Reality and Ultrareality.
I closed my eyes early this morning, after working a 15-hour shift yesterday daytime and then struggling to stay awake so that I didn't sleep too soon before going onto nights tonight - which is where I am now.
I found myself in a wonderfully happy dream, where Jo and I were sat in a tiny bi-plane. We had been hired to fly in the rafters at the large Tesco nearby for the purposes of their filming an advert, turning at impossible angles and making implausible maneouvres over the frozen goods aisles, divebombing towards the deli counter.
At some point, we decided that this wasn't quite good enough, so we shot our way out through the large glass-fronted store, and chugged our little engine out towards the nearby Morrisons, which was packed full of shoppers. We were pursued all the way by angry Tesco staff, who were trying to throw fresh vegetables at us in order to force us turn us back. As soon as we swooped into the revolving door, they had to turn back. Because, you know, you can't have Tesco staff in a Morrisons.
And even though we were scaring the living daylights out of the shoppers, the Morrisons staff were more than happy to have us there, waving and smiling as we bore down on a fat family of five near the meat pies and sausage rolls.
I didn't mind waking up, but it would be nice to go there again.
*
(Miles, I hope you get the reference, even if no-one else does.)
It's General Election time here in the UK, and I was "fortunate" enough to see the Party Political Broadcast by the British National Party. It was amazingly well done, as it just about perfectly summed up the entire party - as a completely incoherent, rabid rambling mess of specious facts rounded up by a small, brown-haired guy spouting aggressive rhetoric with heavy "under"tones of racism, surrounded by a sea of skinheads cheering in the background. The sad thing was, the last part took place not 15 miles from where I live. Wirklich.
You can see the sorry abortion of a message here, apparently. Be sure to clear your cookies afterwards, and then visit here to clear your political soul.
I found myself in a wonderfully happy dream, where Jo and I were sat in a tiny bi-plane. We had been hired to fly in the rafters at the large Tesco nearby for the purposes of their filming an advert, turning at impossible angles and making implausible maneouvres over the frozen goods aisles, divebombing towards the deli counter.
At some point, we decided that this wasn't quite good enough, so we shot our way out through the large glass-fronted store, and chugged our little engine out towards the nearby Morrisons, which was packed full of shoppers. We were pursued all the way by angry Tesco staff, who were trying to throw fresh vegetables at us in order to force us turn us back. As soon as we swooped into the revolving door, they had to turn back. Because, you know, you can't have Tesco staff in a Morrisons.
And even though we were scaring the living daylights out of the shoppers, the Morrisons staff were more than happy to have us there, waving and smiling as we bore down on a fat family of five near the meat pies and sausage rolls.
I didn't mind waking up, but it would be nice to go there again.
*
(Miles, I hope you get the reference, even if no-one else does.)
It's General Election time here in the UK, and I was "fortunate" enough to see the Party Political Broadcast by the British National Party. It was amazingly well done, as it just about perfectly summed up the entire party - as a completely incoherent, rabid rambling mess of specious facts rounded up by a small, brown-haired guy spouting aggressive rhetoric with heavy "under"tones of racism, surrounded by a sea of skinheads cheering in the background. The sad thing was, the last part took place not 15 miles from where I live. Wirklich.
You can see the sorry abortion of a message here, apparently. Be sure to clear your cookies afterwards, and then visit here to clear your political soul.