Glistening

Handsome Darth and toy. Can't wait to meet him!

Just woke from a crazy ass work dream. It was set in not one but three of the press shops where I've toiled – a mash-up from hell. A total transformation was going down. Everything from light tables and presses to walls, wiring and plumbing were in the process of being ripped out and replaced. And yet, we were still trying to function – print, package and deliver the goods.

At shift’s end, as everyone was exiting – leaving me alone to complete and ship the last print orders, I was given a fancy-shmancy long, evening dress. It was gorgeous with a black figure hugging skirt and copper patterned bodice. I was told to try it on NOW as I’d need to wear it to “the ball” later.  I did and, gotta say, I rocked that motherfucker. But, but, but, I worried, how will I keep it clean while I work in this dusty, filthy chaos?

My last memory before waking was that a friend reached for me, on his way out, grabbed my hands and squeezed. It was a supportive, hang-in-there-baby gesture and it helped. I felt stronger.

I woke, exhausted from this weird AnxietyMare. Who knows what this Cinderella-ish turn means. I’m honestly not still traumatized by the years I spent in those utterly craptastic press shops. Nope. This is probably tax scam fueled fear over how the fuck I’m gonna survive in the nasty-ass, chaos riddled world that America has become under insane Republican rule.

My sweet kitten overlord,

At least in Angst Dream City I got a great ball gown outta the deal. I seriously doubt the Zombie-Eyed Granny Starver and Corrupto Turtle will send me so much as a bouquet of dead daisies.

Midterm elections, where we throw these rabid jackals out, are just 318 days away. Just, ya know, FYI and shit.

In my current, Wakey-Wakey World design/layout gig, I’ve hit the big holiday slow down. Everyone’s much too busy buzzing around buying last minute prezzies, planning mondo family feasts and drinking themselves under the table (and Fred from accounting) at job revels to think about print matter.

The slowdown’s fab, really, but it also feels odd. I’ve been zooming along at speed, designing up a storm, for months. Now *WHAM* I’m barely moving – not even breaking a light glow.

I want to focus my energies so’s I don’t spend this slack time doing nothing but napping with my kitten overlord, playing gym rat and surfing the news sites and political blogs - working myself into a justifiable rabid lather. I’ve got a couple canvases on the easels which feel neglected. I’ve got a pile of books just begging for an eyeball. There’re rugs to be vacuumed and baseboards to be dusted.

This morning though, I’ve got tickets to a certain new Star Wars installment. Psyched City!

Dirty Blue Gene – Captain Beefheart