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zomg this is so weird that I swear it counts as fic
MY DREAMSCAPE IS FANFICTION LAND, I swear. Okay, let's recap some basic facts about my life here:
SO, BRAIN, DO TELL ME WHY I dreamt last night that - no lie - of the following:
The year is some-time-after-the-Election. For reasons that are already slipping my memory, people are being silly. I head down to a junkyard to see pre-November-4th newspaper spreads of Palin getting blown up by some pretty crazy people.
Suddenly (and I shit you not) the White House Van draws up. Not the "bus". My mind was very clear on "van". It was a sort of canary cream colour type thing. Barack Obama comes out, to my relief, and he takes one look at the disgraceful state of Blowing Palin Newspapers to Bits going on before he turns and heads back into the bus, calling, "Rahm, where's Rahm? I need Rahm here."
And thus Rahm doth come forward, in his snazzy jacket and looking very mature and not at all watchdog like. My mind mentally appends that this is what working on Pennsylvania Avenue and age does to someone. But Obama goes, 'There's Rahm. There's people burning newspapers outside. I see this as a perfect combination.'
And Rahm grins, an I-will-fuck-you smile, and clambers out of the van. He walks past me, I catch up with him, and obviously the next part of the dream is so violent that I fail to remember it at all right now.
Law, order and Rahmdom thus maintained, we end up going to lunch with David Axelrod (YES, I KNOW, I DON'T KNOW). The White House Van's gone off without us, so here we are in the middle of Junkyard Land nowhere. We walk. Rahm's gone back to being Serious, and Axelrod doesn't talk much. I mention that the Obama administration is very cool indeed and that I should like to work more with them, in a way that makes me out to having known them all from before.
Rahm says, vaguely coldly, "You decided not to join the administration."
I feel guilty, like I've passed over something. Axelrod hums from behind. I say, "Well, in four years, when I'm out of college -- if you have space for me, I'll come back."
WHICH IS RIDICULOUS CONSIDERING MY LIFE.
Rahm nods, and shrugs. Time passes in a haze.
We end up at a mall. Axelrod, very creepily in tune with his far-more-genial-than-Rahm real life self, produces... a bunch of coupons for food/beverage outlets. Bizarrely, all of them are located 9 (long) escalator levels down. We start riding down, Rahm and Axelrod talk to me about current politics and stuff in the White House while I sort of sit on escalators and act like a 5 year old child.
Eventually we get to the basement. Rahm heads for the food/bev place (Long John Silvers?!?!?!) that offered a "$9 meal" in the coupon, and is confounded by the sign there that says their set meals are, in fact, $18. He is ready to bust ass - Axelrod pipes in, "You have to use the coupon," and Rahm goes "Oh." There is a terrible moment when everyone realises that Rahm's never used coupons before, and then Axelrod and I crack up and make fun of Rahm and grab a table.
Then I am evidently too poor to afford even couponed out LJS, so I head into the departmental store next door to buy onigiri???? Almost buying 80,000 YEN ones before finding the it's-almost-10pm-so-we're-clearing-stock cheapass onigiris at the back. All this time I am (dream) thinking to myself, no one will believe I'm talking to them, WHICH IS RETARDED, since apparently we are all BFF.
And then I wake up, and decide that this dream is probably better than fic, if you just search-replace the word "I" in this entry with "Jon" or "Stephen" or "Anderson" or any other persona of choice. Now the question is - to inflict this on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
rahmbamarama (I'm looking at you, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
evercourant, two_if_by_sea, charlie_d_blue, LOOK WHAT YOU GUYS HAVE DONE TO ME. I can't even WITHDRAW from fandom, it sort of follows me home and asks me to look after it!11!) and accuse them of my ills, or to go book myself a spot in a mental institution, hm...
- I'm not American
- I've been away from serious rahmbamarama stuff for a good long time
SO, BRAIN, DO TELL ME WHY I dreamt last night that - no lie - of the following:
The year is some-time-after-the-Election. For reasons that are already slipping my memory, people are being silly. I head down to a junkyard to see pre-November-4th newspaper spreads of Palin getting blown up by some pretty crazy people.
Suddenly (and I shit you not) the White House Van draws up. Not the "bus". My mind was very clear on "van". It was a sort of canary cream colour type thing. Barack Obama comes out, to my relief, and he takes one look at the disgraceful state of Blowing Palin Newspapers to Bits going on before he turns and heads back into the bus, calling, "Rahm, where's Rahm? I need Rahm here."
And thus Rahm doth come forward, in his snazzy jacket and looking very mature and not at all watchdog like. My mind mentally appends that this is what working on Pennsylvania Avenue and age does to someone. But Obama goes, 'There's Rahm. There's people burning newspapers outside. I see this as a perfect combination.'
