MAKIN THE LAW MAKIN THE LAW

1: P is chipper and recovering; tho she certainly talked too much yesterday
2: while watching grease, her friend was moved to say: "They don't make films like this any more. It's like the Sistine Chapel, no one knows how to do that kind of thing now." Weirdly, I had never see Grease before. It is fun -- lots of interesting things to say about it, including the car race, prefigured in Rebel w/o a Cause and recapped in Repo man -- but I had not hithetofore thought to compare it to Michaelangelo.
3: MY HEATING IS NOT WORKING AGAIN. This was no real prob till today's chilly rain. It's the same thing as before, I think -- the little fan gets silted up with dust when it's not going on daily, and I switched it off while in France :(
4: i dremt i dremt that I developed a lead-lined bodysuit to protect me from Matthew Perpetua. On waking, this seems both unnecessary and somewhat unjust!

... a lot actually, i was restless and woke a lot, and dremt every time

however only one stuck:
I was at a recording of QI, in a large gloomy panelled room. Proceedings were about to start, when ENLARGED POLYMATH Mr.Fry rushed abruptly from the room. There was a pause, then a muffled, giggly announcement over the tannoy.

"Stephen Fry wishes it known that he spent all last night in a CASTLE, shagging Celia Imrie. He cannot continue with the programme, as he doesn't know what to say to his wife and kids."

After a lot of mumbling and a small amount of laughter, we left the studio, and I went to the pubbe. Sadly there within I encountered Fry and his cronies, all in a panic about the whole situation. I couldn't be dealing with this fiff faff, so I went to another pubbe.

This one -- as gloomy as every building I was in during the dream -- was awash with TEENAGE FOPS. Luckily, behind a large group of them I spotted piratemoggy and even better just as excellent, the GAY ONE FROM GLEE!

We selected a small table to sit in the corner, just right -- even better was that to get to it, we had to ask every FOP in the room to move down a space...

... about zizek. he was a kn0b. plus we all had beards...

t!lly's vocab is still largely single word but she has good comedy timing, viz -- when stood right in front of you -- "parky?" "parky!" "PARKY!" yes? "hullo!"

anyway if she is drinking and you are and you say "cheers" she will click her mug on yours and say "chish" which will SERVE HER WELL

ps i dremt i dremt that a. i had gone back to college and was moving out of my 1st-year room into my 2nd, except i hadn't worked out where this was -- meanwhile b. the lex and his twin brother had moved into the room next door and c. i was planning to do a course on the LANGUAGE OF THE EWOKS

--i dremt i dremt that the above commodity -- or anyway phrase -- will ensure life love happiness and the success of us all in 2010, so LET'S GET COOKING
--then my creaky bathroom door woke me up and convinced me a prowler had got in and was lurking in the hall (as i have often larfed non-stop at jumpy guests when the many noises of my noisy house spook them this was total payback time)
--this morning at get-up time i helped myself to 30 mins extra snooze and was rewarded with an ANXIETY DREAM ABOUT TEACHING: viz everyone was sat in a busy corridor which got dakrer and darker and the pupls were dwindling and vanishing and my pauses and confusion and disgressions were getting longer and more awful, and the people who have so far hired me were taking crosss notes at the back, so cross i could hear their pens scratching

GLITTER KETCHUP!

1: is knowing the feeling of old
2: is enjoying the fact it's back
3: is so not caring if the planet collides or sweeps past tipping everything over or pops like a bubble
4: in a sense there is nothing that is not a dangling modifier

i dremt i was walking around just in a towel gazing at open air ceramics under a viaduct, and someone i'd never met came up and whispered, with a grin, that he was suing the wire over a review of his work, a review i hadn't read, by someone whose name i didn't catch -- nervertheless i was pleased

... that for a new govt roll-out the press office had asked john selwyn gummer to SING. And this he did, with a nice choral tenor, not too fussy but well done: he sang a parody of tom waits's rain dogs, called SLIME DOGS. And afterwards the press officer was all bubbly, saying "John's terribly shy and he doesn't really like singing in public at all, we're so pleased he agreed!"

