2004-07-16..4:35 p.m.

I�m feeling very listy today and making with the need for subheadings and titles and things. Am also feeling very pleased with myself after an inordinate amount of the �gasming last night. I must say, the Boy knows his stuff.

THIS IS THE PART WITH THE DREAMS

I�m not sure what was going on in my head this morning, but as I slowly started to take conscious swipes at my alarm clock, my dream started to meld into a sort of libretto with me in a director position reading along while it (my dream) was being enacted on a dim stage. I didn�t have my glasses (don�t usually when I sleep, strangely), so everything on stage was all fuzzy and bloc-shapes and shadow. Kind of weirdly, the script had been thwacked out on a typewriter in the same bluey ink, and on the back of the same sort of white bubble-wrap envelope as the letter I got in a dream last week. In it my Mum kept interrupting me reading and trying to take it away. In this dream the script was the only thing I could really see clearly. In both dreams I was secretly pleased that they were printed on bubblewrap envelopes (the texture is just everso thickly scrunchy, and seem to give such weight to the words printed on its padded surface) and delighted by my possession of them, yet frustrated because something was keeping me from enjoying them fully. I wonder if the dreamscript was what I had been sent in the dream last week, and that was me finally getting a look at it.

Ha ha, I just remembered I sort of woke up in the middle of all this and prodding my bed partner to regale him with the dialogue, then realising I couldn�t remember any of it and telling him I�d just go back to sleep to find out what they were saying. I made a mental note to write it down, though i didn�t have time to check my journal before I left to see if I really did. Because I take my dreamscripts seriously at 5 in the morning.

Anyway, this is what I remember:

Dreamkid #1: Well if you don�t like your job, why don�t you just move to another country?

Dreamkid #2: I can�t do that!

Dreamkid #1: I WANT YOU SO MOTHERFUCKING MUCH!

Dreamkid #2: What? Now?

THIS IS THE PART WITH THE BNP ENCOUNTERS

1. Unnecessarily Patriot Freak: Squat white woman in enormous dangly St. George�s cross earrings set in rhinestones who withdrew a red and white mobile from her Union Jack bag when it started singing the national anthem.

2. Incredulously Ignorant Freak (loudly into her mobile on a packed and very multi-ethnic bus, nodding fervently while glaring at bi-racial family no. 3 board): �Well I know, but they�re all like that.� Nods yet more vigorously. �And you know that�s my only racial prejudice!�

Then I got the Water Rats only to read the headlines and discover this. It was a simultaneous freaky coincidence (are they all out today?), and kick up the ass because with the gradual death of my walkman radio thing to listen to in the mornings, and the having to cut-and-paste articles off the internet so I�m not seen online too much at work, I�ve not a very strong grasp of the news at the moment. And at one point I would have seen that coming a mile off (not that it was a real surprise, but still. I should have known the pre-reporting on this one.) It�s rather worrying. Fuck it, I know more of what�s happening in Canada than I do here, and that�s only because I have to read their news online anyway. I do try to pick up the Guardian on the weekends, but things like food and shampoo so often get in the way. (Man, that makes me sound really facetious, but living on �25/wk budget it�s the complete and honest truth. Because I�m saving for my master�s I literally have to chose between whether I pick up deodorant or shampoo and live with smelly pits/greasy hair for the next week.)(It sounds impossible living in London, but it�s really not. I walk everywhere, use the library, spend very little on food because I scrounge lunch at work, and have an enormous almost-Catholic ingrained guilt complex installed by my mother.) But I really ought to be able to buy a paper.

THIS IS THE PART WITH THE SCARYASS PIGEONS

While Mutant Pigeons may well be de rigueur in Finsbury Park (seriously, has anyone ever seen a pigeon up there with two working feet?), they seem to be now out to in infect the rest of London.

Case in Point #1: Mohawk Pigeon.

Sighting: Seven Sisters.

I�ve mentioned this one before, but it had a Mohawk. A MOHAWK! I don�t like pigeons, but this was kicking! It should have had a little leather jacket and a couple of safety pins hanging off its beak.

Case in Point #2: Heroin Pigeons.

Sighting: Farringdon.

Scrawny, greased feathers matted and on end, chipped beaks, bloodshot eyes that couldn�t quite focus on anything. One of them had no toes, the other just a pair of stumps for legs. They were shitting endlessly. They were doing this little mating dance thing and rubbing their beaks together and it would have been cute, you know, had they been kittens or something. But they weren�t.

Case in Point #3:

Sighting: Fucking Everywhere.

Parasite-ridden, black-goop shitting, gross, crack-addled flying rats. Now I do have a tendency to audibly flinch when I see these aviatory* rodents on the ground, but flying they freak the very shit out of me. Last week I was very nearly dive bombed by a kamikaze freakout and just about collapsed in paralytic fear. Its wings clipped the side of my head, for fucks� sake!

*This apparently is not a word. It should be. Does anyone know what the word for being physically able to fly is?

Conclusion: Pigeons, a fear-monger they have made of me. Poison would not go amiss, but then we�d have carcasses on the roads and more rats, and I�m not sure I�d really approve of that measure because it�s not really their fault they�re vile. Birth control, then. They did that over here I think. They need to use stronger methods.

Considering I AM feeling so lighthearted and gloopy, I�ve been kind of negative today. Negative filtration perhaps? Leave me nice and clean for the weekend maybe? I do feel rather freshly scrubbed. A little purged even. Sprinkled with light and pixie dust. Mmm. Yes. Well. Weekend.

Snaz it up cherubs!

****meep