combatdavey
J. Pyper
jaysandpeasFiled under: Alarm to wake up, Bed, Home, Night dreams | Tags: bathroom, Bill Cowher, black lingerie, brick wall, bus, bus accident, bus driver, coach, fooling around, football, GS, middle school, NFL, QB, quarterback, running back, sex, short women, tackle
I REMEMBER TWO THINGS, and two things only.
Thing one: I was involved in a passionate, sexual affair with a girl, GS, that I went to middle school with. There was a point where we were on a bus, and, for some reason, sitting on a makeshift seat outside the bus. I looked ahead, saw a multi-coloured brick wall, knew I was going to get injured when we hit it. Then, of course, we hit it. GS chewed the bus driver out and the driver said it was my fault. We went back to her place where we fooled around. We stopped, suddenly, and she went towards a door on the far side of her room. It was a bathroom. She opened it and there were people inside, and I remember feeling nervous and anxious. I wanted them to go away. She was wearing black lingerie. GS came back to me and we continued fooling around.
Thing two: I was playing football. I was a quarterback or running back in an NFL game. There was an option play and I think I was supposed to throw it, or pitch it, but what I did was fake a toss and run it off-tackle right. I broke a tackle and heard my coach yell at me for fucking up. I don’t remember if it was Bill Cowher or not, but I do remember it was an iconic coach with a memorable (ironic, I know) face. I kept going. I was breaking tackles and pulling tacklers. Ten yards, twenty, thirty, fifty, they couldn’t bring me down. When they finally did I was about fifteen yards from the goal line.
Filed under: Bed, Home, Night dreams | Tags: androgynous, androgyny, chase, chat, dangerous, disgusting, Elly Jackson, exciting, fear, flirt, hand, innuendo, La Roux, note, office, phone number, professor, rats, sex, sneaky, teacher, the chase, the game, Tilda Swinton, university, women
THERE WAS THIS TEACHER, a university teacher, and I was either in her class or a visiting student or a visiting professor. We chatted, and chatting led to flirting, and flirting led to real hardcore innuendo, and that led back to flirting, and that led to oh my God I totally want to have sex with this woman right fucking now. She looked like Tilda Swinton but less androgynous, and, come to think of it, like a prettier version of Elly Jackson from La Roux. Anyway, the interaction was deadly: Flirtation answered with subtle flirtation answered with pull-away answered with flirtation answered with oh, you’re still interested answered with, answered with, answered with…
Anyone who likes the chase, the game, will appreciate this.
So there’s a ton of back and forth, and then I get chumped in front of other people. And then I notice when I walk back to her office, or my office, or something, she had left a note for me with her phone number on it. It was exciting, sneaky, dangerous, fun. It felt like I was in an eighties movie.
Later, there were rats gnawing my right hand off, on the other side of my hand. Like, I could see the back of my hand but was too scared to turn it around to see my palm, because I could feel the rats biting and scratching and it was fucking disgusting.
Filed under: Bed, Drinking late, Night dreams, Not at home | Tags: alley, alleyway, cauliflower, cuddling, fight, fighting, fingers, getting lost, long way home, M, playfighting, rat, roommate, sad, sad-looking, threatening men
I FOUND A SAD-LOOKING RAT in the back alleyway. I picked it up and it was cuddling me in my palms. Then it started freaking out and gnawing on my fingers, so I had to drop it again. It took a bite of cauliflower (why there was cauliflower I have no idea) and calmed down. I picked it up again and it resumed cuddling, then eventually it freaked out and started gnawing again. This process happened several times, and I kept trying to reassure the rat that we were going home and that I knew the fastest way so it should just calm down. I got a bit lost, though, and ended up going the long way home, and two men started following me threateningly. I made it into my house, figuring my roommate M would protect me when I got there. He didn’t, though, so I just beat the shit out of these two guys. I was incredibly strong. I almost broke one of their ankles until they finally agreed to leave.
Then I started playfighting with M. I could have taken him, but didn’t.
Filed under: Bed, Drinking late, Night dreams, Not at home | Tags: aide, arena, bread, bread knife, Caesar, death, die, fat, fat guy, flirting, French, Greece, heal, heart, hospital, hot female aide, infighting, Julius Caesar, kill, knife, lung, pain, painful, politics, Rome, senator, stab, stabbed, Toga
I WAS A ROMAN SENATOR IN GREECE (which I know makes no sense because Rome is not Greece, and I am neither a male nor a senator). I was kind of a fattie, a white dude, like, from Caesar’s court. I was wearing a toga, and there was some serious political turmoil going on that I was one of the main players of/in. There was lots of drama and infighting in the arena where we were. I had a lot of defectors, and kind of wanted to die anyway, so I told my hot female aide to just kill me. I didn’t really expect her to do it, but then one of my defectors came up with a knife, and I said, “Oh, yes! Do it! Do it now!” and he stabbed me in the heart with a bread knife.
It was very painful, and I expected to die, but I didn’t.
