I have tired brain. I’m not tired physically, I just suddenly become tired when I start reading this chapter I’m trying to edit. The words sort of blur together and I realise how frequently I repeat myself. It’s humid and warm today and I’m hiding inside. It’s not really working, as my sinuses have reminded me that humidity is good for mould. Not Bob Mould, but the other type.
I have this chapter to finish, then the other difficult one (DJing) to finish, and all before the end of the month. 20 days, with weekends off. Meanwhile, the date for submitting my application for extension draws closer and closer (loom is the appropriate word here), my panic ebbs and flows. It’s given me strange dreams, a combination of the hardcore inter-species war being conducted in the Judas Unchained universe and my sudden Lost bingeing.
I hadn’t watched Lost ever before, but an impulse added it to my trawl at the video shop last week. I thoroughly enjoyed the first 4 episodes or so, but it’s kind of losing its appeal – it’s getting silly. I keep noticing things that could either be continuity errors or clever plot lines. If this was David Lynch, I’d be overjoyed and suspecting the latter. But it’s not. One thing I want to know: how is it I can never find half a dozen functioning bobby pins in my own home, when the blondey asthma chick can find at least 20 every day on a desert island? I also want to know how the Korean chick managed to explain to the black guy which type of leaf she needed to do a little eucalyptus naturopath action on blondey. And why she didn’t punch him when he came back with an armload of wattle* instead. That’s not to mention my disbelief at his success finding this particular type of indigenous Australian plant on a tropical island which does not show any other plants from the same family or micro-climte group at all.
Ok, so it could all just be woo-aliens or wooo-government-conspiracy, but please. Respect the bounds of my belief!
On another television front, I think I could be interested in Carnivale on the ABC, but seeing as how I only ever watch telly on DVDs now, that could be difficult…
Meanwhile, we continue the Godfather Experience with Godfather II this week, prompted in part by our delight with phrases like “would I make my sister a widow?” and threatening Crinkle with waking up with the severed head of one of her beloved bunnies in her bed if she gave us any trouble. And no, despite first impressions, it wouldn’t be just like waking up with your period in the night, it would be horrific and she’d scream and scream and scream. And then come on a night time revenge visit with half a dozen henchmen and a machine gun.
In our house, if you displease don Hamleoni, you’re offered a trip to Vegas.
But back on the thesis thing: surely I’ll find my focus again soon? Surely?
*it could have been a particular alpine eucalypt indigenous only to alpine Tasmania, but please.
