carmen ivy
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The Arcade Fire show was really awesome. The opening band was a waste of damage to my eardrums, though. I was afraid the speakers were going to shake loose my five-week-old embryo...but all was well at the doctor a few days later. I'm thinking the Arcade Fire concert started the baby's heart beating, actually. The doctor said it had only been beating for a few days, and the concert was a few days before I went. Weird! Maybe he or she will be an Arcade Fire fan.
I got my Arcade Fire tickets in the mail yesterday. Almost made me crack a smile, I tell ya.
I dreamed that I lived in my mom and dad's house, but they weren't there. For some reason Eliott Smith was hanging around, but I never could find him, I had just heard he was there. He kept finding odd objects in my backyard and leaving them in the house for me. He left me a really old TV remote, a tiny, functioning gun, and some other strange pieces on the kitchen table. I went down in the basement to my room, which is where it was right before I moved out. On my bed was an even tinier gun, and this one worked like a real gun and was also a lapel pin. I also discovered that he had wrapped my guitar in plastic cellophane and left it on my bed. It also looked like he had gone through my old issues of Rolling Stone and Spin. I woke up feeling sad because he was dead and I thought it would have been fun to be friends, even if he was leaving little guns all over my house.
Still can't upload music. They always stop at 98%. Otherwise I would have "Son of Sam" with this post.
Carmen
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What a bizarre dream ... but it's good to know I'm not the only one who has had dreams featuring Elliott - I've had several that left me with the same feeling when I woke up.
Two nights ago I had a dream that I was hanging out with Jeff Tweedy. But he's alive, and that of course, is a good thing ;)
That's a weird dream too. The only live celebrity I might see in my town would be Kirstie Alley. My friend saw her when she was working at a fabric store, and she came in with no makeup on and bought yard after yard of orange and purple fuzzy fleece. God only knows what horrifying creation she made out of that. So I guess my point is that I chill with Elliott in my dreams...I really don't know what my original point was in telling that Kirstie Alley story, maybe just that I think it's funny.
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Word to that.