From my old files, dated Nov 2010:
I had a dream last night, in which I had to fulfill a duty. Said duty involved going into a dark labyrinth and getting eaten by a monster. You know, that “for the good of the people” type of situation.
So of course I took with me some moisturizer and a Moleskine. Because obviously I have my priorities.
It’s a pity text messages don’t come in automatically threaded conversations, because it took me a few moments this morning to decipher why I was being woken up at 8am by a friend’s pithy message: “Male escorts.”
Admittedly, she knew there was a whole slew of meanings that could be imparted with just those two words.
Pater’s been sending over scans of his transparency slides. Yes, my dad still keeps hundred of transparencies. I was fascinated with them as a kid.
1980 – Computer, VCR, TV. We were state of the art, man.
1981 – I am kicking it. Apparently Li’l Bro is incubating in Mum in this pic.
1981 – Mum pregnant with Li’l Bro. This may likely be the most delicate you’ll ever see me.
1981 – Original gangsta.
E-mail exchange between Li’l Bro and I regarding a pic not shown here:
Him: Lynn’s naked with a pistol!
Me: I do all my best work naked with a pistol.
“We could put rose petals on the newlyweds’ bed.”
“Or a chicken.”
“It symbolizes fertility!”
“Do we just put a dead chicken on the bed?”
“That’s too much like The Godfather. . . .”
“No, live chickens.”
“. . . Where would we get live chickens?”
“. . .”
“We could just get raw chicken pieces and put those on the bed.”
“That would really kill the mood.”
“I haven’t watched TV for a month. Really! There’s a layer of dust on my TV screen!”
“You could use that as a message board.”
“Yeah. Someone wrote “Hi” with a smiley face on the dust. . . Somebody also wrote, ‘Get the duster.’ I still don’t know who it was. . .”