Sdtrk: ‘With every heartbeat’ by Robyn (feat. Kleerup)

WARNING: I’m subjecting you to another one of my dreams.

Steve (a former roommate), Marika (Shi-chan’s Organik sister), and I (me) were driving in my car to some motel, for some reason or other. The temperature outside was warm but not too unpleasant, so I’d had my rear windows down halfway. After pulling into the parking lot, we all got out; I was going to make reservations, and while that was occuring, Steve said he was going to go do something, and Mari was going to hit the adjacent Sunoco for something to drink. ‘Right, we’ll meet back in ten minutes,’ I said. So I headed into the hotel office — it was rather dingy, and it reminded me of one of those office trailers that you see on construction sites. Also, it seemed that no-one there was under the age of seventy. I went up the six or so steps and entered; the office was small and custard-coloured, but had a clear view of the parking lot. I saw the manager and his wife, who again had to be too old to be doing what they were doing, and I’d said, ‘I’d like to reserve a room please…’ then in looking out the window over the manager’s shoulder, I spotted a woman and her two sons. Their car was parked next to mine, and the mother had simply opened my left rear door, and pulled out a large framed Evangelion poster from my backseat. She was speaking to her two sons, who looked to be around six and ten, and they were nodding approvingly.
‘Ah, excuse me, I’ll be right back, someone’s, uh, taking something out of my car…’ I then bolted to where she was — she had just placed my poster in her back seat and was getting her kids back in the car, and I have to add that none of them were in any great hurry, bizarrely enough.
‘Ahh, what the fuck are you doing with my poster?’ I’d said to the mum. She was probably about 4’10”; I somehow sussed that she and her kids might’ve been Filipino.
‘Oh, uh, I’m sorry,’ she replied. She wasn’t freaked out or anything; she seemed slightly embarrassed, but it was more as if she was just inconvenienced. I reached into the back of her sedan and pulled out my poster, and also, without being seen at all, I spotted an LP on the backseat and took that, hiding it beneath my poster.
As she and her sons were getting in, I remarked, ‘You might want to get out of here before I call the cops.’ She turned backwards in her seat to reverse, and while she was engaging in that, I managed to surreptitiously break off her left side wing mirror.

Steve & Mari came back a couple of minutes later; I told them what happened, and they were aghast. ‘One of you has to stay with the car now,’ I’d mentioned, ‘while I go and get these reservations taken care of. ‘I’ll do it,’ replied Mari, and Steve followed with ‘I’m done, so I’ll stay here too.’ So I headed back into the office, which now contained around seven or eight other old people; most were milling around, but a couple were seated on a bed without sheets which was in the back corner of the already-cramped office.
‘Sorry about that,’ I’d said to the manager, ‘Someone was stealing something right out of my car.’
‘Yeah, there’s been a lot of that lately,’ he replied. ‘Times are rough these days, you know?’

So yeah! No idea what to make of that. As per usual. It’s a shame I didn’t realise it was a dream, as I could’ve laid a spinning piledriver on that mum; that would’ve been amusing.

In the meantime, Happy holidays, you ingrates. 🙂 Go listen to the new Ricky Gervais podcast!

Sdtrk: ‘A girlfriend is…’ by Vena cava

Unfortunately, despite the fact that we’ve got a month until Festivus, it’s pretty much been cancelled this year, on account of Michael Richards acting like a complete fucking twat. Now, I’ve seen the video of him ranting onstage, and followed that up with his apology on Letterman, and I’m still trying to assess it all.
Stand-up comedians get heckled all of the time; it’s part and parcel of the trade. Richards has been in that business for a long time, and I’m certain that he knows there’s a professional way to handle hecklers, and then there’s the other way, which is to let them get to you. You could say ‘yeah, he lost his rag, but people who get angry say a lot of things they don’t necessarily mean in the heat of the moment,’ and I would agree. But he didn’t stop with a sentence — he just went on and on with it, to a disturbing degree. To me, that indicates that he wasn’t just going for the shock value, this was a nerve that obviously got touched, and he was off shouting things that might well have been inside him for quite a while.
Me? I hate plenty of people. Tons. Do I hate them because of their skin colour or race? No, I despise them because of how they behave. And ultimately, that’s how Richards should’ve conducted it. If they were making a ruckus, well hey — that, as they say, is showbiz. But the shit that he’d said isn’t stuff that you just say off the cuff. He shouldn’t have said it. He honestly shouldn’t have been thinking it, but you can’t control how people think. Unfortunately.

