11/17/16
I know I’m a little bit overdue in putting out the blog this month. Lately, for some reason I’ve felt a little unsettled, had trouble sleeping and had nothing but rather surrealistic dreams when I did. Of course dreams are often inexplicable and everyone’s are unique. Troublingly, mine have recently been ‘big-budgeted’ and filled repeatedly with what I can only describe as a quite ugly and loud buffoon or some unsightly sideshow geek.
Clowns are meant to be funny or at least harmless, but everyone is different: some think they are entertaining and some don’t. Some find them ludicrous, others take them seriously and the timid even find them frightening. This one paraded egotistically around with a funny goose-like-step as if he’d drunk too deeply at some nasty nazi party. And when he defecated racist and sexist shit out of his pouting, pursed up little anus of a mouth it did nothing to alter that impression.
It’s true that his overblown, pink and puffed up appearance with that laughable hair and his gaudy, cheap foreign ties were vaguely humorous in a vaudevillian, low comedy way. Those in the dreams those who knew anything about style laughed at him. I even did too. But he drew lots of attention through these very characteristics. A very large fan club composed of the duller, cruder, uneducated wastrels: those unable or unwilling to find gainful employment with nothing better to do but follow him on television as if it was reality, while blaming society rightfully or otherwise for their woes. To losers he had just the right stuff - like some winged deliverer who would bring new life to the ‘party’ and make things great again for those who agreed with him! Any who didn’t would soon find themselves rounded up, resettled elsewhere and walled off where they would no longer be a burden on the state - or something to that effect. The tone had a vaguely familiar ring to me for some reason. He seemed sure that no one would care what became of them after that and that he’d be able to do whatever he wanted to in general.
A kindred group of cronies clustered closely around him in public - as if lost - and looked like flawed carbon copies of him. It was suggested that they were related in some way or even his offspring, but the general consensus seemed to be that they had to be the result of failed genetic or cloning experiments because he was well known to have certain appendages too tiny for them to have been conceived in the usual way. But one could sense a common purpose among the clones that buzzed like a hive.
One would have thought it was the “D.T.’s”. But while my head is clear, I notice that since I’ve been ‘out of touch’ a lot of folks appear to be upset about something themselves. Perhaps they’ve had trouble getting to sleep too.
More of the same at my website blog: http://www.authorrobertmuir.com/blog
I know I’m a little bit overdue in putting out the blog this month. Lately, for some reason I’ve felt a little unsettled, had trouble sleeping and had nothing but rather surrealistic dreams when I did. Of course dreams are often inexplicable and everyone’s are unique. Troublingly, mine have recently been ‘big-budgeted’ and filled repeatedly with what I can only describe as a quite ugly and loud buffoon or some unsightly sideshow geek.
Clowns are meant to be funny or at least harmless, but everyone is different: some think they are entertaining and some don’t. Some find them ludicrous, others take them seriously and the timid even find them frightening. This one paraded egotistically around with a funny goose-like-step as if he’d drunk too deeply at some nasty nazi party. And when he defecated racist and sexist shit out of his pouting, pursed up little anus of a mouth it did nothing to alter that impression.
It’s true that his overblown, pink and puffed up appearance with that laughable hair and his gaudy, cheap foreign ties were vaguely humorous in a vaudevillian, low comedy way. Those in the dreams those who knew anything about style laughed at him. I even did too. But he drew lots of attention through these very characteristics. A very large fan club composed of the duller, cruder, uneducated wastrels: those unable or unwilling to find gainful employment with nothing better to do but follow him on television as if it was reality, while blaming society rightfully or otherwise for their woes. To losers he had just the right stuff - like some winged deliverer who would bring new life to the ‘party’ and make things great again for those who agreed with him! Any who didn’t would soon find themselves rounded up, resettled elsewhere and walled off where they would no longer be a burden on the state - or something to that effect. The tone had a vaguely familiar ring to me for some reason. He seemed sure that no one would care what became of them after that and that he’d be able to do whatever he wanted to in general.
A kindred group of cronies clustered closely around him in public - as if lost - and looked like flawed carbon copies of him. It was suggested that they were related in some way or even his offspring, but the general consensus seemed to be that they had to be the result of failed genetic or cloning experiments because he was well known to have certain appendages too tiny for them to have been conceived in the usual way. But one could sense a common purpose among the clones that buzzed like a hive.
One would have thought it was the “D.T.’s”. But while my head is clear, I notice that since I’ve been ‘out of touch’ a lot of folks appear to be upset about something themselves. Perhaps they’ve had trouble getting to sleep too.
More of the same at my website blog: http://www.authorrobertmuir.com/blog
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