I don't seem to have clocked what the govt roll-out WAS...

clearly inspired by a story piratemoggy told me of her wicked wild youth, i dremt of how the elizabethans discovered that phosphorus will burn you = by dropping it down inside their clothes, basically

i: they had discovered phosphorus and were pleased with themselves
ii: they put the phosphorus they had discovered in a big bowl
iii: a sugercube-sized chunk of it popped up like popcorn and landed on the bare chest of a fellow whose elizabethan garb was surprisingly lowcut...
iv:... and slid down inside
v: he started bellowing so everyone else put phosphorus down THEIR neckline
vi: the final scene was a parade of the various burns displayed by lots of very glum-looking elizabethans

hurrah for double chem

so the FT/Popular massive put on a themed competition to celebrate/explore the full important of its analysis of pop and the world and stuff, and EVERYONE CAME. Everyone meaning all nations, sub-nations, splinter nations, radical oppositions and WHATEVS.

To game the project their way: to turn the map -- as FT/P outlaid it -- into the realisation of the ultimate territory it implied.* Which in my own case -- as a WHATEVS obvs -- means the realisation of the full-on McLaren-Carmodian message-begins-when-the-artwork-ends manufactured chart-prog reality-gaming politico-aesthetico situation-overturning alien tongue-pressure TOTALITY MOVE.

What did this look like, you ask in amazement! It looked like -- paging rechabite! -- an Escalator Over a Hill! A handsome modernist escalator in gleaming black and silver, going over the STIPERSTONES!

Naturally, I started up the escalator, because I wanted to check out what Vietnam were up to. As I ascended, someone from the massive (I think Mr TimTim thebopkids HopkinGreenFrog) yelled up that I should look out, as this was a very important day in Vietnam. And I looked up, and serried ranks of vietninjas, in black silk pyjamas, were riding DOWN the very stairs I was riding UP. Yoijnck, as M.C.Escher** would say!

*Note to those playing the "And did you see Marx-as-a-young-Hegelian clear?" drinking game: consumer powerful snifter here!
**Dr V!ck's second cousin! Trufax! Might be a bit more removed than once but basically trufax!

these four dreams, one after another, on a wakeful and head-achey and somewhat asthmathic night

i: My chum A has written up an LJ study of my flaws and failings, and their various disappointments in me... it was not inaccurate or even malicious; but nor was it friends-locked! All details clearly supplied by my own subconscious, which evidently hacked A's account -- it's really not their MO, IRL or in etherworld...
ii: I have paid £647 to fly to america to see a big show by B. I am am staying with a friend who is out of town and will meet me at the show. He has directed me to a barbecue, where his friends are convening before walking to the venue. I don't know anyone and feel a bit shy and left out. When the time came to make a move, we set off over a large campus plagued with ghostly blue fire alarms. I got separated from the group, lost all sense of direction, and ran about disconsolately, trying to convince myself I didn't even like B's music much.
iii: I am being driven to the airport by my old school-teacher, C (IRL almost certainly now dead), in his tiny little car. On the way he undertakes many other baffling little chores for others; I have made him the guardian of the urgency, so as not to be a controlling nag -- but it is increasingly evident I am going to miss the plane, because he has forgotten that it flies at 12.25, and it is now 12.23 and we are stopping off at some woodwork studio...
iv: I have arrived for an interview, scruffily dressed and ill-prepared, at org D (where I used to work). I am given a few minutes to gather myself and prepare, in the aisle of a lecture-theatre during a lecture, with all the students staring at me. Then I am conducted to the interview room. Except the person taking me can't remember what floor it's on, and seems to think this a hilarious joke...

In between (ii) and (iii) I had a brief half-wakeful fugue about how horribly stressful it will be if I have kids and then separate from their other parent. Well yes, it probably will, but CAN WE CROSS THESE VARIOUS BRIDGES AS AND WHEN WE COME TO THEM, plz, ffs, unconscious anxiety centres??

To be honest none of these rise above lame pro forma material,; and none were more than mildly annoying in the dream -- my response each time was "oh well then, on with the show" I'm more annoyed now I'm awake by the DO YOU SEE persistence of my silted up panic-centres to get me bothered. IT'S PRESSWEEK, YES I AM SOMEWHAT AWARE OF PENDING DEADLINES, it's my JOB!