shewho: (bitter gothic tear)
i would like my subconscious to get an imagination, please. i am currently being foxed by dull dreams that mostly reflect reality, but sometimes take a weird turn (such as emerson morphing into cabbie and selling me shopping that was in fact that silicon gel stuff that comes in shoes).

i do not like this. i am no longer sure what i dreamed, and what is reality. to a certain extent.

i was dreaming about actual food shopping the other day (BORING BRAIN BORING BRAIN) and thus when i went to actual tesco in real life yesterday, was unsure whether or not i had actually bought a huge bag of potatoes. i didn't know. was it dream? was it real? i bought some more just in case.

what i'm saying, is, if you pop in and see d over the weekend while i'm away larging it up at atp, ask him for a bowl of mash or some chips. we've an AWFUL LOT of potatoes to get through.
shewho: (bitter gothic tear)
i would like my subconscious to get an imagination, please. i am currently being foxed by dull dreams that mostly reflect reality, but sometimes take a weird turn (such as emerson morphing into cabbie and selling me shopping that was in fact that silicon gel stuff that comes in shoes).

i do not like this. i am no longer sure what i dreamed, and what is reality. to a certain extent.

i was dreaming about actual food shopping the other day (BORING BRAIN BORING BRAIN) and thus when i went to actual tesco in real life yesterday, was unsure whether or not i had actually bought a huge bag of potatoes. i didn't know. was it dream? was it real? i bought some more just in case.

what i'm saying, is, if you pop in and see d over the weekend while i'm away larging it up at atp, ask him for a bowl of mash or some chips. we've an AWFUL LOT of potatoes to get through.
shewho: (football)
J: it would appear that i am starting my working 2008 the same way i ended my working 2007.

F: I have removed my racist bingo from being top of my Scrabulous stats, phew!!!

M: monday, monday here again in tidy attire, with a gammy throat, late for work, and after a night of horribly disturbed sleep, bad dreams and mousey noises.

A: at a loose end? nothing to do?

M: WAHEY!!!!!

J: friday
♥ friends // family

J: brief, and to the point (makes a change!) because i am not feeling overly garrulous today. (makes a change!)

A: there are two good things about forgetting sarah marshall.

S: on friday, i posted this to angelv as a prediction of how my next week would turn out.

O: i'm off to play poker at the artillery arms this evening, 6.30ish kick off.

N: right. am i being an idiot? i generally work in print layout. i am in print layout now.

D: if you call yourself rapier chris i will assume:

***

thrilling.

also thrilling - last nights dream where i was attempting to become rafael benitez's PA. in crystal palace park. i kind of managed it, my first task was copying birthdays from his old diary to his new one. then i got left behind as he sped off, because an enormous cat was sitting on me. tried to catch him up in the posh dressing rooms, which were like some sort of escher picture, though without stairs, so it was very hard trying to get up them with a suitcase.

thanks, brain.
shewho: (football)
J: it would appear that i am starting my working 2008 the same way i ended my working 2007.

F: I have removed my racist bingo from being top of my Scrabulous stats, phew!!!

M: monday, monday here again in tidy attire, with a gammy throat, late for work, and after a night of horribly disturbed sleep, bad dreams and mousey noises.

A: at a loose end? nothing to do?

M: WAHEY!!!!!

J: friday
♥ friends // family

J: brief, and to the point (makes a change!) because i am not feeling overly garrulous today. (makes a change!)

A: there are two good things about forgetting sarah marshall.

S: on friday, i posted this to angelv as a prediction of how my next week would turn out.

O: i'm off to play poker at the artillery arms this evening, 6.30ish kick off.

N: right. am i being an idiot? i generally work in print layout. i am in print layout now.