So I thought maybe he just got me in the lung and that I should try to live. So I called my aide to take me to the hospital. She was busy flirting or strategizing (who knows with women), so I started yelling at her in French to hurry up and drive me to the hospital in the car I had in the parking lot (of the Greek/Roman arena of course). We went on our way, and I became increasingly aware that I would not die, but that it was going to be a very gross process to heal.
Filed under: Bed, Home, Night dreams | Tags: alcohol, army, army base, blackcurrant, books, bowl, car, Charger, cocaine, Dazed And Confused, Denver, drugs, Ed, editorial staff, editors, father, flirting, football, friend, fruity, girls, GTO, highway, ice cream, leaf, Matthew McConaughey, medical attention, movie, quitting, service industry girls, soldiers, suit jacket, war, weekend, wheelchair, whiskey, Wooderson, yellow
I ONLY REMEMBER SNIPPETS OF THE FIRST ONE. I was in an ice cream parlor with my friend Ed, who was telling me about some crazy weekend he had planned with old friends that included plans to consume a lot of alcohol and drugs. He was half bragging and half fearing this weekend in his voice. We had already eaten and were looking for dessert. He figured out what he wanted quickly, a flavour that was ostensibly fruity in nature and yellow in colour. I was walking around looking at all the flavours, unable to make up my mind. A girl behind the counter was trying her damnedest to make good recommendations, and I am flirting with her, and every time she suggests something I come up with a reason that I can’t have it. Then it hits me. I want blackcurrant sorbet. I look up at the wall that has all the flavours written down on it and, lo and behold, there’s blackcurrant up there. The girl who’s helping me/smiling at me is on the other side of the parlour and I say something flirty, very loudly, to get her to to pay attention to me. I turn around and Ed isn’t there but my father is, and he rolls his eyes at her as if to say “Sorry about him.” The girl comes back, smiles, scoops me some blackcurrant sorbet which I end up eating, with a spoon, with Ed again, off of what looks to be either a large leaf or a bowl that looks like one.
Later, I’m with Wooderson, or at least seeing everything he does. (Wooderson, if you recall, is the character that Matthew McConaughey played in Dazed And Confused). We’d previously driven in his car, very fast. His car is a souped-up sort, a Charger or a GTO. Previously when we had driven around Wooderson was doing the driving but this time, when I see him, he’s a passenger. Some other dude is doing the driving and the wheel is on the right side of the car. Thing is, we’re so clearly driving in North America, out of what seems like Denver (I have never been to Denver so I don’t know; also, Dazed and Confused was set in Texas). So this guy is driving, fast, down a highway that is winding and bare. He brakes, hard, and Wooderson goes flying out the window, and lands with a thud. He gets up and dusts himself off and says something to the laughing group of guys that sounds like “Don’t fuck with me, I played football…for five years.”
Then he’s alone with the car and I’m just watching him. He pulls a bottle of whiskey out of his trunk and starts drinking it on the roadside, angry and sad. He looks like he’s going to cry. He gets in the car and starts driving again and he ends up driving onto an army base during a war. The car is replaced by a wheelchair. He’s in the wheelchair and he’s tooling around the base and I know he’s looking for the guy who humiliated him earlier with the car prank. He goes into one room where a lot of Asian soldiers, presumably the “enemy,” are being tended to. He then wheels over to another room where, ostensibly, he can get some treatment. The second room is much smaller and to get to it he has to wheel past a larger room that’s filled with soldiers and other army personnel. This room is massive.
Soon, it’s me again. I’m on the army base and I walk into a side room where two members of my editorial staff are there. I am wearing a suit jacket atop my clothes. I walk over to a box of books on the ground and read something that’s on a note attached to this box of books. I suddenly get very angry and topple the box over. I start to remove my jacket in disgust. One of my editors says, “Really? You’re really quitting?” and the tone is You’re quitting over this? I start to walk away and then I go back to topple the box some more, all the while insisting that I’m not angry but actually very calm. Another editor grabs me from behind and asks me to go be “calm” somewhere else, and I tell him to not put his hands on my neck. They’re forcibly removing me from the room and I’m insisting that no one touch my neck.
WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE THERE HAVE BEEN SOME GREAT ONES, but what’s happened is that every time I get the computer to write them down, they disappear. Hopefully this issue won’t be an issue for long. I’ll try harder. Pinky swear.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Via text message:
“I dreamt that I found yr notebook and it was a menu for a restaurant you were opening. You named the wine list after me.”
[Note: If I ever do open a restaurant, I will find a way to name the wine list after her.]
Filed under: Alarm to wake up, Bed, Drinking late, Home, Night dreams | Tags: Adidas, automotons, Dallas Cowboys, Deion Sanders, dress shirt, football, group, high tops, job, line of scrimmage, mean, punt, QB, safety, Scientology, Seattle Supersonics, sneakers, teammates, WR, zone coverage
WE WERE ENGAGED IN SOME KIND OF UNEASY PEACE WITH A GROUP OF PEOPLE. They were mean-looking, but not in a junkyard dog kind of way. Like, in an evil, cruel kind of way. They were also kind of slow in every way. They were kind of automotons and vaguely Scientological. There was a football game and I really, really wanted to win. For some reason Deion Sanders was there in his old Cowboys uniform, and, for some reason, he was playing kick coverage more than anything else. He had on these super cool old-school high-tops that looked like exaggerated basketball shoes. Despite the Cowboys’ uniform colours, the shoes were, well, kind of done up in the old Seattle Sonics colours. I started staring at them and then they became a pair of low-cut Adidas, like a pair of white Gazelles or something.
