radio radio
07.07.03 @ 12:31 a.m.
This will likely be short because my right hand is a mass of agony of the strained muscle/carpal tunnel variety. I spent all evening clipping the little sapling sprout things from around the base of the crabapple tree in the back yard. It was either that or chopping at the ivy or the blackberries, and, well, I don't really know how to cut the ivy away from the trees properly (even though I feel responsible for it now--It's a horrible invasive species, which didn't bother me until I learned my grandparents planted it and now I've some 'sins of the (grand)father' complex about it. De-fucking up the ecosystem and so forth. And I was sick of getting poked and scratched by the blackberry vines, so today it was strained muscles from cutting through tree limbs and thick saplings. Ow.
But I did get to blast the first disc of the Rolling Stones' Forty Licks out into the lovely, idyllic farmland on which I live. So that was cool.
Other than that, I didn't do much today. I finished reading a Regency. (I'm watching hideously trashy TV--Blind Date to be specific because there's little else on in the middle of a Sunday night--and this girl asked the guy if he had accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and personal savior which reminded me of the 'you bastard' guy, which is one of the funniest things I've ever witnessed in my life.) I also just finished typing out what was practically an essay on "I Am the Walrus" for Martha's rock history class. Er, that came out funny. She's analyzing the lyrics and was asking if it was 'crabalocker' or 'cramalocker' which I answered after much typing of quotes by John Lennon about said song. Then I found the lyrics in Anthology and typed them up.
My god. I am such a pedantic bastard about rock music. I really am. I enjoy giving little sixties-based lectures a bit too much.
Speaking of musicians, I had a dream last night that was totally populated with celebrities. After a long dream about a school dance that ended with the death/disappearance of my junior high/early high school crush, Scott, that had both feelings of Stephen King's Carrie (in that there was a death at a dance... Like the way Tommy dies, but none of the other carnage or the pig's blood or anything) and Harry Potter in that there was a lot of Harry Potter themed candy around in the dream. Anyway, I was sad after Scott disappeared as it was clearly tragic circumstances in the dream. And I had been his date, which had been nice in a friendly/cuddly way. He was a nice boy back in the day and we were very good friends... but that was it. *sigh* Back to the dream. I was sitting on my front lawn (which I never do because the dogs would bark at me) and Conan O'Brien came out to talk to me. We chatted for a while and because he knew I was sad, he arranged a concert for me. I went to my grandma's front patio and sat on this little hill that slopes up from the edge opposite her front door. The first musician to arrive was David Bowie (why do you make so many cameo appearances in my dreams, David Bowie?!?) who was wearing a fedora and carrying a guitar case. Then Keith Richards and Mick Jagger arrived and started bickering. The concert was to be filmed but it was really low budget, which means there were three folding chairs and a single camera. Keith was put out about how low budget the whole thing was and Mick wanted him to be a good sport. Conan was sitting next to me and was writing a script/premise for the concert. While I was watching Mick and Keith argue, Conan turned into an older Pete Townshend. Pete showed me his script and Mick and Keith started playing an Elvis Costello song (I don't know which one... I have a version of "Radio Radio" that starts as another song then switches to "Radio Radio" after a couple of seconds--I think it's from the SNL that got him banned for rebelling against Lorn Michaels. I digress) and Bowie had disappeared. I woke up while trying to figure out a way to tell Pete that his script really kind of sucked.
Well. I guess I couldn't keep my resolution about keeping this short and now I'm paying the price. My arm hurts like crazy, so goodnight!
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