And Rahm grins, an I-will-fuck-you smile, and clambers out of the van. He walks past me, I catch up with him, and obviously the next part of the dream is so violent that I fail to remember it at all right now.
Law, order and Rahmdom thus maintained, we end up going to lunch with David Axelrod (YES, I KNOW, I DON'T KNOW). The White House Van's gone off without us, so here we are in the middle of Junkyard Land nowhere. We walk. Rahm's gone back to being Serious, and Axelrod doesn't talk much. I mention that the Obama administration is very cool indeed and that I should like to work more with them, in a way that makes me out to having known them all from before.
Rahm says, vaguely coldly, "You decided not to join the administration."
I feel guilty, like I've passed over something. Axelrod hums from behind. I say, "Well, in four years, when I'm out of college -- if you have space for me, I'll come back."
Rahm nods, and shrugs. Time passes in a haze.
We end up at a mall. Axelrod, very creepily in tune with his far-more-genial-than-Rahm real life self, produces... a bunch of coupons for food/beverage outlets. Bizarrely, all of them are located 9 (long) escalator levels down. We start riding down, Rahm and Axelrod talk to me about current politics and stuff in the White House while I sort of sit on escalators and act like a 5 year old child.
Eventually we get to the basement. Rahm heads for the food/bev place (Long John Silvers?!?!?!) that offered a "$9 meal" in the coupon, and is confounded by the sign there that says their set meals are, in fact, $18. He is ready to bust ass - Axelrod pipes in, "You have to use the coupon," and Rahm goes "Oh." There is a terrible moment when everyone realises that Rahm's never used coupons before, and then Axelrod and I crack up and make fun of Rahm and grab a table.
Then I am evidently too poor to afford even couponed out LJS, so I head into the departmental store next door to buy onigiri???? Almost buying 80,000 YEN ones before finding the it's-almost-10pm-so-we're-clearing-stock cheapass onigiris at the back. All this time I am (dream) thinking to myself, no one will believe I'm talking to them, WHICH IS RETARDED, since apparently we are all BFF.
And then I wake up, and decide that this dream is probably better than fic, if you just search-replace the word "I" in this entry with "Jon" or "Stephen" or "Anderson" or any other persona of choice. Now the question is - to inflict this on
rahmbamarama (I'm looking at you, evercourant, two_if_by_sea, charlie_d_blue, LOOK WHAT YOU GUYS HAVE DONE TO ME. I can't even WITHDRAW from fandom, it sort of follows me home and asks me to look after it!11!) and accuse them of my ills, or to go book myself a spot in a mental institution, hm...
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Okay, yes. Except with the whole junkyard burnings/food voucher/mysterious van situation I was picturing the whole thing as some sort of post-war-on-terror-Apocalyptic Nightmare á la Mad Max wherein Barack still runs the country but it is falling to pieces and the White House is this fully hands-on governing operation with their vans and Rahm-as-watchdog-but-far-too-serious-from-devastating-loss, AND HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, LOOK WHAT YOU DO TO ME! THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO THE LANDSCAPE OF MY TWISTED, TWISTED BRAIN. GAH.
*shakes fist*
MANILOOOOOOWRBRRRRRRRRRR!no subject
PIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMP.
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I can't decide if this is the most horrifying idea I've ever heard ... OR THE MOST GODDAMN CRACK-TASTICALLY DOOM-FILLED BRILLIANT ONE.
What to do, what to do?
HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
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On a side note, excerpts from a fictional Vanity Fair article on Mafia!Emanuels; what would you most like to see therein?
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1. Style in the Emanuel family: did the younger brothers grow up copying the older ones?
2. Relationships in the Emanuel family: do any SOs have to pass any tests?
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And so of course a Supernatural apocalypse drabble would just happen to eat my brain, so when I finally felt like writing once more, I didn't even get to mafia. Urgh. ;) You working on anything interesting, ho?
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...
I'd totally read that. Just sayin'.
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Vanity Fair article will never see the light of day. Zeke pulled the plug and Ari put pressure on the Board of directors at Condé Nast. All we're gonna get are the unfinished extracts from the kid's rough draft. Which will, naturally, mean more dirty details. :D
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Little Ari slinking to Rahm's suits when he's not around; Brother's Got Your Gun --I am going to stop now before my sleepless delirium generates tentacle monsters. :D
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Sweet dreams. :)
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"
a;sfldkja;sdfkjas;dfkja;sdkflja;kdflj
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
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HE'S COMING FOR YOU TONIGHT.
WITH A KNIFE.