D: if you call yourself rapier chris i will assume:

***

thrilling.

also thrilling - last nights dream where i was attempting to become rafael benitez's PA. in crystal palace park. i kind of managed it, my first task was copying birthdays from his old diary to his new one. then i got left behind as he sped off, because an enormous cat was sitting on me. tried to catch him up in the posh dressing rooms, which were like some sort of escher picture, though without stairs, so it was very hard trying to get up them with a suitcase.

thanks, brain.
shewho: (bad idea bears)
i didn't watch dead set last night, and therefore didn't dream about zombies.

however, i did dream that i was trying to get into a shower at some music festival (which became tiny like my parents' top cupboards in my old house) and while doing so overheard peter buckley hill* rehearsing a duet of cocorosie's rainbow warriors**. i can't remember who the other person was, but it may have been dave-nice-mum or euros childs or someone. that sort of hair***, anyway.

most disturbing.



* him
** them
*** er, brown?
shewho: (bad idea bears)
i didn't watch dead set last night, and therefore didn't dream about zombies.

however, i did dream that i was trying to get into a shower at some music festival (which became tiny like my parents' top cupboards in my old house) and while doing so overheard peter buckley hill* rehearsing a duet of cocorosie's rainbow warriors**. i can't remember who the other person was, but it may have been dave-nice-mum or euros childs or someone. that sort of hair***, anyway.

most disturbing.



* him
** them
*** er, brown?
shewho: (bitter gothic tear)
Bad: forgetting to have any brekkie.

Good: free ‘girlie bags’ at Liverpool Street Station – including fruity cereal bar!

[Although quite why the bags are just for girls, I don’t know. Without wanting to come across all [livejournal.com profile] publicansdecoy on you (sorry PD! I love you really!) what is about having a Y chromosome that means you won’t want to eat cereal bars? Or drink fruit juice? Admittedly you probably wouldn’t want to wear Ghost eau de toilette, or tan whilst moisturising, but then neither do I.]


Actually, I’ve never seen anyone handing out ‘man bags’. (Heh, manbags!) Have you? What would / does go in a man bag? I had brekkie anyway, I shouldn’t complain.

Weird: I was dreaming about Fall Out Boy last night. In particular, being abroad somewhere and trying to go into a café for some coffee, only to find it rammed with FOB fans as they were doing some sort of secret gig. And I had to step over Pete Wentz to get to the horribly nasty toilets. Then they all cleared off and I could sit down.

I don’t know what this is telling me, apart from maybe I’ve been reading a bit too much [livejournal.com profile] icedmaple of late ;)

***

Anyway, who’s going to tell me about the Manics at the Shepherds Bush Empire then? Surprises? Treats? &c? Anyone?
shewho: (bitter gothic tear)
Bad: forgetting to have any brekkie.

Good: free ‘girlie bags’ at Liverpool Street Station – including fruity cereal bar!

[Although quite why the bags are just for girls, I don’t know. Without wanting to come across all [livejournal.com profile] publicansdecoy on you (sorry PD! I love you really!) what is about having a Y chromosome that means you won’t want to eat cereal bars? Or drink fruit juice? Admittedly you probably wouldn’t want to wear Ghost eau de toilette, or tan whilst moisturising, but then neither do I.]


Actually, I’ve never seen anyone handing out ‘man bags’. (Heh, manbags!) Have you? What would / does go in a man bag? I had brekkie anyway, I shouldn’t complain.

Weird: I was dreaming about Fall Out Boy last night. In particular, being abroad somewhere and trying to go into a café for some coffee, only to find it rammed with FOB fans as they were doing some sort of secret gig. And I had to step over Pete Wentz to get to the horribly nasty toilets. Then they all cleared off and I could sit down.

I don’t know what this is telling me, apart from maybe I’ve been reading a bit too much [livejournal.com profile] icedmaple of late ;)

***

Anyway, who’s going to tell me about the Manics at the Shepherds Bush Empire then? Surprises? Treats? &c? Anyone?
shewho: (cheese!)
Dream News
The dreaming subconscious is brilliant, isn’t it? Last night, my brain realised I was sprawled across the bed in an unusual spread-eagled fashion, and that I’d wake up all stiff and sore. Instead of calmly moving / waking me, it sent me a dream in which I was an Asian male* and going parachuting. However, my ‘chute failed to open, and I sped towards the earth** and smashed into it, landing in a (you’ve guessed it) bizarrely spread-eagled fashion - exactly the same as I was actually lying in. People tried to move my legs, but they were stuck and painful. And thus I woke up, and curled into my typical foetal sleeping pose, before nodding off again.

