Anyone who has been on my flist for any length of time know that I do indeed like to flutter off for weeks on end and then come back, posting like it’s going out of fashion, and then flutter off again. Can’t help it. I get distracted…
Condensed update aka Things I have been doing since gone in no particular order
- Went through one of my ebay phases – thus far I’ve bought: three pairs of brand new jeans for next to nothing; Battlestar Galactica miniseries and season 1 (which has been highly rec’d and I bought for a collective £3.70); a book about football hooliganism; Mamet’s Olenna; 2 Methuen play anthologies of Cartwright and Fo and the Alias ps2 game. I’m stopping right now. I’ve been looking at the weirdest things and it’s just time to stop.
- Working on my latest opus. I feel in my bones that this is the one. It’s the damn one. The bloody black absurdist post modern nightmare semi-comedic fucked up thing is it. It has to be. I’ve been working on this for the last six months. I’ve been having recurring nightmares because of it. I’ve cancelled on friends to be with it. And lying in a lovers arms, she posed the notorious question “What you thinking?” After secret eye-rolling, I made her reply first in order to give me some time to think about what I was thinking about – “Your nails,” she replied. “The black plague” was my unchanged answer. I should have lied because I don’t think she was too impressed with the truth.
- Got into Doctor Who just in time for the finale. After being so badly wounded by it, I’m not sure that was the correct decision.
- Having weird dreams. Not just the one caused by the latest play but another. No remotely sexy dreams with Kristen though - confound it!
- The recurring nightmare involved a secret society hidden under the floor boards of a pub and then the place being flooded with a gaseous sludge. I’m trying to find this wanky OxBridge type society to save them but it’s impossible. A police person in a gas mask runs in, handing me a gas mask and together we look. But the sludge is so thick and it hardens by the minute. The other person is dying, now stuck in the sludge. She takes off their mask to reveal someone close I’ve never quite got over losing the way I did. I struggle through the sludge to save her but it’s too late. Taking me by surprise, she kisses me lightly and leans to whisper her last words. But I never hear them as she either dies or I wake up. I had this dream about 10 times in a fortnight - I always survive, she always dies and I never hear what she was going to say. One of those dreams that really sink into you. Horrible. Distressing. Glad they’ve stopped now.
- The other dream involved me jetting off to
on the spur of the moment. While waiting for a flight home, the desk clerk takes me to see the Portuguese Man O War jellyfish (Because, yes, they obviously have them in easy reach of airports). I climb over the wall to see them clearly, standing on some rocks that jut out over the water. The jellyfish are quite beautiful, until three of them ‘jump’ and sting my legs. Already paralysis is setting in. The desk clerk takes me to a hotel room and tells me that’s it. There’s nothing he can do. I’m dying. So, panicked, I get on my crappy phone and try to call everyone I can as the creeping paralysis travels up my body. I only get through to my sister and an old uni friend I’ve not spoken to in a while and blurt out the whole story, adding a ‘love you, bye’ then giving them barely any time before I tell them I have to call someone else. The paralysis is total and I feel myself dying. End of dream. Portugal
- When telling this to friends, they’ve laughed. And I’ve been hurt. The dream was pretty fucked and really frightening because (with the exception of jumping jellyfish) everything was so real. There was no stupid dream stuff or unexplainable crap. Every detail was very life like and the paralysis was terrible. Urgh. Dreams.
- Became a basketcase for an hour when reading some Sarah Kane plays, thinking that I’d lost my powers of theatrical comprehension, freaking out and then tossing the book across the room. What a drama queen (shudder – A moniker I’ve never been comfortable with)
- Filled the non-watching professional football hole with that of playing. Such a novelty idea, huh? I don’t think it’ll catch on.
- Learned stuff. Probably.
- Pondered the notion of what modern treason is since the Queen was visiting the town 10 miles away from me and the place was crawling with police for a week. I always find the thought that we’re theoretically ruled by an OAP with a perm really funny. I’ve always been quite anti-royalty – I cannot justify the logic of supporting a monarch to the tune of 60 million or so a year – Although Helen Mirren softened me for a good while. There were bikini pictures of Mirren in the tabloid the other day – they were quite worthy of a zee014 glossy picspam. I can’t help myself – I know perpetuating this crush is damaging what little reputation I have but it’s impossible. I’ll show you three hot Helen pictures and I’d defy anyone remotely attracted to females not to give a little smile and a whimper. Oh. God. Stop. How can I go from intellectually thinking about the royalty tax in our fragile class society to outing my long running crush over a 60 year old? Oh. Jesus. Christ.
- Dyed my hair dark red. I’m quite loving it.
- And more stuff I can’t remember or don’t want to remember…
And the last thing I have been doing? Missing you all, of course.
Since my paid account has lapsed (probably will update tomorrow), I now get ads, which I normally don't really notice but this one to the very right of the post entry space caught my eye.
Living Inside "You" Making You Fat! Don't Believe It? See It For Real.
WTF, I say! WTF? Charment.
And now I go dallying around the flist (Thank God for the personal journal filter), so if you get a comment from an entry from weeks ago, I couldn’t help myself.
So, how are you?
So, how are you?