The Dream

I'm walking to a café. The windows at the front are shattered, and are made of safety glass like on a car's windscreen. I step inside to get some lunch. The counters and stools at the front are also heavily damaged, yet people are eating at tables further back. I see some handwritten signs taped up at the front of the store. They say the store was hit by a drunk driver, he died in the accident, and good riddance. I take a seat and order a lunch which I appear to have cooked myself earlier that day. My dessert is spicy pumpkin bars. I have the recipe in front of me and look it over. A black kitten pounces on me and walks around on my shoulders, occasionally shoving its head into the hair at the nape of my neck. It's very annoying.

I take a bite of the pumpkin bar. It's good, but not great. I don't think I'll bother making this recipe again, or if I do, I'll increase the spices considerably.

A girl and her mother sit next to me. The girl looks at my lunch. "Mommy," she says. "We eat better food than she does. Her food is all frothy and white, but ours is heavy and brown and wholegrain. Her food will kill her."

Indignant, I tell her I also eat wholegrain food. The kitten continues shoving its head into my hair, and getting its tiny needle-sharp claws caught there, too.

"Yes, but unless that's all you eat, you're gonna get sick and die."

Tired of this, I pull the kitten out of my hair and plunk it down on the floor. I leave the shattered restaurant and go for a walk. I see f00. He's busily taking pictures of a bridge.

I head into the woods on a sidewalk lined by lush green grass and by a ditch filled with cattails and reeds. Up ahead in the ditch, I see five strange men. Three of them look like rednecks. They have mullets and moustaches, and they're wearing tight black jeans and leather jackets. The other two are very geeky-looking guys. One's fat and has a combover. The other is tall and thin and has taped-up eyeglasses. All of them are hopping around in the ditch like frogs. I pause to watch them. One of the mullet guys is very good at whatever it is he's doing. He hops, catches something in his mouth, spits it back out again, and everyone cheers "Huzzah!"

I look more closely. He's catching large green bullfrogs in his mouth, then regurgitating it back into the watery ditch. He does this over and over again, much to the delight of the other men. Then I wake up.

Sucks

Just when I thought I was finally getting over my cold, I get bumped over the head with some new nasty virus. I feel like someone coldcocked in the back of the neck, and I spent the day sleeping. Yesterday was a misery, too. What's with this? Argh. And to top it off, I won't get to see KMFDM after all. It seems my possible rides are not going to the Moncton show tonight, but to Saint John on the morrow. And do you know what about Saint John? It won't do.

Bah, I say. Bah!

In other news, Team America: World Police is the best bad movie I've seen in ages. f00 and I scraped together money we don't have to watch it, and I'm not sorry. Sometimes you need a night out on the town, especially if you're broke and feel like shit on a stick.

Over the last little while, I've also been wending my way through George MacDonald Fraser's The Pyrates. Although I prefer his Flashman books, I'm still getting some royal giggles from this book. Fraser must have had a lot of fun writing it, and I definitely understand elanya's attraction to the book. This must be her favourite book, ever! Indeed, Pirates of the Caribbean seems to have drawn much from it, in spirit, at the very least.

Wherever Fraser is now, I hope he's writing more books.

Because so many people pretty much simultaneously wrote me about the 80s tapes, I'm going to break them up into lots and parcel 'em out that way....

And now for your regularly-scheduled link dump.

Smile, please: Would you be impressed by the Mona Lisa (thanks, curtana)?

Leave it to Bush: And to Gary Busey, too (thanks, wicked_wish).

Sleepwalking woman had sex with strangers: Truth, or gullibility? I don't know (thanks, Daze Reader).

Sim Bush & Sim Kerry: This is the first time I've been curious about the Sims game.

Thai festival features extreme body-piercing: Don't call yourself hardcore until you've put a bicycle through your face (thanks, Benoit).

Suffering for his art: "London-based artist Sebastian Horsley explains why he got crucified in the Philippines." You can find more information here (thanks, Ken).

The Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death: This looks like a very interesting book. I've added it to my wish list.

USB 2.0 Sushis: I don't get it.

Biohazard Erotica: NSFW, but exactly where you want to be to view steamy, torrid pictures of ALF, Animaniacs, and other sexy television stars in compromising positions.

Worldometers: Watch the numbers scroll by (thanks, Kutulu).

Mustafa Roshan: If you were to see this guy on the street, you'd probably never suspect he could dance like no one's business. There's no accounting for costuming taste, but take a look at what this guy can do. I aspire to being able to bring the music to life this way.

Addendum: I may have found a way to the KMFDM concert tonight, after all. Or not. I'm confused!

Missed 'er Salvation

'Twas a false hope. No KMFDM for me.

I'm the rivetless rivethead. I guess I'll go do some more tidying up.