this house in this weird place and I was staying there. So was Kevin and he had a sort of art show there. All his pieces were maps with arrows all over them. This girl i had just met freaked out as we were arriving. Said she didn't feel comfortable asking him to stay there. I told her it wouldn't be a big deal. She backed into the stairwell and started crying. I held her face in my palms and stroked her hair, feigning affection for her. Finally she consented. We walked in and I realized I didn't even know her name. I was saying "I didn't catch your name" or "you're name slipped my mind" as we were entering the kitchen where this cousin with the curly dark hair was. She just went off and grabbed some noodles out of a strainer and started eating them. Kevin and my cousin were staring at her like who the fuck is that. I had to hold a bowl under her chin because she was neurotically chewing and salivating. The thing is, it wouldn't have been a problem for her to stay if she just acted normal. But the guy told me she couldn't stay.
Sept. 6, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
On this hike I met 2 girls. They gave me a ride in this beat up VW. Squirrels and ferrets were trying to get in. The car was cluttered with a compressor and lots of paint. The driver said sometime this weekend we have to paint… I said why not this afternoon, do it all. She only had enough for 10 percent but that would keep us busy. The paint was white.
Then we were on a mission to go really far down under water in a high tech submarine. Nobody was ready but it punctually started at 7 pm. We dropped through this chute and started descending rapidly. It felt like free fall. I asked the dude if we would stop every once in a while to adjust the pressure. He said no way, that we had these IVs stuck in our arms that would chemically take care of the bends and embolisms. I was freaking out. I wanted to adjust naturally. We were plunging and the pressure felt like I was going to pop. They had lousy greasy food at a soda fountain with Far Side cartoons of mad scientists with very complicated chain reaction machinery, where every step depended on the previous.
Then we were in a Camaro. One gas attendant told us our tires were overinflated. The next said they were dangerously low. We all ran away, volatile explosive, I didn’t know who "we" is.
Then we were playing twister with sun spots. The pinhole images through the trees.
Sept. 15, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I was supposed to leave on this trip but there was going to be a nuclear explosion and I wanted to stick around to see it. I was with David, we tried to go to the academic office to see if I could arrange to take this test on the 5th (an excuse to see the explosion on the 4th) the secretary was totally bragging when I made my request. She was all confused about my records (after we had to cross the street full of tire lines of robotic mountain bikes and people in wheel chains that all looked exactly the same). While I was waiting I saw this strange man suspiciously sitting in back. He saw nobody was looking and starting punching the time clock to his card over and over frantically. Richard Feynman was at the desk behind me and I tried to get his attention to get the guy but he was busy on the phone. So I ran over to the man as he sped away but I grabbed his card. I tried to show it to the secretary—she was totally flustered with my work and this was the last straw and she began crying.
Then I saw a diagram of light going through a lens—apparently light doesn’t go through the lens. It was sort of high jump diagram and the index of refraction is because some materials take longer and the photons have to try again and again.
Sept 18, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I was riding my bike on the side of the freeway. It was rush hour. People kept running me off the side of the road. Some man hit me then got friendly and started telling me about this weird freaky woman he used to know. This other car was purposely pushing me off the ramp even though that’s not even where he’s going. I’m like “fuck you asshole.” There was a little 12-year old kid in a hot rod, his hair feathered back. I got to an underpass where a lot of people were gathered staring at bumper to bumper traffic. I saw X and said “hey, are you looking for me?” She said “yah, I figured I’d find you here.” It turned out to be designated area where they allowed homeless people to sleep, a big dirt lot under an overpass. There were people in circles sleeping against one another. There was this man who was drunk and another bum was stealing his shoes while he was staggering about. He polished the pair of sandals off and decided they’d do. Then he took the flannel shirt the drunk man had. It was hot but maybe the bum was thinking ahead for the winter.
Sept 20, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
We were in this class. The teacher had boxes of stereos. He was more like a businessman trying to sell me stereos. He was playing “music” which was actually a visual image of a light bulb filament. He was taking it through successive stages of distortion and magnification and eventually led back to the original image of the filament—demonstrating the fractal nature of this stereo. I asked him how he did it, but he was too busy trying to sell these stereos. Some of the boxes had miniature colored baseball bats sticking out of the sides. I examined the stereo and deduced that the first stage involved sending the signal through this special pronged cord into a condenser in back. X was there too. We had to be somewhere but she was polite and offered to walk this guy to his “car” ( actually a huge modern bus with just him and his stereos) and I politely followed behind staring at her curly red hair that shined with brilliance.
