Jun. 13th, 2006

adrienmundi: (Default)
Started with dreams about shopping(?) at a very run down bargain department store with my mom. A lot of the action centered around the dressing rooms; they kept closing them for construction, and then reopening them later. At one point, I had lost my pants while trying on some really ugly red shorts (at another point, I had a sort of matching shirt with the ugly red on the bottom, and white on the top). About the time I found my mother (almost three hours later: 12:30-around 3:00), I found some white ceramic tiki cups and beer mugs. My mom kept assuring me she "understood", but I just wanted to get the hell out.


Then there was a weird tale about a cannibalistic serial killer (who always carried a knife under his outer right pants leg) living with another serial killer and his family (in what seemed like my grandmother's house). At one point, the non-cannibal was planning on killing the cannibal; his wife (black, if it matters? the killers were caucasian) warned the cannibal, who stole the non-cannibal's beloved 50s roadster and made a break for it. He drove all over, eventually ditching the car in Alaska and making his way back to some generic southern state. At a courthouse, where there were a lot of highway patrol, he stole one of their guns (two snaps on a big brown leather holster: a long barreled .357 revolver) and started shooting another officer who he swore was the non-cannibal (even though he looked nothing like him). When they subdued the cannibal and were patting him down, some fat dorky guys noted the knife on his leg and identified him as the famous serial killer. After they took him away, the dorky guys were explaining to someone (I don't know who) that one of them was a serial killer just starting out, and the other one was a cannibal who "ate his meat." As the cannibal chanted, "He does the killing, and I eat his meat" over and over, I woke up.

Anyone?
adrienmundi: (Default)
I'm tired of having to bend myself to language, my own use and others.

I'm tired of the naturalizing and limiting aspects, the invisibility of ideology behind the myth of description.

I'm tired of having to "make do". "Good enough" isn't.

I'm tired of encountering language use every day that hurts, controls, limits, or erases me.

I'm tired of everyone getting a pass on uncritical use at my expense.

I'm just fucking tired.

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adrienmundi

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