I have been swerving in and out of illness and sleep, and now so-called wine - and a migraine. I really have not been able to post anything. But great ideas waft over me like an occasional breeze over a dying monster in a sun-peltered tar pit, and I say, "Oh! I... I remember that!..." And it is gone again. We are prisoners to the great mass of our microbiota, and all their skewed ways.
NPR is raised high to ward off crazy bald people, but it is banging into my left hemisphere like a repeated slow-mo video of the latest truck attack in Sweden, going clang clang clang. My only salvation seems to be Flock of Seagulls - through my computer headphones. Such a great album. Why can't this be the 80's?
Postal Service tried it and got us all depressed.
I will write about latest movies when Bert the Evil Lamprey is extracted from my soul. But here are some:
Pieces of April - (again. Probably my all-time favourite).
Edge of 17
Shakespeare in Love
After watching Shakespeare, I had a dream partly inspired by it, and also by me heartfelt wish to fly again. It was lucid. I remember singing along perfectly to Paul McCartney - and there were other people. This is because I was sleeping next to my radio which was blasting oldies. Then there was this girl. It was a young lady who was too young for me or something - she could have been any age, though. I had to instruct her on something - not personal - but maybe it was acting or sex. But it turned out she fell in love with me.
This was a wrongful situation, but some authority woman said the only thing she could do was to give us money and send us on our way. Cuz that's what love is for. So stupid old people will give you money, lol. No - even though it was a rip-off of Shakespeare, I woke up feeling recovered - but then I fell into illness again later. This is a horrible life.
It was nice to have sex with a female in my dreams again. Usually I just dream I am a houseplant being pissed on by a dog and I go, "oooh!"