A lot of people remarked that after this, his career has been effectively shot in the face, but unfortunately, Mel Gibson is still working; more than likely, with his best pals, the Jews.* However, Gibson probably has more money than Richards — as he told his arresting officer, he owns Malibu — so there’s that to consider.

Then there was his apology on Letterman. Before I’d seen it, I was quite sceptical, as I just saw it as him really trying to cover his ass after the fact. In day-to-day affairs, I’m much more of a cynical individual, and personally, I think most people are lying much more often than they tell the truth. But watching the apology segment from start to finish, he does appear somewhat sincere — he’s realised he’s made a grand mistake, and seems penitent about it. He was visibly getting frustrated at points, mainly cos Letterman’s audience was at points laughing… I don’t know if they thought he was making some misplaced attempt at humour, or if they were laughing cos they simply didn’t know how to react.
I guess if Richards is genuinely honest about wanting to make amends, we’ll see how he goes about it in the next couple of weeks. I did notice one thing, though; his apology was a general one to everyone present that eve, and to ‘Afro-Americans’ *coughshockinglyoutdatedcough* everywhere, but he didn’t really specifically say he was sorry to the two hecklers.

It’s occurred to me that I’ve talked more about mainstream media with this single post, than I ever have in the entirety of ‘Shouting etc etc’, which means that this was almost a waste of a post. But I’ve loved ‘Seinfeld’ for years, and it could be argued that the only reason that I’m writing this is that it’s due to a performer that I enjoyed, making horrible remarks that affect me on an obvious level.

So! Onto other news: I dreamt last night that I had taken a nap for an hour, cos I had to go to class later that eve, in order to turn in my final paper. But when I awakened (in the dream; yes, it’s rather meta), it was still sunny out, but I knew that I had overslept by several hours. I’d attempted to check what time it was, but my alarm clock and my watch both read 7.77. Well, my watch read 7.77, and the clock was 7.73. Understandably, I was panicking cos I had no idea what the hell time it really was…
As an aside, you notice there’s no speaking clock anymore? I don’t know when they finally got rid of it, but you can no longer dial (area code) 555.1212, and hear the Robot Lady announce, with unerring precision, what time it was. Or is. If they fired her, at the very least, I hope she has a decent job now.

‘Even a stopped clock is right twice every day. After some years, it can boast of a long series of successes’
— Marie von Ebner-Eschenbach

And speaking of automata and mainsprings, new YouTube videos are up, cos it’s that time again (pun not intended). Happy 23rd, and Happy Cholera Blankets Day! Go listen to the new Ricky Gervais podcast!

*Don’t get me wrong; in Mad Max, he was a badass, but then he started crapping on about that stupid religious cult he’s in, and therefore lost all respect from me, as well as anyone else with a functioning brain in their head

Sdtrk: ‘Ground zero: Infinity dose’ by SPK

So I dreamt the other night that my friend Mike and his dad were living over an auto repair shop, and that he was working with some Brazilian/Mexican bloke on a project for a new pseudo-Kamen rider series, with the motif based on apes. The Mexican bloke had ICQed me, but he was using Mike’s computer, so I saw this message from aneamo (Mike’s online alias) asking if I liked Noise & Power-electronics and I was like ‘huh?? Mike knows I like Noise, he’s known me for years!’ He’d first sent a message asking if this was Davecat — I guess he was actually online at the time — but I didn’t respond initially, as I was busy at the time. Then a couple of minutes later, he typed, ‘i am *name*, i am 17 years old, and i like merzbow, whitehouse, masonna, mb, etc etc..’ I suppose I sussed that he was of Latin descent, as all of his sentences began with an upside-down exclamation mark.

