"There has always been a risky tension in “Louie” between politically correct liberalism and the depiction, if not celebration, of the coarsest, most pathetic male notions about women and relationships. (The show’s tendency to portray men as passive schlubs and women as dangerous neurotics can be hard to overlook.) Louie is the locus of that tension, and in Season 4, Louis C. K. sometimes seemed to be at pains to make his protagonist look bad: pressuring women to have sex, hectoring them about their indifference to him, whining and crying. And punching that model."
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I've never seen this show. Is FX one of those special channels, or what? Do I just manage to miss it?
But as to pathos and acutely emotional psychologic tension, I had the worst dream last night that was perfectly dreadful. I positively hate to even bring it up *brightens* goes like this:
I think the whole thing was provoked by story of immigrant children being warehoused in deplorable conditions by our government. Abandoned by family, used by political party. I could cry. I could. It makes me ill. So Ill I could wretch. And it causes bad dreams. I live their life.
In my dreams.
The scene is such a warehouse, a huge place, much bigger than any building you see, like an Amazon warehouse except even bigger, with more stories to it, and gloomier on the outside and much much worse inside.
There are filthy pathways that become streets inside the building. I'm with a group of men and we decide to go to a nearby place and play cards.
I notice one of the players is finding cash under the table and pocketing it all for himself. As players become drunk, as they do, they pull out wads of cash that becomes trash under the table. Even though everyone is unbearably poor. Everyone is poverty stricken. The clever old man notices and scoops up the trash cash into his own pocket under the table. So I do the same thing on my side with the trash cash that is near me.
The cash makes my hands filthy. Grimy. Greasy. The whole place is wet. Dark and dirty and dank.
We depart. To head back home to our hovels. But the streets inside the warehouse are confusing. A movie scene can not possibly capture the depth of depravity all the detail in clutter and trash all around. I am separated from the rest and become lost. I notice that people around me manage in their perverse ways, that what is lost in upright citizen morals and economic wellbeing is compensated in sexual license. You can have any kind of sex that you want. All is readily available and basically out in the open. I am hopelessly lost with no idea whatever which street to pursue. Any choice I make will be a bad choice and not lead me home, will take my whole life to recover. I will never find my home and there is no escaping the bleakness, and wetness, some streets are actually flooded.
Then, this is the shitty part.
There is an individual some decade and a half my senior in real life. Whenever he appears in a dream he symbolizes betrayal. I know it's coming. He shows up, expect betrayal. A one-time friend. Our age separation is permanent. There is no bridging that, that gap between us is fixed. He is always reliably shown leaving me behind. I fucking hate it. Hate hate hate hate it. And there is absolutely nothing that can be done about that.
From his superior position, he still has his own personal poverty. And that cannot be bridged either.
He suddenly appears with another smarty pants friend and I say to them both, "If only I could find my way to Utah."
How odd.
I don't know why Utah came to mind and out of my mouth but that was the first state that I thought of.
Now, this individual really does know his way around. In real life. In Denver I had already lived here for years, and whenever we went to a restaurant as a group, he would know immediately which route to take and insist upon his superior route amongst his friends who obeyed. He lived here his whole life and knew all the streets very well. That impressed me deeply, to just be able to do that. My older brother did that too. And I cannot do that. It takes me much longer to learn how to get around a place and I'm never that great about it. But I'm still better at that than any of my girlfriends, who cannot even tell which direction they're going, even with the mountains in clear view.
The betrayer says, "Utah? It's that way. Follow me." So the three of us cut right through the wall, ignore the streets as arrayed inside and take a short cut through a door and BOOM we're on the outside of the building, in the bright sun, and walking toward where the cars are presumably parked.
True to character, as in real life, as in every dream where this symbol person appears, he steps ahead faster than I can walk and disappears behind a bamboo curtain where the cars are parked. Undoubtedly getting in his own vehicle and leaving before I can catch up once again leaving me behind on my own to make my own way.
And the greasy filth stuck on my hands, my own dampness and dirt, is still unbearable.
God damn it.
That son of a bitch did it again and I woke up completely distressed.
Still thinking I can make it to Utah myself as I awake, being thankful, deeply grateful that did not really happen. But it will be as a lone traveler, betrayed, and ditched. Again. Goddamnit again. Yes, he did save me from the perfectly awful situation, and did it with panache too, he did pull me out of that, but that is as far as he's willing to go with me. After that, I'm on my own.
And I fucking hate it.
It actually shades my opinion of the real person in real life. It affects the way I behave toward the living man. It's odd as all shit. And it keeps happening. It's like a psychological problem I have that I cannot sort, that my dreams keep bringing up. It's sort of good at the same time as being utterly awful. It makes me sad.
And I keep thinking: he's going to die.
And I'll feel abandoned again. I'll feel left behind and ditched again. If nature runs true to course it is bound to happen. I can see it.
My older brother used to ditch me all the time. I could tell I annoyed him. There is a similarity between these two individuals. I do annoy people. Imagine that. Charming as I am, I still do annoy people so that they ditch me. I'm sure they feel bad about that, but eh.
The whole time the third person, also my senior by the same degree, is immune to all psychological insult. He snarked at me the whole way once the two appeared. And he really is like that. He didn't care both of us two were abandoned. He has his own way around and that is just fine by him. There is no emotional investment noticeable. They're both dreadful sociopaths and it shows.
If he was going to Utah Chip then it must have been the Crack Emcee. Just sayn'
This season sucks though. It is six episodes in which he tries to bang this Hungarian chick who doesn't speak English.
I think he got hit on his head and thought he was Woody Allen or something.
But the thing is every episode there are little stand alone bits that are brilliant. The one with the garbage men while he was sleeping was outstanding.
That's a horrible dream, ChipA. Well told, but horrible. I often have difficulty listening to other people's dreams, but not this one. It had me by the throat, the liver, the heart, the spleen, my whole being captured by the telling, the images evoked.
I woke up completely distressed.
Several weeks ago I went looking for more on "distress" and the following came up, which proved useful at the time.
Feelings of Distress:
Anger
Anxiety
Avoidance
Confusion
Desperation
Disgust
Exhaustion
Fear
Negativity
Overwhelm / Agitation
Overwhelm / Numbness
Sadness
Shame
Shock / Horror
Weakness
Ok, maybe me focusing on distress was a show stopper. Still and all, that was a mighty dream. A combination of story, picture, poem, personal insight and prophetic vision all rolled into one. Had I read it elsewhere without knowing the author, I'd have found it intriguing. As part of a life story and ongoing story of life being revealed here in pop-up form, I especially appreciated all it held and held up to light.
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