Just found one of my innumerable biro-scribled pieces of paper when gathering washing. As well as panel breakdowns for a comic thing, it included the longest dream transcript I've ever written fresh. And it's turned me into a liar. I told Jim that it's funny that when you tell someone about the details of one of your dreams, you're stuck with it forever. Well, this one's written down here, I told it to Jane, and I've forgotten it completely. A shame, since its central motif was one of the high concepts that make wasting 5-8 hours everyday doing nothing but lying still and hallucinating worthwhile.
(Riff off the Royal Tennebaums, but with psychic and/or magic resonance. Most memorable - and horrific - bit was the little girl who has temporal empathy with herself, experiencing what she does at every future time in her life. Most notably her own future sex-life. Seen through the mind of a pre-sexual child, she effectively sexually abuses herself.)
It now lives in my drawer of biro-notes, waiting for me to die and then be discovered, so fulfilling its purpose of making realise I was considerably more odd than anyone suspected.
Bar that, I'm burning the remaining holiday time from 2002 in a number of ways. Interesting things related, however...
Hammered out my last review for CTCL this month, a look at Meanwhile Back In Communist Russia's first album (putting aside their Mini Album Indian Ink). As requested, it's done in the voice of the Minister. Which is something of a shame, as while there's some good material there, Herr Drill-cock! can't nail it in the way that it really must be done so. It's my favourite album of the year so far, and a good step towards accomplishing the big things I hoped for them when I saw that gloriously ramshackle performance at Moles.
(And reviewing it had the horrible experience. Mark Halloran, the main man I interviewed a year or so back, is listed as R.I.P. This immediately made me think that he'd actually died, which was mildly petrifying. While we didn't exactly hit it off and become bosom buddies, he struck me as a similarly driven human being, trying to do far too much. And if he was dead - well - that was scary shit. Turns out - as I suspected and hoped - he's just left the band, which means that I could write the Drill-cock! review without feeling bad at all)
Comic stuff? Chatted to a gentleman about a HIT, took more photos of the Abbey for PYGMALION and am promised the world's least superfast strip by its artist for early next week.
Christ. My writing's tedious today. Maybe I just want to get back to reviewed Steel Battalions with its ludicrous £140 controller or something. I'll try and make this worth while by presenting a couple of teaser images from a future HIT. Future competence will be resumed.