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Recently found myself reading loads of random people’s Live Journal diaries and realizing that there were a lot of similarities between the various ex –Eng.Lit students’ accounts of the tedium of their lives (described in neurotic detail) and I sort of wondered what the point of all this truth is when it’s sold by the ton.

Last night I dreamt that I was with my brother and Charlie, and my dad, and some faceless children, in the north of England somewhere. I kept noticing these signs on the walls that simply said “PINT” (in a sort of old-fashioned pub-sign script) and had an arrow pointing. I remember thinking that it served a useful function at the time, but now that I’m awake I can’t help but feel it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

Had a dream the other week that was particularly amusing, and I jotted down the following to help me remember it in detail, but it hasn’t worked. Still:

family drinks
be nice for a change
cocktails for me and brother
cliff richard
strawberry switchblade

On Mill Road the other day I noticed a man leaning against a bin, and I as I passed I saw liquid collecting around the base of the receptacle. He must lead an incredibly busy life, I mused.

Been watching a lot of “I’m A Celebrity – Get Me Out Of Here!” which was sold (to me at least) on the basis of John Lydon. It’s kind of turned my world upside down, as I find myself lost in some kind of interpretation vortex. Last night I’m watching Jordan and Kerry McFadden eating flies, maggots and huge fish eyes and having to really, really struggle to make some kind of sense of it all. It was a bit like when you’re a kid and you try and think of space going on forever and your young mind can’t let go of the idea of finitude or whatever. It’s like some kind of offensively rancid version of postmodernity. Don’t get me wrong though, I fucking lap it up. I ought to watch it straight every so often though, just to get just a bit of perspective. I’m also worried at just how fond I’m becoming of Ant and Dec. I keep slurring eulogies to their instinctive comic teamwork to Sam, who just laughs at me.

I must write more about I’m A Celebrity, and John Lydon in particular. I was doing some shaky theorizing to Andrew in the pub the other night, but I think I was drinking Rochefort 10 by then, and it didn’t really come off.

Posted February 2, 2004 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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