Sept 26, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
There was 4 of us, the killer, a girl, me an imaginary few instiller (sp?). The killer was a big dude with long hair and a goatee, the girl was having sex with him, she was pulling on his tongue. They were outside on a patio in some weird city. Then she went inside. I knew she was going to get a razorblade to cut his tongue off. He lay there naked on the massage table, the he heard her rustling through the drawer in the house and it occurred to him what was up. He pulled out his switchblade and threw it into the house and it stuck into a kitchen cupboard. He went in after it, then followed her up the stairs. I materialized, I was no longer just an observer. I followed them back up the stairs. It was very dark. I threw something into an empty room. I heard him scuttle towards that room. I wondered whether that would help her, or it could things worse. I stood in the. Stairwell. Then started screaming “no, don’t kill me!” then braking things. That attracted him down. I sat calmly at the table drinking beer. He joined me. He was incredibly nervous. He thought I was his friend and was confiding to me how there was someone else up who was trying to kill him. He became totally distraught and vulnerable and I became more mellow and in control cuz I knew that person was me—that I would kill him, that I became the hunter rather than the hunted. The calculator was my switchblade, firmly in my back pocket.
October 10, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I was hanging out with a physics colleague. This blind girl walked in and they were already good friends. They talked a while then the blind girl slowly meandered towards the wall. A couple of people went to stop her from running into the wall, and she slowly fainted, falling backwards. Someone caught her but the second she hit the floor she went into this spastic tantrum. She started spazzing out and screaming and kicking her feet. A few people tried to hold her down but that only made matters worse because she didn’t like to be touched. But they had to keep her from hurting herself. She would settle into a position and stop then everybody would let go. Then as if she had an innate 6th sense, she sensed an evil force in the room and began flipping out. She fell towards me and I reached for her head to stop her from bumping it. The second I touched her she let out a deafening spine-chilling scream and reeled away from me in terror. It was then that everybody knew I was the cause all of this. I knew it too, because before that I was getting some really intense vibes. She threw a fit all over the place then fell. All the other people were very caring friends of her. They would call her name and say “stop it, I love you” and slap her face to snap her out of it. She was passed out then her hand came creeping towards me. I grabbed it then she became electric, “who is this? Who is this?” and scream in terror. I was getting electric shocks from her hand. Then she started feeling me all over, exploring and I submitted. All eyes were upon me as I was the evil perpetrator that was causing this to happen to their friend. She took my face in her hands feeling all over. She was still ecstatic and wild and out of control. She stared screaming “don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” and trying to push me away but clinging to me at the same time. Then she was on her back and she grabbed my face between her hands and said “don’t let me die! don’t let me die!” She started “staring at me” intensely with glowing eyes that began to burn into me like lasers with vivid bright piercing colors. They transmitted a premonition of how we would inevitably fall into a passionate love affair and she would get sick and die. “Don’t let me die,” she kept saying. We were in this intense stand-off, like witch meets witch. She was trying desperately to get away from me but was falling madly in love with me, and I was so narcissistic I let her. She was stealing my energy. I flew backwards and crashed against the wall with incredible force. I became incredibly weak. Her tantrum became one of the inevitable nature of things beyond her—there was this intense attraction between us that she associated with bringing her death. But there was no point fighting it as it was fate. I was telling myself I didn’t want to get involved in a relationship that would lead to such hardship and her death, but it was beyond me. it was fate. [correosponds to "In Cursive Spelling" in Poste Restante, here's the correosponding "Exhibit B. Curfew Validation":
November 1, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I was kicking a field goal. I propped the ball on a clump of grass. The field goal was blocked by a big tree. So instead I kicked it over to Jesus and my other physics colleagues. It was a really good kick and I would have made the field goal if the tree wasn’t in the way.
Then this man came up to me, supposedly my neighbor, and asked if I could clean up these basketball courts in our backyard. They were overgrown with weeds and very messy.
Nov 16—Tucson, AZ
The road I used to bike on—that had a nice bike lane—was not a 4-lane road that swallowed up the bike lanes. S and I were biking to her brother’s where there were a bunch of people with shiny new mountain bikes were lined up on a long mound. We thought it was for recreation but they were about to race. Every part on my beater bike was black. Every part on S’s bike was neon orange. I went to a bike store to get a part, but all parts for old bikes were banned. If you had an old bike like my old Schwinn, they would recall and trash it. Then I was trying to buy neon orange guitar strings. They didn’t have them so I had to settle for the regular kind, haggling the price to ½ of what they asked.
November 28, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
I switched schools and moved to another town. I walked out to the corner to wait for the bus. I saw a falling star go backwards, from the horizon up. A large group of students (50) showed up like they had just gotten out of a party. When the bus came it was a school bus. Everybody squeezed on and we were very rowdy. We all started groaning and moving back and forth, the whole bus as a whole looked like it was having a sex, at least to anybody on the outside. We thought it was hilarious. There was a professional musician on the bus that was hired to sing us songs. I realized I forgot where my schedule of classes were. I had nothing but a pen.
It was a very long journey on country backroads. We arrived and me and this other girl and guy went off to find our classes. We came to a pool of water and started hopping across on some rocks. We came to one point where we just had to get our feet wet. They were squeamish but I just jumped into the shallow water came to a large rock. Beyond it was a very deep clean pool with some big fishes. I commented on how big they were and said they must be at least 9 inches (though I thought they were even bigger. people always exaggerated when estimating the size of fish so I figured it was better to underestimate.) The other guy said, ‘no way, they’re at least 12 inches’. The rock was at the base of a square overhanging cliff leading up the university. They gave up because they thought there was no way we could get up, but I noticed a chain rail overhead, the ledge we were under. I reached up and grabbed it and swung out. The girl was holding on to another part and let go. It let the slack out and I hit the water, it was waist deep. I was able to climb out, I was just upset about having to go to class in wet pants. I ended up in this pool side area with people in lounge chairs. The girl and guy were talking forever (Adam and Eve). He finally appeared in a bathrobe, he used a towel to climb out without getting wet. I had no idea where to begin finding my classes. I was already late and my pants were wet, and I had nothing but a pen.
