swings, roundabouts, teeth
Wednesday, 26 October 2005 09:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtA terrifying and possibly earth-shattering matter of judgement confronts me. The Army of Reconstruction have reached the bit where they're knocking down the old garden wall, having build the new garage walls high enough to presumably deter the persistence that is South African Crime. Simultaneously, I've been marking essays for two days, and they're uniformly the kind of thing produced by desperate undergrads who have left all their work until the last week of term, and have sandwiched essay research and writing for my seminar into a twenty-minute period between, judging from context, lengthy and technical Sociology papers which encourage jargonistic waffle in place of actual thought, and an extended drunk-up. I cannot work out if the continual thumping of the wall-bashers is more or less horrifying than the continual thumping solecisms of these wretched, accursed, horrible, annoying essays. Sometimes it's one, sometimes it's the other. Sometimes I have to give up on both for a bit and watch Angel with the sound turned up high. And, may I add, I'd forgotten how darned cute Lindsay is.
Fortunately I have also been in a position to distract myself from the manifest cares of my existence by reading my way through the complete collection of Sandman, which I am able to justify as, in fact, necessary research for the next encylopedia article (this month, Gaiman, Ever After and various Joneses). That Gaiman, he's actually a pretty extraordinary myth-maker. And, may I add, I'd forgotten how darned cute Morpheus is, in that typically gothy, brooding way, which is also tending to make me realise that Angel, while clearly Mr. Billowy Coat King of Pain, is a mere amateur in the brooding stakes.
Also whiled away half an hour today by having my teeth X-rayed. None of the technicians ran screaming, so presumably I'm not actually growing fangs from Angel-exposure, but the nice new Ideal Dentist is eyeing my wisdoms with that speculative look I so hate and mistrust in a dentist. I forsee a painful couple of days in my near future. *unchannels gypsy fortune-teller*
Must go and sleep. Last night rendered somewhat exhausting by vivid dreams about repeated encounters with an aunt in a largish institution of some sort which featured hundreds of people sleeping on rows of white mattresses on the floor. (In retrospect, this might also have been about teeth, although probably also about aunts. Either way, rather trippy.)
Fortunately I have also been in a position to distract myself from the manifest cares of my existence by reading my way through the complete collection of Sandman, which I am able to justify as, in fact, necessary research for the next encylopedia article (this month, Gaiman, Ever After and various Joneses). That Gaiman, he's actually a pretty extraordinary myth-maker. And, may I add, I'd forgotten how darned cute Morpheus is, in that typically gothy, brooding way, which is also tending to make me realise that Angel, while clearly Mr. Billowy Coat King of Pain, is a mere amateur in the brooding stakes.
Also whiled away half an hour today by having my teeth X-rayed. None of the technicians ran screaming, so presumably I'm not actually growing fangs from Angel-exposure, but the nice new Ideal Dentist is eyeing my wisdoms with that speculative look I so hate and mistrust in a dentist. I forsee a painful couple of days in my near future. *unchannels gypsy fortune-teller*
Must go and sleep. Last night rendered somewhat exhausting by vivid dreams about repeated encounters with an aunt in a largish institution of some sort which featured hundreds of people sleeping on rows of white mattresses on the floor. (In retrospect, this might also have been about teeth, although probably also about aunts. Either way, rather trippy.)
