ilovemikehunt

so there's a ton on my pre-sun-risen mind this almost bright and early morning....
i had a strange dream last night (i really like how this is a daily thing now.) i was werking (on something, i'm not sure if it was a job, skool project, or possibly something else.) there was a group of people that i was werking with including this one crazy white-blonde old lady. one of my ex-teachers also made an appearance; his name is angelo, he was my art teacher at the skool for dropouts. he was an office assistant, and he also taught some other class too. i can't believe that place can give out legit diplomas, it's truly ghettofied. uhhh, yeh, anyway. i had a crush on angelo for a minute after i left; i had considered going to see him sometime, but i decided against it. so, in my dream, angelo was looking at this chick's stuff, i think it was art and i think he was her teacher. he was like, "oh, hey." i was like yo. i didn't really have anything to say to him, i think i was nervous. i remember him telling his student something about how i'm friends with some of his artist friends. well, i guess i am that too...thanks angelo!
ok onward. i was totally imperceptive as the room began to empty out until i noticed it was just the old lady and me in the classroom that now looked more officelike. i walked outside and across the hall into this closet area (it was just a part of the room where the wall went back a bit, but the room wrapped around the wall a little. it took me a second to think of how to explain this, i'm sure it's still not very clear...my mind is not.) i'm not sure what i was doing in there or why i was just compelled to discribe it. maybe it's because i tend to do shit like that. i'll just dip off to a little hidden spot and chill for a second. i talked to some woman, i think she was some kind of boss of mine. i'm not sure what we talked about, i think it was smalltalk; her yapping at me with this huge goofy smile. i went back to the room with the other chick. she tried to leave after awhile to came back jabbering about how these guys had harassed her at the elevator and like held her at gunpoint and told her to stay where she was. i was like what the fuck? she went into a bit of detail about how that they had taken over the building and were downstairs gambling. she made the elevator men out to be big black guys with guns, although i never saw them (well, my dream character didn't, i had a mental picture.) for some reason i got all werked up with her and stayed in the room. there were lots of windows in this room; i remember looking out of my window and into the window of the receptionist. i kept seeing the top of his head over his desk cocked to the side as if he were on the fone...we kept making eye contact. for some reason, he really tripped me out. he had really pretty upper-head features
after awhile, i was starting to get nervous that i wouldn't be able to go pick up my car from the pound because i was trapped in this fucking building. my roommate, who was taking me, was at werk and said she'd pick me up when she got off.
my dad called me, i didn't know what to tell him...he wanted me to come over for passover (i have no idea why i think it was passover, i might be making this up now, i jus tknow that it was something kinda important.) i said i couldn't. my brother called me too, he prolly wanted the same thing. my mom was out of town, as she currently is. so maybe i didn't talk to them, maybe i screened the calls? or better yet, maybe i missed them and caught all these voicemails? i'm not sure. my mom also called me and told me i should go. hmmm, ok. this is the part of the dream that doesn't make any sense (oh my god, i should've left the silly double-negative that i just threw in here. ha ha, that was so out of character; i don't never use double negatives,) there wasn't much closure...
my dream ended abruptly as i woke up all tweakishly to my door being pounded, lights turned on, and my roommate yelling; "LAURA, GET UP!!! i'm in a rush, i'm late!" yeh, what else is new? she said she was sorry..she's not sorry. she was taking me to get my car on her way to werk, werd up. the fucking thing was towed last night, i found it at like 2:30, but she didn't want to take me then blah blah blah, i got my car...i'm now $125 indebted to my parents. i always love that.
it's cold..the drive home was cold, but very nice and trenquil; none of my stuff was missing...the lady there was very nice. so, i smoked a cigarette and tuned into WNUR. like whoa, emo show...not my style, but i checked it out anyway. i came to this conclusion:
emo is very expressive music. the emo musicians are successful in making their music melancholy and whiney, which is precisely what they've set out to do. werd to them. some of the sounds are very aesthetically appealing (the individual guitar sounds, etc.) while some of them are not (whiney emo/neo-punk rock-voices. ) i can appreciate emo from a distance and accept that i don't really like it, simply, because i cannot relate to flowery victimizing music; my melancholia tends to manifest itself in a more sinister and aggressive way. on the other hand, i know there are plenty of freaks out there that can relate to this stuff maybe a bit more than they should. thus, emo music is ok by me because it caters to this needy bunch that might just end up commiting suicide if it weren't for their emo-super-stars...or maybe emo puts the knife to their throat. actually, that sounds a little too hardcore for emo...let me take that back and leave you with this: or maybe emo puts the bottle of tylenol (with codeine...oOohh!) followed by a glass of emo-juice down their throat.
now that i'm freshly stoned, it's time to listen to my new records before i go back to sleep.
afterthought: al jourgensen's old skool music makes me hate this frost-biten city a little bit less.