I wish to sleep far more than I do. Failing time I would choose to sleep more deeply and all-round under the radar. Today's carnival of dreams involved Nathan Fillion looking concerned, but I could only see half of his face - as if I was too short and trying to see him across a shiny table. His face was reflected in the surface with something strange about his mouth. I climbed on something to see better and he didn't have a mouth, it was a black concrete railway tunnel. He held it open and I kept waiting for the scream, but there were only whispers, dark and deep, dry and dead, his eyes were dead, but it wasn't him it was a blonde man whose eyes should have been red. Then I was standing in the lab trying to spray the air with deodorant but I was holding the can in some spastic way so I sprayed my fingertips and got that foaming-because-you've-hit-to-close-to-the-nozzle.
Sleeping during the day isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I found a note to myself about zombies feasting on brains, with no tie to Nathan Fillion so far as I'm aware. I can't figure out the appeal of les zombis to anyone since I find them pretty naff (I have seen the enemy and he is a shambling corpse). The potential for metaphor is enormous, if completely unsubtle and lost in the bits-keep-falling-off-and-there-are-fluids-and-teeth! I have enough fluids, including other people's, to deal with, thank you very much. Besides, imagine the smell.
I have rediscovered Robert Frost (and apologia of a not very formal nature to anyone looking for more Robert Frost than my titles and this paragraph). I have words singing through my head when I'm not asleep. That it may be preventing my own use of words is troubling me only slightly. The music of words is enough for anyone if they know how to listen and the woods are lovely, dark and deep.
For Christmas I will be getting a Doctor Who Sonic Screwdriver - Tenth Doctor - which I suspect will be a boomerang back to small lad since he was supposed to hide it while I forgot about it when it arrived. Instead I had a rehash of "Partners in Crime" in small lad-speak. He wants to try the pointing of two sonic devices together. His sonic screwdriver - Eleventh Doctor - is now part of his school kit, in that it goes in the side pocket of his bag and gets carried everywhere. I love that he lives in his head.
Plumber's cracks abound around me at the moment. There is a lot of work going on around the lab and at home there have been workmen. Of the plumber's crack variety, not the serious eye candy sort. Dammit.
Once upon a time there was a frog who had once been a parrot. He also tried out monkey-ness, being a teapot, half-a-bee, a barfly and eventually gave up to live in a puddle. The end.
