miller's crossing

When I met you in the restaurant

You could tell I was no debutante

You asked me what's my pleasure

A movie or a measure?

I'll have a cup of tea and tell you of my dreaming

Dreaming is free

I don't want to live on charity

Pleasure's real or is it fantasy?

Reel to reel is living rarity

People stop and stare at me

We just walk on by - we just keep on dreaming

Feet feet, walking a two mile

Meet meet, meet me at the turnstile

I never met him, I'll never forget him

--Blondie, "Dreaming"

home away from home

They were just playing Blondie at the cafe I've been hanging out at. Of the many thoughts that have been floating around in my head, this song resonated with the ones having to do with illusions.

I went to the Portland Art Museum yesterday and saw the exhibit called "Rembrandt and the Golden Age of Dutch Art."

I liked the Genre paintings best. The artists hid "moral messages, which allowed people to solve riddles while appreciating their artistry." Another fun thing that the Dutch masters did was to play around with mirrors and then sometimes painting a curtain "in front" of a picture, acknowledging the illusory nature of the painting. The Dutch were pretty staid during the 17th century, but I found a sense of humor in many of the paintings.

My fantasy life has been active these days. And I worry that if I don't put some of these thoughts into action -- transmute them into external-realm thinginess, they'll develop their own life and cause all kinds of trouble. We are all alchemists to one degree or another. It's best to acknowledge it.

I've got to run and meet someone for lunch.