I've Kept Myself Warm with a Dream

It's been two days since I had a silly dream that someone loved me, and it still keeps me achingly warm. In my dream I was taking a bus to St. Louis. I must have been younger than I am now, because the bus (train?) conductor asked me what I would do when I got to St. Louis. He was concerned that I had no plans, no money, and no friends; he warned me that the city would be rough where the bus was getting off.

I was frightened, and when the bus stopped for a rest, I asked my partner what we would do. He had spent some time in St. Louis and I hoped he knew a friend we could stay with until we figured out how to leave the rough part of the city. He shook his head and reached for my hand: "I don't know anyone in St. Louis who can help us. But honey, if you have to sleep on a blanket on the sidewalk, I'll be on that blanket too."

I was enveloped with an incomparable feeling of safety and love.

The Effect of the Media on Impressionable Minds

I'm watching old videos of Axl Rose, whom I've always loved more than life itself. I think the fact that I don't hate minorities, women, gays, and lawyers is proof that children don't mindlessly absorb their pop heroes.

The funny thing is, I'm sure that if I had first met Axl now, instead of in 1991, I would hate him. I wonder what that says about me as an adult? Certainly I'd say that I'm more judgmental. But at the same time, I wonder if I wasn't smarter and more discriminating as a child. After all, what do I care what a musician believes? What right do I have to take it personally? As I child I had no trouble separating the artist from the bigot/person. I loved the music, the rebellion, and even the lifestyle that was lived so dangerously without fear. All the stuff I didn't like, like the misogyny, I simply ignored. I don't think I even felt conflicted, or saw the need to reconcile my love with all the things I had problems with.