Woke up again as D came home***, only to drift off into a dream about watching Drugstore live, with Thom Yorke playing guitar and not singing (??) to El Presidente. Dream only notable for Isabelle Drugstore looking not like herself but my friend TM’s mother, and a lot of crowd walk-outs, causing a Thom Yorke rant, and a sensible audience heckle.

~~~

Diary News
Last night, an early repast of strange tapas creatures (the cheese based things are best. Cheese, posh ham and quince jelly ftw!) and a chat with [livejournal.com profile] green_badger****. Home in time for ER, how reasonable! Anyway ER, bleak bleak bleak. Although if you overload ALL the main characters with the bleak***** like that it detracts from every single storyline you peons. Cuh.

PW2 News
On the way home I discovered that the prime time to play Phoenix Wright is whilst on a train or a Victoria Line tube to Walthamstow, after at least half a bottle of wine. I’m not sure if it’s because of these journeys being particularly conducive to gameplay, whether I’ve just coincidentally just got to a bunch of dialogue each time and am not really *doing* anything, whether wine increases my clever reasoning, or, most likely, whether being a teeny bit inebriated makes me as stupid as stupid Phoenix Wright. Edgeworth is still hot, despite my theory that makes him the super bad guy. Almost finished too.

~~~

Gig News
Feist is playing tonight. I wish I’d known about this earlier. Still, Herman Dune tomorrow!

~~~

Internet Sheep News
I’ve had a myspace for years (easily findable and obvious by the Dorothy Gale themed photo) and not really done anything with it apart from add random comedians from time to time. Is there really any point in me getting a facebook? What does it do?

Here is a quiz all about me, me, me. Have a go! See what you know!








* Extraneous detail I suppose, but it meant I looked like a grown up version of Neil something-or-other who was in my class at junior school. Not so extraneous now?
** More extraneous detail. A sandy beach. It looked Cornish…
*** Rather late and very drunk!
**** Dammnit B, you were obviously right. April Whitby started in 1997, Bowlie / ATP started in 1999, I think my first was 2000. Ah well, still *my* heart lies with post-rock first!
***** And one for luck – BLEAK!
shewho: (cheese!)
Dream News
The dreaming subconscious is brilliant, isn’t it? Last night, my brain realised I was sprawled across the bed in an unusual spread-eagled fashion, and that I’d wake up all stiff and sore. Instead of calmly moving / waking me, it sent me a dream in which I was an Asian male* and going parachuting. However, my ‘chute failed to open, and I sped towards the earth** and smashed into it, landing in a (you’ve guessed it) bizarrely spread-eagled fashion - exactly the same as I was actually lying in. People tried to move my legs, but they were stuck and painful. And thus I woke up, and curled into my typical foetal sleeping pose, before nodding off again.

Woke up again as D came home***, only to drift off into a dream about watching Drugstore live, with Thom Yorke playing guitar and not singing (??) to El Presidente. Dream only notable for Isabelle Drugstore looking not like herself but my friend TM’s mother, and a lot of crowd walk-outs, causing a Thom Yorke rant, and a sensible audience heckle.

~~~

Diary News
Last night, an early repast of strange tapas creatures (the cheese based things are best. Cheese, posh ham and quince jelly ftw!) and a chat with [livejournal.com profile] green_badger****. Home in time for ER, how reasonable! Anyway ER, bleak bleak bleak. Although if you overload ALL the main characters with the bleak***** like that it detracts from every single storyline you peons. Cuh.

PW2 News
On the way home I discovered that the prime time to play Phoenix Wright is whilst on a train or a Victoria Line tube to Walthamstow, after at least half a bottle of wine. I’m not sure if it’s because of these journeys being particularly conducive to gameplay, whether I’ve just coincidentally just got to a bunch of dialogue each time and am not really *doing* anything, whether wine increases my clever reasoning, or, most likely, whether being a teeny bit inebriated makes me as stupid as stupid Phoenix Wright. Edgeworth is still hot, despite my theory that makes him the super bad guy. Almost finished too.

~~~

Gig News
Feist is playing tonight. I wish I’d known about this earlier. Still, Herman Dune tomorrow!

