Musical Monday vol 3.

A busy and good Thanksgiving weekend!
(Song/poem at end for those who wish to skip diary entry part.)

Got to go to family T-day on Thursday, which was fun. I like our relatives, truly. They are nice people and pleasant to be around. Jamie and Joel made is down from far Wisconsinonia and JP stopped in for a bit, so we got to see all the Joe & Rosie cousins, as well as having me, Mom & sisters all there. Practically a family quorum!

I am adjusting myself to the idea of representing a permanent minority worldview within my biological group. So what if their groupthink contains mores and standards of propriety I find limiting or occasionally non-life-affirming? Let them be happy in the ways that seem best to them. I can set up the Venn diagrams of mental states in myself to minimize the pangs of cognitive dissonance. Perhaps I can hope that finally, slowly I have grown mature enough to not try to convince people who truly do not wish to change their minds. It's not bothersome what the rules are, in particular; every such groupthink has slightly different ones. It's the manner in which rules are decided upon and enforced, and the emotional tenor of the disapproval earned by those who deivate too far from standard. Pity and fear, ja. Pity, that the deviant has bought for themselves inevitable misery and possible damnation should they not see the error of their ways. Fear, that such a one will not see the error of their ways, or will influence others to follow their polluted ideas and behaviors.

How much of this is me projecting memories of others onto my relatives? I'm not sure. Some, no doubt. And different individuals manifest their participation in the family groupthink differently. But I no less than anyone else am hesitant to generate controversy about it. Because while the resulting arguments could certainly help many people understand one another better, others would end up understanding each other worse. Or end up suffering emotional hurts they would not have the tools to mend. Hell, I'm not even thinking of any specific things between people--it's one of those inevitable things. Reminds me of the 30 Rock where Jack and his mom (who openly loathe one another) teamed up to prod Liz's nicey-nice and super-supportive family until all the hidden resentments poured out. It only took them one afternoon, and sure enough, the Lemons were screaming bloody muder at one another, Xmas or no Xmas. However nice we are, even if we are all genuinely sweet and friendly people, just being close over a period of decades is going to give any humans reasons to scream at each other.

I got to play some music for the fam, though, which was fun and they did enjoy. :) Where home is and road don't go, and Twisting (the TMBG cover), can't remember what else. I am becoming bolder with each instance! Aunt Rosie gave me a Diana Krall CD to listen to, said my voice reminded her of Krall. She's good; croonier than my style, and a smoother voice than me by far. Not a smoker, this Diana Krall character.

Saturday me and Dave hung out with Paula and did Thanksgiving 2. This also was pleasant and fun; there was no stringy thing there, so alas, no playing for me. We had food, had good hanging out and talking time--and then all ended up crashing way early because of food coma. Mmm, food coma. Sunday morning (with all the obligatory Dave vs. Paula snarkage, which indignity both bear with their own version of noblesse oblige) we loaded up into Paula's car all of me and Dave's stuff that was still in her place, and drove it back to Chi-town so that we can figure out where the hell to put it.

Then Sunday afternoon me, Dave & Pearl went out to Kyle & his girlfriend Amanda's place for Thanksgiving 3. Delicious food, numerous jello shots, and I got to drink mead for the first time! Amanda's mom Judy was there, and also her daughter Brittany. Brittany was cool, as cool as the only ten-year-old at a party can be, indeed. Amanda had made her a bunch of non-alcoholic jello shots, and she herself had sneakily filled an empty wine bottle with vitamin water in order to give Kyle a heart attack. (Almost worked, too, and we all got a good chortle.) So Dave got a hilarious cameraphone pic of this feisty kid, to all appearances getting terribly drunkened. But actually not. Twas good times all around. Meg had a heckuva time driving tired in the sleety snow all the way back to the city, but she made it with no mishaps. Kudos to her. Oh yes! While we were there I played teeth of the storm and destination please.

I came to wonder if the turkey part of my tower/turkey dream could be read to reveal my feelings about Thanksgiving. Though I've met people who've had dreams whose events happened in real life, for them it always seems to be more direct. I doubt either my brain or the windows in it would do things in any such straightforward way.

On Friday night, I had a dream. Instead of transcribing it here, since I was on the train Saturday morning, I wrote it out as a poem-song sort of thing. In my mind I heard it sounding a little bit like Bob Dylan's 115th Dream, even imagined Dylan singing it. (This helped me not mind so much when I didn't keep regular meter.) So here's my song for the week, even though it's not the one I thought I was going to have by now:

[the Pentecostal basement dream] 11/29/08

we walked past some construction
maybe twenty stories down
and fifteen more of scaffolding
away beneath the ground
we knew we were pursued but I
just didn't like the fall
she leapt off of the sidewalk
like it mattered not at all
I watched her plummet,
saw the puff of dust when she struck wood
and thought, "I hope she is all right;
I'd never land that good"

I made it to the bottom floor
my entourage in tow
there's something we were looking for
(where she went, I don't know)
we walked along a cell
with chain-link bars and handcuff locks
all hanging loose but hip to grab
a seeker who just knocked
I told the crew to wait outside
and slipped into the place
got some idea it noticed me
so I picked up the pace
there at the front
sat a skinny little book all bound in red
I did not wish to touch it
for I knew just what it said
I shoved it underneath the fence
with scissors that I had
then dropped them and got out
with my whole skin and was right glad

but when I reached the hall
my entourage had picked it up
it filled them with judgmentalism
disguised as Jesus' love
they lectured me for stealing it
and said I'd pay the price
I shook my head and smiled at them
and would not hear it twice
I took the book, its message flowed
I chuckled at the end,
"the Pentecostal Holy Ghost--
it's only this again!"

The last part of the dream
was a confusion and a rout
two newlyweds both found
that they were gay-when they came out
the disapproving citizens
glared till they could not speak
then the house filled up with water
like the ocean sprang a leak