my thoughts are orange and pink

'the lady is a tramp' is playing- it sounds like judy garland. i prefer the sinatra version. his mysogyny is palpable.
so amid the workday bombast: sir galahad (honestly) the boxer, who had been shot with a shotgun (as opposed to a pellet gun, as are most of the roaming beasts in thurston county). zippy the chihuahua, hit by car. beanie the 8wk lab puppy with parvo; the teenage daughter had gotten her yesterday without parental permission, and the bill was already in the many hundreds of dollars. barney the pug with the proptosed eye (dog fight); while it was still dangling out of his head he kept licking it, causing a collective wince throughout the clinic. melodie the standard poodle with the red bows behind both ears, c-section. abbey the nutt, addisonian crisis, wagging her tail and sitting up by the time i left. not many cats.
lounge-singing along with 'moondance' on the radio. 'first date panties', a term i'd never heard before. i said something about sourdoughs in alaska (unrelated from the undergarment conversation) and everyone looked at me like i was mad. nobody had ever heard of that term before. the lobby toilet clogging. blair splattering uterine juice all over surgery. me slamming my fingers into 3 separate doors. fetal heartbeats on ultrasound. driving to work in predawn stupor, not using my wipers in the rain, the world comfortingly blurred. it was a good day.
another peculiar dream last night. i had moved to new york city and rented at the very top of a precariously tall old apartment building. it was on the roof, practically level with the clouds. upon walking towards it as 'mine', i realized that the door was actually suspended ~50 floors above the ground and i would have to dangle off a pipe or rappel along brick to get inside. began to panic- how the fuck was i going to get into my lair, and once in, how would i leave? the previous tenant hadn't seemed to have a problem with it. found myself avoiding the place... decided to ride my bike to the subway station to get to school. careening down a zigzaggy, 45-degree incline hill, nearly dying multiple times on the way down- again, passing people who seem to have no issue with the terrifying inertia. get to the above-ground subway station, leave my bike against a wall as i run a quick errand, and come back to find my bike stolen. start to despair. in the dream, i have given up everything to move to this fabulous city and have a fabulous life, and my home and transportation are already fucked. the dream gets frenetic at this point. i discover that by going into other buildings, i somehow end up in mine, so i am clambering through a very snitzy hotel with various costly boutiques- and a slanty floor, and ceilings that i have to hunch over for, as if i am tripping through a psychedelic cubist painting. off one hallway is a gourmet chocolate shop. 'free samples!' i think, and veer off to admire the intricate cakes with spun sugar and shaved decorations. i am then walking at street level of the same hotel, next to a sunny beach, trying to catch up with him. he is scornfully avoiding me. 'i am fucking tired of your crap' is either said or implied. i wake up. i sense a theme in my reveries. analyses are welcome. surely there is all sorts of mind-fuck hoo-ha to dissect.
this is another entry i shall not edit whatsoever.