(no subject)
What to say, what to say.
A woodpecker has moved into the neighbourhood. It has taken to sitting on top of streetlights and alternating between making a sort of laughing sound and drumming on the metal. I would think that would be painful, but it keeps doing it.
I had a peculiar dream a few nights ago that a whole lot of people, I think a dozen or so couples, drove up into a secluded area and had casual sex with people they barely knew. The next day most of them were pretty awkward and embarassed about the whole thing, especially since some of them had ended up with coworkers, and there was a big inquiry into why all these people, who were not inclined to this sort of thing normally, had gone and done this. There was some question about the involvement of the cars, and whether the cars had orchestrated the entire event, or whether the people, despite all they claimed, had been the ones in control, and had forced the cars to be implicit in the act. In the end, it turned out that it was neither; it was actually the houses that were subtly controlling both cars and people for their own ends.
Erica told me that for my birthday, all the way in September, she'll get me a poster for my wall. She even told me what poster: "The Beatles one with them walking across the road." How sweet.
A woodpecker has moved into the neighbourhood. It has taken to sitting on top of streetlights and alternating between making a sort of laughing sound and drumming on the metal. I would think that would be painful, but it keeps doing it.
I had a peculiar dream a few nights ago that a whole lot of people, I think a dozen or so couples, drove up into a secluded area and had casual sex with people they barely knew. The next day most of them were pretty awkward and embarassed about the whole thing, especially since some of them had ended up with coworkers, and there was a big inquiry into why all these people, who were not inclined to this sort of thing normally, had gone and done this. There was some question about the involvement of the cars, and whether the cars had orchestrated the entire event, or whether the people, despite all they claimed, had been the ones in control, and had forced the cars to be implicit in the act. In the end, it turned out that it was neither; it was actually the houses that were subtly controlling both cars and people for their own ends.
Erica told me that for my birthday, all the way in September, she'll get me a poster for my wall. She even told me what poster: "The Beatles one with them walking across the road." How sweet.