Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day
cleanskies

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jeremy take a little snooze

I dreamt I was a computer-generated doll, wandering round a much tidier house than mine, with other toys, the usual tales of derring-do and rescuing with easy morals and simple answers. I was the maverick type rather than the hero, some sort of Aviatrix doll, in tough no-nonsense flying leathers and one of those aviator's helmets, glued to my head, hiding my secret shame; I was a female doll with no hair. It felt very strange, moving my plastic exoskeleton of a body, especially with the wierd elasticity the CGI had gifted me. It felt like the ?particles ?molecules ?cells of my body were not attached but sliding over each other, to create a smooth, effortless motion which should have been impossible for a hunk of plastic, paint, and glue. I woke up feeling vaguely disappointed that given this marvellous set-up I had fetched up in the same old safe-as-houses disneyfied PG story. Ah well, at least I woke up before I was shown by the hero that I could beautiful, even without hair, and I didn't have to do any singing.

I seem to be dreaming in genre a bit at the moment. On the whole, last week's Manga extravaganza was better. We got to blow up the world from orbit in that.

This morning. Morning. morning ...

My miniature Zen garden looks like it was raked by a miniature monk with palsy, and I keep typing w instead of the letter I'm intending to type. This morning I cycled in singing on my bike (I often do), David Bowie's turn this morning:

Andy walking, Andy tired,
Andy take a little snooze,
Tie him up when he's fast asleep,
Send him on a pleasant cruise.
When he wakes up on his own,
He's sure to think of me and you;
He'll think about paint and he'll think about glue,
What a jolly boring thing to do.

Except that whenever I was stopped at the lights, I'd get as far as "takes a little snooze" and then start looping and my head would start nodding, falling asleep on your bike isn't wise. Damn. I also keep typing backspace for return.

David Bowie's wrong about paint and glue. They're interesting to think about. I phoned Mum to ask if she'd been blown away yesterday and she told me she'd found some new pencils which you can sketch with and then skim over with water, and it looks like a pencil with ink wash. Mind you, she lives just down the road from Derwent, the home of the British pencil. Maybe she'll send me some.

I'm tired because there were sirens, strange noises, and red flashing lights last night, though I think some of the noises and all of the lights were in my head. I sat there, scared, unable to sleep or turn a light on. Not scared of anything, just scared. I go to bed all responsible (work night) instead of staying up all night writing PP, and this is what I get. I'm crap. My head is crap.

Weird, I small like vitamin pills.

Spent last night collaging and watching Sci Fi. Instead of Millennium and The Prophecy II, it was Now and Again and Warlock. Either I was deeply confused, or TV Quick was. Now and Again suffered from galloping subplots so lame I occasionally had to use the mute button, but Warlock was a scream. Julian Sands and Richard E. Grant playing time-travelling Warlock and Witchunter on a wild McGuffin hunt through America. Think Terminator but from the other direction in time (the person making the film clearly did) with the end-of-the-world being based in magic instead of technology. Sands sneered and camped and cut off body parts with gay abandon, Grant rolled his eyes madly, exercised his impaling arm, and played Mr Exposition in a completely inexplicable accent. Toshtastic.

I'm so confused. They're taking away my office, which I thought had finally answered my question about whether or not I want this shit job. But now they're bribing me again. Properly fitted-up laptops I can carry out to the small ones, Freeserved and Dreamweavered to turn me into the fully nomadic web-whacker. And now a digital camcorder, and not just any camcorder, either, this one. I'm massively bewildered. WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME?

In other news, my boss broke a blood vessel in her eye diving (eeeeuw) and won't be back at work for a while. I've given up counting the number of things that are going wrong.
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