August 1, 2009
I dreamt that I was back at home, of undeterminable age. In the bathroom, I flushed after urination, and shit started pouring up from the toilet. I knew my father's presence, which I observed to split into two persons. The calm, nurturing father walked away from the vile scene, and the angry, irrational half came over to me and started screaming at me. I told him "all I did was take a piss", and he screamed back "all I did was wake up". He barked orders at me to go out to the garage and get the wet-vac. I knew it was imperative to get the wet-vac as quickly as possible to prevent the shit infested water from spreading, but I couldn't get into the garage, the lock to one door was stuck, and I seemed to have the wrong keys for the other door. When I finally got into the garage I was weeping uncontrollably, and I collapsed on the floor. I was crawling towards the wet-vac, and I couldn't catch my breath. When I finally got to the wet-vac I couldn't breathe at all. I blacked out in the dream, and awoke.
August 3, 2009
Thank you for entering the 27th Annual Art in the Metroplex competition. Regretfully, your work was not chosen to be included in this year’s exhibition. We do hope you will enter again next year.
Life is hard. The real question is whether this adversity is building the necessary strength for something yet to be understood, or if it is all a senseless waste of joy.