Dreams, notebooks, haircuts, and The Sopranos...

I dreamed last night that I was with an ex-girlfriend. There was a level of eroticism in her body-softness and the flirtatiousness of her attitude, but that was countered by her sharp tongue. It is one of my memories of her, unfortunately. She was one of those people who really knew how to revel in her schadenfraude, particularly in making fun of intellectuals or people with artistic sensibilities. I realize now that she was a bitter woman in some ways. But this was a dream, and in dreams there is no one there but myself. So what am I bitter about?

After a month and a half since my last haircut, I went to the local place and had the deed done. As a man whose hair is rapidly decreasing, I like to keep my haircuts tight, neat, and frequent, every month if I can. What hair I do have grows quickly, so I need to keep it in check. I have been cutting my hair the same way for 3 years now. It's a razor trim, #1 on the sides, and #2 on top. It's short, neat, and hassle free in the morning when I wake up. My mother, on the other hand, has this odd delusional problem with some old memory of me when I had hair, or thinks that it will be curly if I grow it out, or something. The upshot is that she looks at me with sadness, tsk-tsking me, and saying crap like, "Your poor head", and "I don't have to look at your head, I guess." She thinks she is being funny, and if I were to confront her addled sensibilities on this matter, she would break down and claim to be trying to make a joke, which would then make me feel guilty for standing up for myself. This is her MO. As Freud said, however, "There is no joke." I am bitter because, once again, I am being told by someone I love that I am foolish, ugly, and incapable of making even the simplest of decisions, i.e., I am not an adult.

I'm sure I'll get some flak from writing these anonymous comments from a family member who is probably snooping through my life, but so what?

...And another thing...

I called the local cable company to sign up for HBO so I could watch the last season of the Sopranos this spring. After walking through a swamp of tele-prompting instructions, I finally accessed a human, who, after going through all the crap of ID and authorization, told me that some number didn't match up and that I would have to drive to the local Charter Communications center (45 minutes away) and show a photo ID, etc...I told the woman that she was insane, said 'thank you', and hung up the phone. This kind of hassle is not worth my time, especially since I do not watch TV anyway. In fact, the first time I watched TV in about 4 years was the Oscars the other night, and I was appalled at the commercials and so on. What an idiot box.

So the upshot is that I have saved money on a service that I would only use until late July, and not be around to see for all of May anyway. I'll wait for the DVD's to come out next year.

There is good news in all of this flotsam and jetsam, and that is that I have found my notebook with the haiku I wrote in Vermont last weekend. Oddly enough, I had never lost it in the first place, but rather written the new stuff in a remote section of the book itself and just not looked carefully. I can be a klutz in many ways. This is just one way to do it. So, here are Tuesday's haiku, on Friday. One of them I wrote this morning, and is a bitter and sad haiku.

#19.
snow falling slowly
groups gather, people speaking
early calm silence.

#20.
crimson window frames
gaze upon the Vermont snow
recently fallen.

#21.
arguing in dreams,
she mocks me as she used to,
regardless of pain.


Johnnyboy