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Are we nearly there yet?

Fun evening yesterday. Dawn, a artist/accountant friend of mine from our university days (and ex-girlfriend (for want of a better term)) came to visit. I hadn't seen her for ages, because last time we were due to meet, I pissed her off by standing her up at the last minute to go and watch the last Oxford showing of 'Brother' (Takeshi Kitano's latest film, and rather marvelous). It was bloody rude of me, but I hadn't expected her to be quite so cross. Still, we drifted out of touch, and I'm rubbish at getting back in contact with people (the longer the hiatus, the more impressive I feel the reconnection letter ought to be, and therefore the less likely it is that it will actually be produced), so I was really pleased when she sent me a letter, then called me up last week and arranged to visit.

We had a meal, chatted, and went for a long walk. The walk was her idea and I thought it was a rather strange one, but it was really fun. We ended up wandering like the babes in the wood into a rather spooky estate, very quiet, very uniform, some houses inhabited, others still under construction. We got the strong impression that we were very obviously outsiders, and under observation (identical alarms blinking green on every house we passed). Very J. G. Ballard. Stranger still, separated from the estate by the canal was a... building site? It looked unfinished, lit by harsh white floodlights, and only accessible by a raised drawbridge or a pedestrian footbridge with a spiked gate. It looked like the sort of place that has a sinister superintendent who dresses as a spooky ghost zombie pirate monster to scare people away. If so, it won't be these damned kids who foil his plan, as it also looked like it might have big attack guard-dogs, so we sloped off to a friendly pub, then back home.

Dawn stayed over in my room, which was good because it gave me the opportunity to prove to myself that, given half-an-hour and sufficient motivation, I could tidy my room at least to the point where the impressionable could keep from screaming or setting fire to it. Sorted. I was going to sleep on the sofa, but decided instead to borrow Lorna's bed while she's away (she's done the same to me.) Perhaps as a result, I had the closest thing to a nightmare that I tend to have. All my most unnerving dreams seem to involve falling or, in fact, being in danger of falling. In this one, I was drifting about a city on a mattress, having been blown into the sky by Tanaqui destroying the Terminator with a rocket launcher. She had a gyrocopter, so was able to return to earth, but I, of course, couldn't steer the mattress, so was stuck drifting far above the skyscrapers...

Felt in need of a little urban voodoo at work (probably influenced by rereading 'Count Zero' and 'Mona Lisa Overdrive') so grabbed some powerful totems to help me out. One was a 'Milk and Cheese' trading card (from the comic by Evan Dorkin). It's number 13, described as the 'bad-luck card', but I reckon I can use its powers for my benefit. The other object of power is one I used to have sitting on my monitor in my last job, but has recently been living on my wall. It's a 'tiny object of fear', made by my artist mate Jeremy Dennis, consisting of a sinister thick black frame bearing the single word 'Instructions:' around an inch square containing an unnerving juxtaposition of items (I guess I'd need a digital camera to give y'all the full impression.) Anyway, it's lucky I've got all this heavy occult power today because I feel completely knackered, drained and powerless; so who knows how bad I'd feel without it...

Autobiographical fact #12:
My Dad was 59(!) on Tuesday. Today he called me up to see if I'm up for going to Monastery Of Sound next weekend, which is a two day dance music festival held in a disused monastery in France. I have to admit, he's pretty fucking cool.

Current site: Acts Of Gord (found via Cruel Site of the Day)

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