intellectual
Wednesday, 11 January 2006 03:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtI'm feeling all intellectual, like. There is a small rampart of books around my desk, all of them veritable tomes on postmodernism, feminism and Angela Carter. I had forgotten how truly weird some of Carter's writing is. Amazing lady. But hell to compress into a thousand words for an encyclopedia entry. George Macdonald was a lot easier, I suppose because my state of triumphant atheism means I tend to patronise him rigid for fluffy religious wossname. Very energising, a feeling of superiority. Angela Carter, on the other hand, scares me to death. Intellectual, yes, but I also have a headache. (The current state of horrible heatwave isn't helping. Damn Cape Town and all its sunny ilk!)
Speaking of death:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
strawberryfrog, please be very careful. I had a long, involved and rather distressing dream last night in which you were killed after a high-speed car-chase around a big, black lake. I spent unpleasant portions of the night trying unavailingly to phone all sorts of people to break the news to them. Please avoid all high-speed cars and big black lakes for a while. Although, to be honest, such visions are less likely to be genuine psychic wossname than over-vivid indigestion dreams from the excellent curry supplied last night by wolverine_nun and her husband. The mad social whirl isn't stopping: Monday night was jo&stv's killer Thai, this time with benefit of genuine Thai basil, a plant of which I discovered and gifted them for Christmas. It now resides in their living room, inhabited, as a sort of involuntary bonus, by a miniature green mantis who has been christened Barbarella by the proud owners, on the grounds that it has a head and therefore must be a female. (I should mention that a large quantity of margarita accompanied Monday night's dinner. Never name pets while drunk). Tomorrow night is book club. I may give up food for the weekend.
Speaking of death:
strawberryfrog, please be very careful. I had a long, involved and rather distressing dream last night in which you were killed after a high-speed car-chase around a big, black lake. I spent unpleasant portions of the night trying unavailingly to phone all sorts of people to break the news to them. Please avoid all high-speed cars and big black lakes for a while. Although, to be honest, such visions are less likely to be genuine psychic wossname than over-vivid indigestion dreams from the excellent curry supplied last night by wolverine_nun and her husband. The mad social whirl isn't stopping: Monday night was jo&stv's killer Thai, this time with benefit of genuine Thai basil, a plant of which I discovered and gifted them for Christmas. It now resides in their living room, inhabited, as a sort of involuntary bonus, by a miniature green mantis who has been christened Barbarella by the proud owners, on the grounds that it has a head and therefore must be a female. (I should mention that a large quantity of margarita accompanied Monday night's dinner. Never name pets while drunk). Tomorrow night is book club. I may give up food for the weekend.
