damn it, to dream of a garden full of things let to go wild, things that will multiply with or without human help, babies toddling through the pennyroyal, sparrow hunting sparrows, stalks of plants hanging upside down from trees for tea, and myself, rolling in the earth and the sun.

i had a super weird dream in which gdub was giving this important speech, except two rows over a man and woman were arguing and talking very loudly, and weren't paying him any attention at all. this was definitely a dream, because, rather than congratulating them and shaking their hands, i was *pissed.* i thought "you just don't *DO* that!"
well, it turns out i have to give a speech too. i go up on stage and don't say anything for many many seconds. this is because i'm trying to demonstrate the beauty and eloquence of silence. except the crowd starts heckling me horribly and laughing. so i start talking, saying that in our culture, silence is a thing to be cursed and hated and run from, that we never get a moment's peace, that inside each of us is a truth (and right when i said that, the entire first row, who were all in the army, chanted some marching song REALLY LOUD, and the theatre erupted in hoots and laughter) and someone came up on stage and told me to exit. obviously this dream is very unpleasant as it seems to mock the futility of trying to deal with the world calmly and sanely, and also because somewhere deep in my subconscious i think gwb ought to be listened to? yikes.

if i had unlimited piles of cash, i would seriously consider a sex change. gimme a penis, doc, is what i would say.
then i could become the kind of man i truly would like to be: dirty. i'd grow a scraggly beard, work on the perfect mullet, get very fat on whoppers, and drink a pallet's worth of piel's, OV, or golden anniversary a week. i'd have an unlimited supply of bawdy jokes and tales, and i'd tell em all to ya if ya came roun m'trailer ever so often. i'd like to be this kind of man mostly for that crazed fervor so unique to them and them only. plus i'd really like to growl, hoot, holler, poorly enunciate, live in a trailer, drink, eat, and smoke too much, go in to town for some pussy, have a lot of junk in my yard, shoot off m'shotgun at parties just for the hell of it, and scratch myself a lot for a while. then i'd go back to being a woman.

it is strange to think of one's life going by without something to teach. if not, it makes the whole damn rather sad and pointless thing seem even more so. and so i had a longer-than-usual head scratching session at what i could teach. i mean positively, rather than how to see the world cynically, sarcastically, bleakly, or dryly. cause knowing how to do something cool puts the rose colored glasses on again for a little bit. looking with scorn at the "anti-stress" label on your dish soap does not. unfortunately. ahem.
actually, i have been giving SO much thought to this subject as anything that might resemble a career in my life has fled rapidly after a quick shave smoke n shit. teaching now seems like a good idea, but i fence sit for a number of dismal reasons. one, i am somewhat haunted by a stupid quote i heard once, "those who can, do. those who can't, teach." meaning if your degree is in say, archaeology, and you "end up" teaching, you somehow can't "make it" as a "real" archaeologist. now this is, as mentioned, stupid as it knocks teaching as somehow a lesser profession, which is ridiculous. but i do understand what this stupid quote implies, especially for lazy people like me, is that if you can't, for whatever reason fulfill various creative endeavors, teaching will definitely pay those bills. it's a backup. in the meantime, keep trying, you'll get it someday. two, is somewhere along the way, i acquired a pretty bad habit of scathing self-doubt. speaking in front of a classroom=projecting confidence. and sigh-the-world-sucks-and-so-do-i-and-so-do-you isn't the best replacement strategy. three, high school english is most likely what i'd like to be teaching, and teenagers, for the most part, are jagoffs. not ALL of them, but a goodly sum. i once subbed a class where two groups of four or five decided they were going to have a fight with open bottles of black tempura paint, and time it just right before the bell rang, so they could all take off while i flipped out. subbing isn't the same thing, but yikes. you know?
fight club being so highly esteemed, i wonder what i would say i wanted to be if there was a gun to my head. and if only the fear of death would get me to do it.
well, to make this long story short, here are some good things i could teach anyone to do if they wanted to learn by a somewhat botarded teacher: switch tags at amvets. look for portents. get at least one tax credit. pee just about anywhere, for ladies. you know how to reach me,,,,..... ha ha...

just before closing time, late tuesday night. 10:45. a truck pulls up behind the pizza hut, dropping off a load of provisions. tomorrow is buffet night. buffet night saves the pizza hut. all day wednesday, the workers will work for the buffet. the truck drops a heaping load of frozen meats and cheeses, doughs and sauces. from the warehouse. from the factory. from hq. much prep must be prepped.
buffet night is from 5-8. maybe at 7:30 or so they can slow down stop making pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza. maybe at 7:15 or so, a few couples will walk in, some on purpose for the buffet, some on accident with a surprised delight. "oh, there's a buffet! well, allright!" but at 5:00 there's a queue of families waiting for the first pies to hit the hot line. 5:00 on the button, three hours to go. feeding frenzy for family, fat family fun, food food food!!! the pies come out at about 5:06. late. bad workers, bad. MAHMEEE I DON'T LIKE SALAD tension in those minutes, kids struggling with layers, coats boots hats gloves scarves sweaters all over the floor, musical chairs, the boxed in (trough?) kid has to pee all the time, relentless movement, lines and lineups and grabbing plates more foooooooooood and pepsi bottomless pepsi all around. shhhhhhh--- the pizza's coming out. go on, don't be shy, let the festivities begin. chemically enhanced sauce on tables chairs kiddy shirts mouths mouths mouths everywhere stuffing it and stuffing it and stuffing it again. line up sit down eat eat eat. line up sit down eat eat eat. the chatter and clatter of platters gets madder and madder, pudge of the patriarch, marmalade matriarch, roly, poly, insatiable, and max run yes run up to the hot plates. they can barely wait. get another pepsi, junior, so you won't get thirsty in the car.
buffet night saves the pizza hut. fat family, full, leave so happy, since they got it all at such a good price.