The first one that I can remember with some semblance of clarity was the one in which I was a giggolo in New York. I was walking along, near the Holland tunnel. Then, I had, in order to get back into the city, to pay the tollbooth person $5, but I gave him a $10 instead and felt dejected and broke, because that was my last big bill and he wouldn't give me change or return the bill to me. Then, a metallic cream-colored Escalade pulled up and rolled down its tinted windows slowly. Only, nobody was in the vehicle.... I started to run and ran through the tunnel and ended up on my street in Carlsbad, CA. I looked around frantically, but I couldn’t see because the neon lights of the signs on the streets clouded my vision.
My second dream, the more disturbing one, was the one in which I think I was a psychologist or social worker. Tony's parents, or his close friends, or something, had called me in to look at him, because he had started using Heroin. All he did was shoot up and then sit in his room and pretend to play music, but his fingers never touched the keys and his instruments were all old and mistreated that no sound came out. It was almost Dickensian in the way that his room was covered in a type of cob-webb neglect. I couldn't even get him to look up. The only thing he looked at when his eyes were open was his arm and the needle he was plunging into it. I remember talking to a colleague about it, and feeling a profound and torturous sense of loss. Since we decided that he was a hopeless addict--and there was nothing more we could do. Pretty weird-sad stuff!
Ok, I just write a shit load. If you don't want to read it, then don't. But please do! heh
P.S. Sorry about the not-so-good language. I try not to say things like that. Actually, I encourage people to not say things like that, but I can't think of a better word. Let me know if you have a better word.
My cousin likes the movie Fools Rush In. I think it is because it parallels parts of her life (she is Filipino and is married to a Caucasian).
There is a part in the movie were Isabel and Alex are out in the mountains of Las Vegas. Isabel surprises Alex by managing to get Gray's Papaya hot dogs from New York. Naturally, being from California you would think that it must be some darn good hot dog if they are going to import it all the way from New York to Las Vegas.
And so it became our mission to find out. Off to Manhattan we went.
Where is Gray's Papaya? How is it different from other hot dogs? Why the name? How did this establishment garner mention in a Sony movie picture? What is the deal?!
I don't really like hot dogs so I would feel bad to pass judgment on something that I already do not like.
So, to put it in my cousin's words.... It was just another hot dog.
I have found a web site for us District denizen-bloggers! It's located at dcbloggers.com. Some great blogs for everyone to check out, and I think you really should. In addition, I added a comments tool courtesy of Haloscan. Feed me back.
I went to the movies with Lissa a few nights ago. I figured I would drive since she drove last time. We had a few problems getting to the theater (traffic, pedestrians, parking, etc.). The real nightmare was after the movie. I flat out forgot where I parked my car! It was so cold and we had to walked around in circles for about twenty minutes until the lot started to thin out.
And there she was. . . . My little Toyota. It was nowhere near where I thought we parked. I apologized profusely for my stupidity. I was so embarrassed. Lissa said it happens to everyone. I think she was upset with me.