Shorts

I once belonged to a writer's network that cultivated the art of writing extremely short pieces. Members submitted 200-words-or-less pieces to be voted and commented upon. Cleaning my room tonight I found some printouts of mine. I thought I'd share.

"My Dinner Doggy"

From whence my dinner doggy?
Oh tell me, if I please!
The one who drinks 'til groggy
Then pees upon his knees.
The doggy I call "froggy"
Because I'm such a tease.
From whence my dinner doggy?
Oh tell me, or I'll sneeze.

His butt was 'pon a loggy.
'Twas just about to freeze.
His fur was much too soggy
His tail flapped in the breeze.
And crawling 'bout his noggy
Were sixty-seven fleas.
They'll add fine spice to "froggy"
When I scoff him down with cheese.

From thence my dinner doggy.
Now where'd I put my keys?

"Pizza Dream"

There is the dream of someone else. At first, I may be the star in it. That's how it gets my attention. The hook. There's coffee and pizza, too. But it's just to suck me in. I'm there for minutes, I get some pizza, then I turn into a dog or a cat and then the real dreamer walks in and takes over. Last night I turned into three blackbirds. I woke up with a splitting headache.

Why does this guy want me to be present in his dreams? I'm just present there, I don't get to do anything, I'm just an audience in the form of whatever fauna he's obsessing on at the moment. I don't know this guy. I don't want to know him. I should be in dreams of my own. I have my own wishes that need fulfilling. That should be MY cigar, MY railroad tunnel, MY leap off a tall building to certain death. That should be ME drowning, flying, being chased by an ax murderer.

First Dream

Soon after Einstein died, within a month or so, I had my first dream, or first dream remembered upon waking up. I was almost six and had never remembered a dream and didn't know what people were referring to when they talked about them. The things that happened to me in my sleep weren't dreams. I really did wake up in the woods, after Alex took over.

The dream was what I would now call a third-rate production, a C-dream. It was black and white and silent. The sets looked fake.

I think now that the dream was influenced by TV and the science fiction serials I started watching about then. Now that I was going to be a scientist I was interested in the fiction, to see where this thing could be going. One of the places it was going was outer space, where there were aliens. The aliens might already be here.

So the dream had aliens. There was a cavern, typical of the cheap cavern sets of cheap Flash Gordonesque serials, the ones made of papier-mâché. A canal ran down the middle of the cavern. A cigar shaped vehicle floated down the canal to a large hall. Everything was very dark until a hatch opened up at the top of the vehicle releasing a blinding light. As the gradually dimmed hundreds of white troll-like aliens could be seen swarming out of the hatch.

Or, it could have been an obvious re-imaging of the nocturnal rapes.

I looked for a video that showed the papier-mâché caverns. I didn't find any that were worth watching, but I did find this fine episode of the 1936 Flash Gordon serial. It has all the sparks and flashy lights that were very sciencey. Plus, Doctor Zarkov was in it. Aside from wearing hot pants, which was lame, Zarkov seemed to have all the fun, getting to play with more of the sparking sciencey stuff than anyone else. I wanted to be just like Doctor Zarkov, without the hot pants, and without the beard.

Flash Gordon (1936) Ch. 7 Serial Clip

Ой, то не вечер

Video Find of the Day

One of my favorite Russian Folk Songs. I haven't succeeded in finding a complete translation but it seems the song is about a Cossack who nods off and has a dramatic dream, to be awakened by his Captain. Perhaps the dream is a bad omen. The singer is Kristina Vikhrova.

Ой, то не вечер. /Рус. нар. песня./ Исп. Кристина Вихрова