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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary



The yuppie march forward continues.

We are spending! We are acquiring! We are doing our part to prop up our nation’s economy! We will soon have all the outward signs of American success, and we couldn’t be more freaked out about it.

It seems odd to me that even as we are hemorrhaging money, we are making investments: in real estate, in our futures. It feels wrong. And as we are making investments, we are plotting our Escape.

It’s schizophrenic.

There was no shopper’s high after the car purchase. We were both filled with dread. Sure it’s fun to drive (especially now since it’s raining, and surprise! The rain stays on the outside!) but it doesn’t feel real. We both think someone’s going to come around and ask for their car back.

With the apartment, it hasn’t felt real in… well, EVER actually. I’m sure that even as we close on Thursday, and get the keys, it still won’t feel like it belongs to us. We may change our tune once we’re in there, and the seller’s ugly furniture is gone, but I bet there will still be a little part of us going “What are the lease terms again?” or “When do the tenants return?”

The strangest part is that we are hell bent on leaving Connecticut, but every step we’ve taken so far has been one of permanence. I think this is the major cause of my nightmares.

Last night’s nightmare did not feature teeth, thankfully. Instead, it featured getting stranded on the George Washington bridge (which had been chopped in half so that in order to get to Manhattan, one had jump from one half to the other, while the freezing water swallowed up all those who didn’t make it) and then getting ripped off by gypsies while my idiot friends looked on. There was a big pile of our money on a counter at Grand Central, and the gypsies were trying to grab it, but I jumped up and tried stepping on the loose bills to prevent theft, but my feet were too small to successfully hold down the 20s and 10s, and I was seriously panicking and yelling…and on and on.

It’s so obvious what that’s about. And I think the teeth nightmares were easier to handle, so Subconscious? Can you hear me? Bring on the teeth please!

Also, since you’re here, Subconcious, could I also request a fantasy with Mathieu Kasovitz? And a dream where I get to tool around London with 1960s Michael Caine again? That one was great.

Thank you.

9:56 a.m. - 2004-09-28



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