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Oct. 6th, 2005 09:18 pmSometimes there's just no way to even explain.
I've been like a fierce, growly beast. A very small beast, a herbivorous beast of little consequence. Like a moody hamster or so.
-
So, I gotta mention this - for a couple of weeks, I went around convinced that Sara Sidle of CSI was named after one of the classic literary heroines of the western canon. Until one day, on the metro, it hit me that the part where I read that book had probably happened in a dream. Probably; I still don't know for sure. (Help?) - I'm just glad I didn't, you know, think to discuss it on the LJ or something.
-
This week, I always mean to do all sorts of productive things when I get home at night, but end up plopping down on the bed and staring at the ceiling instead, or in the armchair watching telly. Although there are only two tv shows per week I actually watch - Saturday's Green Wing and Monday's Ögonaböj. Oh I wish I wish I could share the love for the latter with you (with someone other than the whole holy domestic cultural hegemony). It's three finlandssvensk people and one fake one sitting on red couches and chatting for 35 minutes; would be 45 minutes if I had the digi-tv box (I don't! SUE ME). They discuss: moose, the Göteborg dialect, loving your all your exes still, the Swedish Academy's list of words in the Swedish language, school papers, condensed Bibles, fashion ranking lists. I sit in my armchair and fear that the neighbours will hear me laughing.
And then I go and fall asleep, every night, to the first cd out of the 31 cd's that make the audiobook of The Egyptian. I - I don't have anything to say about that, actually.
-
On Sunday (I think) I was home for lunch and caught half a special on the Turkey EU membership brouhaha on BBC World while eating - and the reporter was wearing the matching jacket to my autumn skirt, which I purchased from H&M. Something inside me died a little. I think it may have been whatever faith in the universe I still had left.
I've been like a fierce, growly beast. A very small beast, a herbivorous beast of little consequence. Like a moody hamster or so.
-
So, I gotta mention this - for a couple of weeks, I went around convinced that Sara Sidle of CSI was named after one of the classic literary heroines of the western canon. Until one day, on the metro, it hit me that the part where I read that book had probably happened in a dream. Probably; I still don't know for sure. (Help?) - I'm just glad I didn't, you know, think to discuss it on the LJ or something.
-
This week, I always mean to do all sorts of productive things when I get home at night, but end up plopping down on the bed and staring at the ceiling instead, or in the armchair watching telly. Although there are only two tv shows per week I actually watch - Saturday's Green Wing and Monday's Ögonaböj. Oh I wish I wish I could share the love for the latter with you (with someone other than the whole holy domestic cultural hegemony). It's three finlandssvensk people and one fake one sitting on red couches and chatting for 35 minutes; would be 45 minutes if I had the digi-tv box (I don't! SUE ME). They discuss: moose, the Göteborg dialect, loving your all your exes still, the Swedish Academy's list of words in the Swedish language, school papers, condensed Bibles, fashion ranking lists. I sit in my armchair and fear that the neighbours will hear me laughing.
And then I go and fall asleep, every night, to the first cd out of the 31 cd's that make the audiobook of The Egyptian. I - I don't have anything to say about that, actually.
-
On Sunday (I think) I was home for lunch and caught half a special on the Turkey EU membership brouhaha on BBC World while eating - and the reporter was wearing the matching jacket to my autumn skirt, which I purchased from H&M. Something inside me died a little. I think it may have been whatever faith in the universe I still had left.