~~~

Internet Sheep News
I’ve had a myspace for years (easily findable and obvious by the Dorothy Gale themed photo) and not really done anything with it apart from add random comedians from time to time. Is there really any point in me getting a facebook? What does it do?

Here is a quiz all about me, me, me. Have a go! See what you know!








* Extraneous detail I suppose, but it meant I looked like a grown up version of Neil something-or-other who was in my class at junior school. Not so extraneous now?
** More extraneous detail. A sandy beach. It looked Cornish…
*** Rather late and very drunk!
**** Dammnit B, you were obviously right. April Whitby started in 1997, Bowlie / ATP started in 1999, I think my first was 2000. Ah well, still *my* heart lies with post-rock first!
***** And one for luck – BLEAK!
shewho: (big bug)
♥ Tuesday night I had an incredibly vivid dream where I was sewing up the incision left after a caesarean section. The other person sewing kept doing it wrong, the woman was awake, the incision went up to her breast bone and you could see all the layers of fascia and fat etc.

♥ last night at a recording of Never Mind the Buzzcocks I saw Paul Young's bottom.

♥ tonight I am going to eat scampi, and love it.
shewho: (big bug)
♥ Tuesday night I had an incredibly vivid dream where I was sewing up the incision left after a caesarean section. The other person sewing kept doing it wrong, the woman was awake, the incision went up to her breast bone and you could see all the layers of fascia and fat etc.

♥ last night at a recording of Never Mind the Buzzcocks I saw Paul Young's bottom.

♥ tonight I am going to eat scampi, and love it.
shewho: (big bug)
Sleep.

Sweet, sweet, beautiful sleep.

It really is my favourite thing. Ever. And yes, I do mean more so than *that*. And certainly more so than even tasty food. Or gin. I ♥ sleep. Refreshing, intoxicating, prettifying, block-out-the-world sleep.

Despite spending most of yesterday asleep, I couldn't get out of bed this morning. Sleep is my drug of choice, and I am very good at taking it. No matter what external / internal circumstances are, I can sleep. And even better than sleep alone, you can DREAM. And in dreaming, thereby have ALL THE REST of your favourite things at the same time. I can *dream* about eating lovely squid. I can dream that Paul McCartney is my step-dad. I can dream about certain comedians frolicking in some grass a la The Beatles in 'Help'. The only problem with dreams, is I don't (as far as I am aware) get the sensations of real life. I know some people do. I can't *taste* the squid or *smell* the grass or *feel* the comforting Macca hug.

(NB - this is not entirely a bad thing. I have a recurring dream whereby I fall off the kerb and break my ankle, and am desperately trying to climb up to the pavement as traffic bears down on me. This always happens in Temple Road. I would not wish to feel this dream.)

Dreams. Real life, without the 'taste' sensation? Better than life, but numb?

Pah. I still ♥ sleep.


Which is all a long winded way of leading me to saying guess where I want to be know? Wrapped up in a certain someone's arms* snuggled in a big hug under a duvet and drifting off to sleep. This is my idea of heaven. Please make it so.


*Yes, yes, you do know who.
shewho: (big bug)
Sleep.

Sweet, sweet, beautiful sleep.

It really is my favourite thing. Ever. And yes, I do mean more so than *that*. And certainly more so than even tasty food. Or gin. I ♥ sleep. Refreshing, intoxicating, prettifying, block-out-the-world sleep.

Despite spending most of yesterday asleep, I couldn't get out of bed this morning. Sleep is my drug of choice, and I am very good at taking it. No matter what external / internal circumstances are, I can sleep. And even better than sleep alone, you can DREAM. And in dreaming, thereby have ALL THE REST of your favourite things at the same time. I can *dream* about eating lovely squid. I can dream that Paul McCartney is my step-dad. I can dream about certain comedians frolicking in some grass a la The Beatles in 'Help'. The only problem with dreams, is I don't (as far as I am aware) get the sensations of real life. I know some people do. I can't *taste* the squid or *smell* the grass or *feel* the comforting Macca hug.