December 4, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
Dr. Hill [thesis advisor] was being convicted of a crime (I forget what). He held a conference with some the students to “talk” to them. I walked in to this formal room, most of the students were like high school delinquents. There was one drug addict girl that was crying. I sat down at the end, he started questioning students one by one— he was behind a plastic bubble so I couldn’t really see. They were all philosophical and moral questions and didn’t relate to the specific crime. At one point he had to express his anger (“you don’t think I am angry?! Watch this” .. and he walked over to the board and started stabbing it with his pen.)
Then a heavy metal band showed up to set up their instruments. Me and this other guy took off and decided to walk around this lake. I had bare feet. There were also a couple of other people with us. He led the way, having troubles getting around the shore because he didn’t want to get his feet wet. I just used the branches for balance. The bottom was getting muddy and I was sinking. We left all the others behind us, it was just me and this other guy and I was leading the way. It got to the point where we’d just have to get wet. It was getting deeper and sludgier, like a putrid organic oil. The bottom like scum quicksand. Cliffs were coming down. The shoreline until they tapered off vertically. I was now swimming, calling back to the guy to jump in. It was getting denser and blacker. He was screaming back that I was to look for this cave. there was things stinging my body and I felt and saw movement, swishes like snakes and crocodile tails. It was getting scary. I lifted out my arms and they were covered with leeches. There were crabs and other animals biting my legs. It was disturbing to say the least. It was getting harder to swim in the gross compost of sludgy muck.
Finally I made it to the cave. I looked in and it was magnificent. A huge vault of Romanesque architecture in a state of decay. Or maybe it was a Hindu temple. I had to jump out on to a thin ledge but it was like this table top extended hundreds of feet on a very narrow shaft in the middle of the vault. When I got there I realized where I was, I yelled back at my friend that I had been there but only at the bottom (now I was way at the top but couldn’t get down). He asked me how I got there before, to the bottom. I couldn’t remember. Below me this woman was scrambling to leave the temple. She was looking up at me and wondering how I got there, but scared of me at the same time. There was a metal rod that I kicked off because I wanted to hear how it sounded (it sounded cool). The platform I was on began rocking precariously and slowly turning (clockwise from above). I felt like I was just getting dizzy. When I reached over to the edge to check I only added to the momentum and it started spinning and rocking more, getting out of control. I was extremely scared, I knew I would fall, and I was hundreds of feet up and there was nothing I could do about it. It was a very intense feeling.
I somehow managed to jump and cling to an edge on the inner wall. I looked down and there was a huge chess set at the base of the temple. I guess what I had been on top of was an extended castle. The woman that ran had been playing chess with some divine source. I took over her game and sat for days (7 to be exact). I can’t remember who won, but I remember feeling confident that I was winning. I knew I would want to write down this dream so I told myself to wake up (actually there were 2 other dreams, but I can’t remember the others). I woke up (in my dream) it was 7:15 and I had an 8 o’clock class so I didn’t have time to write down the dream. Then I woke up a bit later for real, and it really was 7:15 but a different feeling altogether because it is Sunday and can sleep in if I want. [correosponds to "Post-Holing to the Flesh Temple" in Poste Restante]
December 13, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
There was a storm coming. I was sitting on the beach with Brian. I guess it was Ajijic. I went to take a shit. Whilst on the toilet I heard the radio announce this severe storm warning. Everybody was told to get inside. They set it for 11:00 and it was 10:40. I pinched it off and ran back. The sky was a magnificent pitch black cauldron on the horizon, fading into several layers of ultra-violet above us. We seemed to be the last people to find out about the storm. Brian moved to higher ground. I was excited to watch the storm from the roof. It wound up obliterating everything in its path. The solar winds hit first.
I was in quantum mechanics class in Hotel Congress. I was very late and the only reason I was going was because I was going to Club Congress anyway. Chawn was also late. I walked in. All the partying noise turned silent the second the door opened except for Patrisciou [quantum physics teacher] who was bitching about how we should’ve not come in at all. It was 9:40 and class ended at 9:50. I didn’t understand anything on the chalk board.
December 20, 1991 — Tucson, AZ
Jess [our bedder-½ now! Perhaps the 1° dream she appeared in...] and I were swimming in the ocean. We kept swimming and swimming out but could still touch the bottom. Then some big waves came and it was deep. We were totally naked. She told me to catch the curl to the left near the rocks. It was very dangerous. The waves curled over us, it was intense like warm blankets, enfolding death, but also love.
[1992 – 1993 dream log]