Later, I somehow managed to get hold of the Latino fella’s sketchbook, and I was sitting in the coffeeshop section of a Borders, looking over a couple of the coloured pencil sketches he did for their KR project. Despite the idiotic-sounding motif (apes??), the drawings were rather good.. Then this pleasant-looking Asian lass that looked about 17 or 18 came over and sat next to me. When she didn’t get my immediate attention, she pulled out a coloured pencil of her own, and began doodling in the margins of the sketchbook. ‘Heh — that’s not mine, you know,’ I told her. She stopped.

Naturally, I’ve no idea what to make of that. The Kamen rider idea was undoubtedly fueled by the fact that I’ve been watching a lot of downloaded tokusatsu shows recently, such as GARO and Kamen rider Kabuto, but the rest of it? No clue. I don’t think I’ve ever known a Spanish bloke in my entire life! I don’t think I’ve ever lived over an auto repair place my entire life! Who comes up with this stuff?? Don’t answer that.

And if you think that’s bad, a couple of nights before that, I dreamt that Captain Jack Harkness, the dashing bisexual 51st Century rogue from Doctor Who, had a pet bear cub that spoke English. I was initially impressed, like anyone else would be, but it seems that the only word this cub could speak was ‘ham’, and that’s all it would repeat. ‘Ham,’ it would say, in a voice you would expect from a winsome four year old. ‘Ham ham ham ham.’

What the fuck?

Sdtrk: ‘I like Mozart’ by France Gall

This morning, like I’d said, I managed to stumble out of bed and successfully type out notes to my most recent dream. Hoorah!

It occurred during a morning in late Autumn/early Winter, cos I remember the light had that kind of super-clarity that you only get during the colder months. There wasn’t any snow on the ground, but it was definitely brisker than I like it. After walking along the stretch of small office buildings on northbound Livernois between Eight and Nine mile, I entered one of them. Soon, I was in a room about the size of your typical small office centre, where there were rows of desks, of the same sort that you’d find in school. There was even a chalkboard down the front. As I sat down in the rightmost desk at the front of the class, other people started arriving, and took seats of their own, and shortly after that, Boyd Rice entered with two other blokes, all of whom were wearing cold weather coveralls. They all sported either some kind of bag or backpack, and one of them went to the chalkboard and started writing things on it, whilst Boyd and the other bloke (Michael Moynihan?) began walking up and down the aisles, distributing papers and pamphlets to everyone. Boyd caught my eye, and he acknowledged me with a ‘Hey, Davecat,’ to which I gave a wave. The person sitting behind me had gotten up for a second to leave the room, so Boyd took a seat.
‘Hey Boyd, what’s been up?’
‘Man, I feel like shit. I’ve got this pounding headache, and my sinuses are all screwed up from this cold I’ve got,’ he replied, and I could see that his nose was indeed runny and puffy. There was a little bit of snot too; it was kinda gross. ‘But you ‘ll never guess what’s getting me through this.’
‘Err, Sudafed?’
‘No — Pepto-Bismol! It coats everything, and it’s so pink and reassurring. In fact, I took some last night and it helped me get some writing done.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out a bubblegum pink notepad, with copious sentences written out in longhand in blue ballpoint ink. ‘Check out how much I wrote!’ He sectioned off about 3/4ths of the pad’s pages with his thumb and forefinger.
‘Damn! Not too shabby!’ I replied.
‘Also,’ he continued, ‘I’ve been speaking with some people, and it turns out they really want me in the role of The Master in the upcoming season of Doctor Who.’
I was impressed. ‘Wow. You’ve been busy! Which reminds me — I saw a flyer stuck onto a telephone pole that says you’re running for some kind of office?’
‘Yeah, actually, that’s why I’m here now, in order to speak to people.’
‘Well shit, I’ll let you do your thing, Boyd, and we’ll talk more when you’re done.’ And then he stood up.
‘Okay, cool, we’ll talk in a bit.’ As he got back to handing out pamphlets, I wondered to myself — I had seen that flyer on a telephone pole in Ferndale, which is in Oakland county. Now, since I live in Wayne county, would I be able to vote for him? *stroking chin*