(NB - this is not entirely a bad thing. I have a recurring dream whereby I fall off the kerb and break my ankle, and am desperately trying to climb up to the pavement as traffic bears down on me. This always happens in Temple Road. I would not wish to feel this dream.)

Dreams. Real life, without the 'taste' sensation? Better than life, but numb?

Pah. I still ♥ sleep.


Which is all a long winded way of leading me to saying guess where I want to be know? Wrapped up in a certain someone's arms* snuggled in a big hug under a duvet and drifting off to sleep. This is my idea of heaven. Please make it so.


*Yes, yes, you do know who.
shewho: (cheese!)
I have just got up.

I am not at work. (I would have made an effort if there had been any water when I got in last night, mind.)

I am a bad shewho.

Good God I love bed!

(I don't love having no food in the house though. boo!)


Anyway, last night I did pop along to Camden to see niCe mUm (stupid capitals one day I'll get it right....)

This was possibly a silly idea, as I couldn't seem to hold glasses without shaking and filled myself up with sugar. This, of course, had NOTHING to do with boys in their pants at all (although boys in tights and binbags with brooms and henry hoover had me shaking somewhat with laughter.....).

More people should write songs about yahtzee playing nazis. This will always make me laugh. (Sod boggle, who is up for a yahtzee championship?!! COME ON!!!) As will the very though of Chris Dale saying "we are the pop group Sack Trick", but I digress.

Apparently whenever there is a little bit of humour about 'the blacks' I get a stern school teacherly reproving look on my face. Oops. Although yeah, I do sometimes feel uncomfortable.

Next time Kate Moss should apologise for her horrible little brother bullying me on an almost daily basis at school. It is his fault I am paranoid enough to have this fringe.

Shandy made me feel well again (hurrah for shandy!), but I realised I was starting on the story about sticking fingers up old men's bottoms story AGAIN (hands up who hasn't heard *that* one then? no-one? zactly.....) and realised it was time for home.

Stalking points = none.

And [livejournal.com profile] diamond_geyser! I have jsut remembered! I clearly will NOT be there next time for the cunning plans. Boo. Hiss. I may be back from Whitby that very day, but physical state may not be willing. We Shall See.

(Also, I didn't eat any cheese so didn't have any silly dreams, thank you very much ;P )

Today I have been mostly watching Charmed and eating cous cous.

Bliss.
shewho: (cheese!)
I have just got up.

I am not at work. (I would have made an effort if there had been any water when I got in last night, mind.)

I am a bad shewho.

Good God I love bed!

(I don't love having no food in the house though. boo!)


Anyway, last night I did pop along to Camden to see niCe mUm (stupid capitals one day I'll get it right....)

This was possibly a silly idea, as I couldn't seem to hold glasses without shaking and filled myself up with sugar. This, of course, had NOTHING to do with boys in their pants at all (although boys in tights and binbags with brooms and henry hoover had me shaking somewhat with laughter.....).

More people should write songs about yahtzee playing nazis. This will always make me laugh. (Sod boggle, who is up for a yahtzee championship?!! COME ON!!!) As will the very though of Chris Dale saying "we are the pop group Sack Trick", but I digress.

Apparently whenever there is a little bit of humour about 'the blacks' I get a stern school teacherly reproving look on my face. Oops. Although yeah, I do sometimes feel uncomfortable.

Next time Kate Moss should apologise for her horrible little brother bullying me on an almost daily basis at school. It is his fault I am paranoid enough to have this fringe.

Shandy made me feel well again (hurrah for shandy!), but I realised I was starting on the story about sticking fingers up old men's bottoms story AGAIN (hands up who hasn't heard *that* one then? no-one? zactly.....) and realised it was time for home.

Stalking points = none.

And [livejournal.com profile] diamond_geyser! I have jsut remembered! I clearly will NOT be there next time for the cunning plans. Boo. Hiss. I may be back from Whitby that very day, but physical state may not be willing. We Shall See.

(Also, I didn't eat any cheese so didn't have any silly dreams, thank you very much ;P )

Today I have been mostly watching Charmed and eating cous cous.

Bliss.

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