Postcard of the Day

[fflo]

Bonus:

These cards are making me think how an ex- of mine must've once gotten carried away telling stories and suggested to her colleagues that I was a stoner who did things like sit around all day watching the TeleTubbies. I was well past my stoner days by then (was before she & I got together, let alone moved to my home town in Kansas), and I'd seen the TeleTubbies all of once, but something came up when this one prof was talking to a group with both of us in it that had me scrunching up my eyebrows and trying to deduce what would make him say something like he'd just said. Can't remember if that was when Tinky-Winky was being "accused" of being queer, or what, or how it came up. But I still sometimes wonder what of what went into Greg's impression (and Linda's) of me was complete bullshit, and what the hell else my then-partner might've said about me, for the sake of having rapt attention or amusement for a minute or two.

Funny the little moments like that that've stuck with me. Clues I didn't exactly ignore, but also didn't even think of acting on. Once in a while I do recall bringing up some weirdness or clear fabrication I was present for, but only once we were alone, and I can kinda get now why that was ineffective, as care for the universe between us wasn't on her radar in at least one big way I'd assumed it was, and naturally would be. Okay more than one way, pretty sure.

So I don't usually write in the postcard posts, but since I'm already going: dreamed about Bert, who wasn't dead after all, but was all buff now, as if he'd put clothes on the centerfold version of him we put in Math Refuse (with his head on some body builder body). We were on the block and he was kind of bitterly sarcastic, and I think it was supposed to be that the cancer had killed him, and caused all the loss and pain, still, yet he also wasn't dead. Maybe like a living walking ghost. But definitely alive.

Weird.
 

Comments

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

I often have dreams that confuse me about who is dead and who is alive. Usually it's some mix of my dead brothers and my dad, and sometimes I have to think hard about who is alive and who isn't. Like, oh, that's right, it's "Dad who's dead, not Dave." These things never seem to go away. Fortunately, I've been spending some time in my empty classroom, and that seems to have subdued my confused dreams about it.

[fflo.livejournal.com]

Interesting that being back in your classroom has an effect that way.

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

I tend to dream about places I used to spend a lot of time in, and they get distorted and weird.