I had a dream that we had a chicken dog as well as my real dog Buddy. The chicken dog was part rooster and part Border Collie. He had only 2 feet, like chicken legs, but with fur, and he also had the rooster’s weird, wobbly red stuff on his head and under his chin. It was the weirdest thing you ever saw, but I loved him. He was running around the neighborhood, unloved and laughed at. People were afraid to go near him, so he lived like a homeless person, finding refuge and places to sleep in hidden areas of people’s yards and behind restaurants and bars. We wanted him to sleep in the house with us, but like a chicken, he was very hard to catch. I was finally able to catch him as he was running through the front yards on my block. He was very sweet and cuddly, so we took him into our family, and people thought we were super strange.
Meanwhile, in another dream, my mother finally left my father and became roommates with my friend and artist Jennifer Celio in a downtown loft apartment. My mother called me complaining about the smell of turpentine and varnish (both in which Jennifer doesn’t even use in real life). She said that Jen played her music too loud and wished there was something she could do about the situation. So I had to pep talk her into actually saying something about it – very similar to a conversation we would really have. At some point in time (in real life) my mom stopped saying what she thought and instead sat on it silently, racking up resentment and anger, much of it towards herself for not being strong enough to say anything, which then lead to more depression and self-deprecation. …Oh, like mother, like daughter.
Dreams are fucking weird.
In real life, I had the spinal tap that I was putting off for 8 years. That is a long-ass time. I was so scared of it, you have no idea! But I got through it. I feel pretty sore today and I have the infamous headache they speak about. Laying down flat is the only cure, and tons of caffeine, which makes it so I don’t want to lay down at all! So instead, I built this new blog for Picklebird. I guess I heart Picklebird and Chickendog.
Also, the new Coagula is now out, so please pick up a copy at your local gallery and read the review I wrote about Rochelle Botello.
When I was a kid there was this guy on our block who raised chickens and he liked to dye them psychedelic colors. He drank a lot and it was always great entertainment when the purple, pink, chartreuse, turquoise, etc. (they were two tone and three toned) chickens would get loose and we’d get to watch him drunkenly chasing several of them –running up and down the block falling on his ass and swearing at his day-glow chickens in Polish.