The Last Bastion Of Absurdity

I've been dreaming odd things, like a virus that turns people into douchebags and somehow leads me to an underground cookie warehouse with a pudgy middle-aged topless androgynous but probably female head of security who has writing all over hir skin in sharpie and keeps secretly rearranging the toffees so the colours don't pattern as well. Also, before I finished reading Alan Moore's Voice of the Fire, I dreamed an extra chapter to it - one set in the future instead of the past - and took a while to remember that no, that wasn't actually part of the book. I no longer remember what happened in the dream-chapter, but I'm done with the real book now and I have got to say it was pretty awesome. I definitely reccommend it to anyone who enjoys a bit of grue in their some and appreciates cool stylistic devices, and/or is interested in British history. But trust me on the grue.

My boyfriend had a St Andrew's Day party, in which he and a couple of his friends cooked ALL OF THE SCOTTISH FOOD, if by Scottish you mean made of oats. I missed the bit with the potato cakes and the whole roast duck because of a meeting I had to go to at uni, but I got to partake of oatcakes, alcohol, oat-related alcohol, roast lamb and stew (as far as I know, not containing oats) and a sort of oat-and-nut dessert thing which turned out to be quite nice on top of oatcake. With tea.

Also I trolled a Bear Grylls fan and was briefly subject to the awkward realisation that I was wedged on a couch between a dude with a girl on his lap on one side, and two chicks making out on the other. I couldn't decide if I should feel intrusive or left out. Later, a fridge magnet flower fell into Tallulah's cleavage in such perfect arrangement that I assumed it was there on purpose, but it turned out she hadn't even noticed it was there. Or possibly earlier, my memory fails me. Alcohols!

Deadlines are starting to threaten to loom, but I have gotten done SOME things of use, so I feel sort of okay. I have applied for cross-institutional study, this time BEFORE the office closes for the new year, which is an improvement on last time, so I might actually get to do that this time.

I shall leave you with a hilarious anecdote from a friend of my mother's, a Russian woman. Her husband's job took him to New Zealand for several months on a contract. His final day there, he got really drunk, fell over, bashed his head open on something and woke up in hospital, still tipsy. He then decided he did not need to be in hospital, removed his IV drip, walked out and caught a taxi. In the taxi he ripped out the IV nozzle from his vein and started bleeding everywhere. Somehow, the Kiwis still let him on a plane - he showed up at his wife's doorstep in Sydney, drunk and covered in blood, right on schedule.

My mum's only comment was to sigh and shake her head and say "Russian men, you know. This is why your father doesn't drink."

I had this weird dream in which I was Batman and I had to get some people out of a big bear trap like pit thing under the noses of some random Evil People. And the last one required subterfuge in the form of making out. And then suddenly she was the Empress of a country or something that I'd taken over and tradition required me as the new Empress (I'm pretty sure I was no longer Batman by this point...) to have her literally turned into a statue, but that sounded painful, so I brought in my jewellery makers and got them to make a scale model of her in silver and rubies instead. The heart was half a ruby die as per Amanda Palmer. Then there was some faintly awkward nude modelling. I woke up just as I was trying to figure out how the golden hair would work - I was thinking it would stick into the head like on Barbie dolls, but that would require heating up the silver, which might then go out of shape. Yes, these are the things I worry about in dreams.

...in other news I have a dress rehearsal today and I do not know my lines well enough! And I do know it is poetry month but have not yet had time to post things! :(

Ugh why am I still sleepy? I slept in for so long this morning! Now I'm trying to sort out my centrelink thingies in time to go to the junction and do moar admin before rehearsal, but capped internet is screwing it up. And I still have to find a magnifying glass!

Sometimes I remember my dreams. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes, generally due to an untimely yet non-urgent wake-up call, I remember bits and pieces and cannot for the life of me figure out how they fit together, and become intensely curious as to What I'm Missing, but alas. gone forever.

For instance this morning I dreamed about bisexual porn and spaceship crashes. Actual porn mind, it wasn't just a sex dream, it actually paused to let me know that the actors lubed up off camera. I blame fandom for this. I also get the feeling that one of the pornstars helped me out of the wreckage of my spaceship, but that may be a waking-confusion mashup. There was definitely a conspiracy of some sort involved in the crash, though, so who knows. Maybe the porn was part of the plot.

Um hi morning. Afternoon. Afternoon. Shit.

Solution: more bandombigbang. Clearly.

I'm having these recurring dreams where I can walk through walls. Not all the time, though, I can't just stick a hand through something. I have to really spread out and lean against it with my whole body and not pay attention and just sort of relax through it. I think it was coded to my self-consciousness issues, because that was the feeling when I couldn't do it. Like people are looking at me, how can I just fall through a solid wall when they can see me?

