My dreams define my days. Yesterday, I dreamed I was in Italy and woke up with an indefineable sense of peace. This morning, I had a dream so calculated in its cruelty that I refuse to believe it wasn't deliberate. I don't know what Morpheus is playing at, but I want him to know that it really isn't fair. Uuuuugh.
The barstools at Guernsey Post don't think they'll be able to deliver the post today because of the weather. Goodness knows what Gsy would do if we got proper snow. Right now, we've been frosted white by the most incompetant airbrusher ever - barely a scattering - and the whole island's gone to pieces. But what of my sister, and everyone else on the island, whose Cambridge letters are due today? Unfair much!
The good news is, you could ask them to email you. The very good news is: she's got an offer :D thus breaking the family curse. None of us have ever gone - I bet generations of Victorians, Tudors and Bretons are grinning with pride. Or possibly embarassment, that we couldn't find her a nice husband instead.
Work on my essay is almost complete. I've decided to go without stabilisers on this one and write 3,000 words of my opinion, using footnotes only when totally necessary. According to my marks, I have never done a great film essay anyway, so at worst this will be a disasterous experiment. I've put my current draft through Wordle, and the result is pretty funny:
Note: this is actually what my brain looks like right now. But howcome I've used the word "Lil" less than the word "Ze", when his name is Lil Ze and I've only ever used the phrase in one piece?
I'm listening to Patrick Wolf's concept album "The Bachelor", about young warrior in a sort of spiritual, metaphorical battle against homophobia, racism and the rest. You can see why this would appeal to me - it's just one Magnu-the-horse-with-the-golden-mane away from being Warriors at the Edge of Time. Bachelor explores all different aspects of what goes on in war, and has a lovely sense of character, and this morning (of all mornings) I find myself rather itchy for Part II (yes! Tell me it's not prog! There are even flowy cloaks!), "The Conqueror", its sequel. If only to find out what happens at the end.
Thought of the day: the name Spielberg, as in Steven Spielberg, is probably not a German portmanteau meaning "story-mountain." But perhaps it ought to be?
The barstools at Guernsey Post don't think they'll be able to deliver the post today because of the weather. Goodness knows what Gsy would do if we got proper snow. Right now, we've been frosted white by the most incompetant airbrusher ever - barely a scattering - and the whole island's gone to pieces. But what of my sister, and everyone else on the island, whose Cambridge letters are due today? Unfair much!
The good news is, you could ask them to email you. The very good news is: she's got an offer :D thus breaking the family curse. None of us have ever gone - I bet generations of Victorians, Tudors and Bretons are grinning with pride. Or possibly embarassment, that we couldn't find her a nice husband instead.
Work on my essay is almost complete. I've decided to go without stabilisers on this one and write 3,000 words of my opinion, using footnotes only when totally necessary. According to my marks, I have never done a great film essay anyway, so at worst this will be a disasterous experiment. I've put my current draft through Wordle, and the result is pretty funny:
Note: this is actually what my brain looks like right now. But howcome I've used the word "Lil" less than the word "Ze", when his name is Lil Ze and I've only ever used the phrase in one piece?
I'm listening to Patrick Wolf's concept album "The Bachelor", about young warrior in a sort of spiritual, metaphorical battle against homophobia, racism and the rest. You can see why this would appeal to me - it's just one Magnu-the-horse-with-the-golden-mane away from being Warriors at the Edge of Time. Bachelor explores all different aspects of what goes on in war, and has a lovely sense of character, and this morning (of all mornings) I find myself rather itchy for Part II (yes! Tell me it's not prog! There are even flowy cloaks!), "The Conqueror", its sequel. If only to find out what happens at the end.
Thought of the day: the name Spielberg, as in Steven Spielberg, is probably not a German portmanteau meaning "story-mountain." But perhaps it ought to be?
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