And that’s it!
Hrrm.. Boyd Rice as The Master. On the one hand, he’s no Anthony Ainley, but on the other hand, he’s no Eric Roberts, thankfully. Plus, he has had a goatee in his life. And been accused of being evil incarnate.
Personally, I think he’d be better running for office. But what the hell kind of office would he find suitable? Furthermore, Ferndale is like a Fisher-Price city — it’s about two-tenths the size of Detroit. What kind of motions would Boyd pass, if elected?
I’m sure he could bring back the Circus Maximus, for starters

Sdtrk: ‘We don’t belong’ by Sylvan

No, the heat hasn’t killed me. But it’s sure as hell trying. It’s been in the lower 90s every day since I last posted! I can only say this: Autumn better arrive early, and last for a long time — like from early September to mid-November. Mother Nature, I’M CALLING YOU OUT!!

I’m disappointed. I was semi-awake for like nearly half an hour before I got out of bed today, and all during that time, I was attempting to remember the details of last night’s dream. But, as it turns out, that the last half of my dream consisted of me attempting to remember the details of the first half of my dream. GodDAMNIT!!@
So what I’m left with is: it was a sunny-yet-nice day, and I was in the parking lot of ILHS, which was the location of the best job I’ve ever had in real life. I was driving some sort of sports car — a Mazda Rx-8, I believe — and you know how you can remove the back seats in vans? Well, you could do that to all the seats in my car, and two of my coworkers were putting them back in for me. Whilst that was going down, I was standing a few feet away, speaking to my real-life supervisor Avinash about Synthetiks.
‘What can you tell me about CandyGirls? I have seen a couple of pictures of them on the Internet, and I thought getting one would be pretty neat, but what would you say about them?’ he asked. (Picture that being said with an Indian accent, by the way.)
‘Well, to be honest, they’re not really my area of expertise’, I replied. ‘I mean, they’re cute and all, but for some reason, I never got too into them. I could tell you about RealDolls, Rare-Borgs and Mechadolls all day, but I don’t know a whole lot about the CandyGirl line, sorry.’
I was about to suggest that he hop online and hit the Doll Forum, when Sandy, one of my coworkers, motioned for me to come over to my car. ‘You gotta clear some of these quarters off the floor before we can get these seats in,’ she said. I peered inside my car, and there was about $50 in quarters spread out all over the floor.
‘O!’ I exclaimed, a bit surprised. ‘Oops!’

Aaand that’s pretty much all I recall. What would a dream interpreter make of this, I wonder?
1) I miss my job at ILHS.
1) I’m a trusted Synthetiks expert.
1) My quarter storage skills are horribly inadequate.
…yeah, that sounds about right.
Back in the early-to-mid Nineties, I used to keep detailed dream journals, and I was pretty disciplined about it, too. My problem now is that I do my best to recall what occurred in my dream; however, my desire to stay in bed and dream even more usually wins out. I’m too busy trying to spend my time in the proverbial dreamland, that by the time I legitimately wake up, I have around ten minutes or less before I forget the intricacies and plot points of what I was dreaming.

I’ve got to get ready for my final session of Transcription technology, but I’ll return with a summary of the fine Sunday evening I had with a couple of mates. In the meantime, here’s a link to a video clip from 2003 of Actroid-chan, before she made her official NEDO Expo debut (click on where it says ‘MOVIE’, obviously). Automatically cute!