I'm also disconnecting the internet for the weekend and trying to get an absolutely ridiculous amount of practice essays done, woohoo.

I had the oddest dream this morning, as tends to happen when somebody wakes me up and then lets me go back to sleep and then wakes me up again (thanks, dad).

It was a Year twelve school camp, and we were on this huge balcony by the harbour. I was running around trying to plant this tree in a ridiculously small square of fertilizer, and there was this chocolate mud cake that I had to keep reminding people wasn't for planting trees in, because it looked the same. At some point I went over to talk to Zoe - I don't remember what that conversation was about, probably trees. Then Poppy asked me what colour vanilla was (she was eating ice cream).

That kind of melded into a ( legal studies excursion...? )

themissinghat. So. Bizarre.

In other oddball news, today in assembly the orchestra unexpectedly struck out in a full brass-band version of the school song, complete with oom-pa-pa and a little *ting* from something shiny. I'm not sure why, but it was simply hilarious at the time. And then later they played some famous overture whose name I forgot, and the conductor looked like he was having a siezure, and we just cracked up laughing. For some reason that whole assembly was just full of teh funny.

It also reminded me of a strange dream I meant to recount. There was a whole crowd of us standing in the hall just inside the main entrance to the school, outside C4. The way was blocked by two lines of teachers, and in the middle of them stood Mr Thompson The Deputy. They suspected that Ms Varady The Principal was dead in her office, but nobody wanted to go in and check. Eventually Mr Thompson asked very seriously "Does anyone have a handkerchief?" and I gave him one. He took a run up and cricket-bowled it to Mr Cleaver, who was crouching near the reception area and kicked it onto a cupboard. Then everyone sort of stood around feeling stupid.

No, I have no idea either.

For Truth, Justuce, Freedom, Reasonably Priced Love, And A Hard Boiled Egg!

Today after ASC (the course-which-is-not-mind-and-morality, for all you school people) we went and listened to Karl Kruszelnicki give a talk on, apparently, life the universe and everything. I mean, he was talking about global warming, and then suddenly there were fridges involved, and then Amityville Horror. And the guy talks faster than I do! A funny moment occurred before he started - his microphone wouldn't work until he switched it off and then on again, and i couldn't help bursting out with "OMG! He's got a Windows microphone!"

In other news, a dream from a few days ago. People were doing sucky things to the environment and the planet was all covered with machinery and stuff, and then "I" was standing on a beach, at night. And the sky just plain shattered open like a pinata and a huge wall of light and water came bursting through it, carrying a whale about the size of Sydney. Later there were little people living in tunnels (NO NOT HOBBITS THANK YOU) and I've forgotten most of it. But the sky cracking open stayed with me for a while. The next morning i kept looking at it suspiciously. Gorram whales.

Gorrammit, the computer ate my entry. Well, anyway, here's a bunny with a pancake on its head list of bizarre events:

1. I was rudely awoken at 7am by a flock of parrots alighting noisily on a branch outside my window for no readily apparant reason. I thought they were supposed to be flying north for the winter? NORTH, DAMMIT.

2. Thanks to the aforementioned PARROTS OF DOOM waking me a little bit every time I started to drift off, I spent the next three hours in a semi-conscious haze, and had one of my characteristic weird-ass sciffy dreams. There was a bunch of people who had the "Sleepy Sickness" from Sandman, except they were also stuck in VR a la Tad Williams. Me and the Big Bad Wolf had to find a bunch of other people for an Epic Quest to save them, and for some reason I was an African man with weird green tubes in my hair. Anyway, we went to a grocery store,s where we got odd loks, so we pretended to be on our honeymoon. Then I got shipwrecked on an island inhabited by hillbillies who refused to feed me. A kid gave me a slice of bread for an American dollar, though. Then I found a net full of meat hanging from some trees and jumped up to try and reach some, but my arms were really heavy. There was a guy sitting on the net taunting me, but then he turned out to be the hilbillies grandfather and invited me to dinner. Halfway through the meal, I saw a steamboat coming towards the island, so I apologised profusely in Russian and ran down to the beach, where I met a man on a bicycle and his uber-jealous girlfriend, and then I woke up properly.

3. On the bus to Avi's house, I encountered a teenage goth punk... in the body of a sixtyfive-year-old man. He was wearing black tights, a black and white polka dotted skirt, a black leotard type thing with safety pins in it, a black leather jacket and glove (singular), sliver rings, a black fuzzy hat with a black feather in it, long dangly faux-pearl earrings, and he had black face-paint stripes on his face and hands (which looked very odd over the old-people veins). Also a pink umbrella. There was a stodgy businessman type across the asile whose head kept sort-of turning and then whipping back like a typewriter (I'MNOTLOOKINGNOTLOOKING) and the old guy was staring at him like "You wanna take me on, huh? Huh?" and I was trying hard not to giggle. Then I went up to the old punk and asked if he was going to a costume party, but he said "just be yourself man, you know?" and mumbld a bit, so I sadly smiled and nodded and went on my way. It would have been really awesome if he was perfectly sane. It'd be like cadhla and her Glinda dress. Though I suppose people accept that sort of thing more readily from young blonde chicks than bald old men.