All of a sudden I was in the game, covering this loping receiver-type character who’s lined up to his QB’s right, in the slot. I’m a safety playing zone but I’m right up to the line on this fucker. He runs forward, I retreat, he cuts gently left, into the middle, and stays in that route, and I release him, because he’s running a really bad post route and we’re playing zone. The QB lets it fly and, of course, it’s headed for my guy. I turn and watch the other safety basically let the ball fall in front of him instead of picking it off and so I reprimand him. I pick up the ball and punt it back to the line of scrimmage because we’re not pros, but rather a bunch of guys playing for fun. The big guy I was covering is wearing a loose-fitting dress shirt. The QB says “What do we do now?” or something like that. I tell him he has another down, and I do so mockingly. He apologizes, “I’m sorry, I don’t play football.” I counter, “Well I do.”
One of my teammates then turns around to me and yells, “No you don’t, you –” and I can’t hear what he says, but he’s describing my job, whatever it is.
Filed under: Bed, Drinking late, Home, Night dreams | Tags: androgynous, Asian, B, bathroom, bedroom, beef, brunette, couple, dance, date, flood, floodwater, forest, girls, making out, multiple partner, Native, party, popcorn, S, scary people, sea monster, seamonster, sex, swimming, teeth, water, white fish, wolves, wooden structure
I WAS AT A PARTY, AND A CUTE BRUNETTE GIRL STARTED HITTING ON ME. We started making out, and another girl, who looked similar, was standing nearby looking jealous. I invited her onto the couch to get her to join in. We made out for a while, and then I ran away to the bedroom of a male friend to wash my hands. There was a dance going on nearby, so we all went together. I was in a big group of people including B, who was upset about something, and we were gently trying to touch each other, eating popcorn. I had a date with another girl, and asked him if he wanted to come along.
I kept bumping into S on a busy side street.
Suddenly I was an androgynous Asian male with an androgynous Asian female going together to this party where they had big pots of beef on the tables. We had to wait a long time for the party to get started. I became someone else entirely, and took my date outside (or my date took me outside) to make out. We discovered we’d been locked out of the building and there were dark scary people out there, and possibly wolves, so we had to find our way back. When we did, it was morning, and we were the Asian couple again. Another Asian guy accused us of having sex, and said we’d really screwed up by having sex so young, even though we hadn’t and had just been fighting off the ghouls in the forest. He left, and the Asian couple became a Native couple in a movie.
They/we were standing underneath a big wooden structure, in water, and the entire landscape had been flooded out. The male of the couple (I’m not sure which one I was or whether I was either one, actually) started telling the female a story I couldn’t understand. She would respond in English, and I could only understand half of her words. They/we started swimming to shore, and I suppose I became the male again, because a huge white fish started swimming alongside me. It was kind of a sea monster, and it grabbed my hand in its teeth. I gently insisted it let go and escaped to the shore.
Filed under: Alarm to wake up, Bed, Home, Night dreams | Tags: actor, apartment, cheap, former friend, halfway house, Montreal, motel, public disclosure of wrongdoing, punishment, shame
THERE WERE TWO ROOMS. Single apartments. The kind of places that look and feel like seedy, scumbag, I-just-cheated-on-my-wife-and-she-kicked-me-out-and-now-I-live-here rooms. One of them was being stayed in by a local (Montreal) actor I know and used to like but don’t talk to anymore in real life because he’s a careerist. The other one was for me. I didn’t want to be there, but had to be. I didn’t want to make eye contact with the guy in the hall or on the staircase because of the shame I was feeling.
Before I was there, I was with some friends, one of whom had stayed in “the room” prior to me and explained the less-than-good attributes of it, including but not limited to how he had to sign in, and tell people why he was there. I was perplexed. I had no idea why I was made to stay in the room, and no knowledge prior to entering it that it was a form of punishment.
There were three rooms to the apartment, all done up in ugly, thin carpeting that was to carpet what Astroturf was to grass: an inadequate, superficial substitute. The walls, the furniture, all the colours in the room were drab, low-key, dark, bored, boring. There was a living room and a bedroom and, wedged between the two, there was a tiny little TV room, ostensibly to eat tiny little TV dinners in. The internet was only accessible via a blue ethernet cable which didn’t stretch that far, and was located in the TV room. Trying to stretch the cable out (or something just outside the TV room door) I tripped and fell and hurt myself. The last thing I remember was that I was not relishing telling the actor, my former friend, why I was staying next door to him, because it was tantamount to having committed a crime and serving very public time, insofar as I had to explain to everyone what I was doing there.