4. At the park, Avi and I were repeatedly barked at by the reincarnation of Robespierre. It was a very small terrier that barked as though it was giving a rabble-rousing speech - it kept turning its head and doing the Look: "I'm talking to you! Are we going to stand for this injustice? Death to the Establishment!"

5. This morning I sold bread to a walrus. YA RLY. The guy had this wispy mustache that reached down to his chin. He could've strained his soup with it!

Also, the slicer bit me again. And hopefully this entry won't be eaten AGAIN. rar.

Link of the day: http://www.b3ta.com/questions/weirdteachers/

Oh, how I laughed. Seriously, man, zombie sheep and bunsen burner tubing belts aside, that webpage is the funniest thing EVER. Why do the Poms get all the fun?

I just remembered that I was going to write about Saturday, but never did.

Long (long, LONG) story short, a bunch of peopl (EVENTUALLY) arrived at Avi's. Whereupon we noticed a strange coincidence - almost ALL of us were wearing black tops and jeans. Hmnmm, says we, haha. Then we played some poker. Little did we know...

First, Liza tells us that she and her mum had the same dream about a car accident. Weird. Then, Alex tells us that Polina had a dream about Liza helping Laivi kill himself... and Liza replies that she and Laivi were actually just talking about the couple who'd done the same thing. (My dream was about finding a lunchbox full of five cent pieces at a library booksale - not nearly so dramatic, but Avi and I were trying to do tricks with a five cent coing while waiting [and waiting] for everyone to arrive...). Huh... odd.

Liza then tells a funny story about discovering cicadas and frogs outside her house, and comments that she feels like Pharoah, with all the plagues (cicadas=locusts?), especially since there was that big storm and that was Darkness, right?

Me: That's funny - you need Joseph to interpret your weird dreams!
Liza: Like Laivi!
Me: No, Laivi would be more like Jesus, what with his beard and everything.
Sasha (from the other side of the room, during a lul and not replying to us): Where's the booze, man?
Alex, Liza and I look at each other. OMG.
Alex: Hey, Sasha, come here!
Sasha: What?
Us: You have to interpret Liza's dream!
Me: Yeah, she had this dream... so there was this farmer and he had these seven cows, right...


In conclusion, after Alex got Jesus and Joseph mixed up a bit, we agreed that someting psychic was going on, and then promptly forgot about it.

It was my street, but it wasn't. Half of it faded into Default Suburbia, and the whole thing was in a valley. I was with someone who was Chloe and slightly Masha, and will hence be referred to as Chlosha. And everybody was dying.

It was like an Agatha Christie, the one with the little statues, and the island. People kept turning up gruesomely murdered, and there was no evidence. Just tangible panic. My house suddenyl had several apartments upstairs, and ours was ful of people - some of them lying in pools of blood. Downstairs, the living room was normal, and Neil Gaiman was sleeping in it.

We went to him for help, but Chlosha got paranoid and rigged up some kind of radio out of half a telephone and a stick. We sat half-way up the stairs and whispered. When I started rambling and telling Neil how we had made the radio, Chlosha pinched me until I stopped. We explained the situation, and he suggested we ask Adam and Eve, the middle aged couple in the apartment next to ours. So we went upstairs, and knocked on their door, and they were both hanging from the ceiling, their guts ripped out. We ran back downstairs, screaming, but Neil was being escorted out by guys in black suits and sunglasses, so we left the house.

Then I understood, and I had to get out of the valley. I ran up the street that wasn't afflicted by Generic Suburbia (it was like real life, only on a hill), but it was getting steeper and steeper and as I ran knife wounds opened in my belly, and I clutched them and kept running, staggering. I passed Chlosha, who was now a boy wit stumpy melting legs standing behind a wheelchair containing a pile of flesh which was also him. I urged him to run, he was almost out of the valley, but he just looked at me with sad eyes. So I went over the hill alone, and my wounds disappeared as spring ended.

I spoke to Madeliene, telling her I'd figured it all out, the plant was using us to breed. I walked behind a huge tree root and excitedly showed her the pollen mixed with the dirt, explaining how the plant used armadillos to sift through it, and what it did to us was how it cross-pollinated - but it was heavy pollen, that's why it stuck to the ground and why they needed the armadillo, and that was why it couldn't get out of the valley. Then she asked me if it had left scars, and I said no, I must have gotten out in time, and she lifted her shirt and showed me yellow flaps of skin hanging from her stomach like triple chins.