(no subject)

Left work at 2, went home, had a salad (and it's such a relief that my stomach can handle salads - and fruit, at least in moderation - again without any problems, I'd really missed them last summer, worse than chocolate, coffee or the occasional glass of wine), was feeling a bit tired, lay down on the bed, read a couple of pages of Buddenbrooks and promptly fell asleep. Thought I'd sleep for an hour perhaps and then do some belly-dancing practice and woke up three hours later. Right. Apparently this weeks's sleep deficit is finally catching up with me...


Has the strangest and most vivid sequence of dreams, the weirdest and most disturbing part of which (and the reason for this entry, since it's a little difficult to get to this part without some kind of preamble) was the part where I dreamt I was dying. Apparently I wanted to [and this is another aspect I find disturbing, especially since many of the other parts of the dream(s) were clearly influenced by recent events, because I have been feeling really well lately, none of those depressed wanting to die moments], because I took some kind of poison someone gave me out of my free will. And then I the paralysis set in, I felt my body shutting down slowly, and I wasn't even frightened, although even within the dream I fully expected to panic when I couldn't move any more, until the moment when it should have been all over, when I thought it was over, but then wasn't and I could get up again. I wasn't frightened during the dream - I remember almost being angry, although a little relieved, too, when it hadn't worked, but I was definitely shocked waking up and remembering, and a little scared. I'm not superstitious, I definitely don't think it's a premonition of any kind, but to dream your own death in such detail... it's a little uncanny.


And then, there was another, rather fantastic part, that had John Barorwman in it, albeit briefly and in entirely boring and unimaginative ways...


My subconsciousness can be a weird and predictably boring place all at once.

(no subject)

I wonder if that's already old age catching up with me, or if the thing has improved over the last years, but - dare I say it - I'm actually having fun watching the Eurovision song contest. The Swedish Marilyn Manson light! pop! baby clone was cute, and the French were fun, too. ETA: and the Serbian lesbians! yay!

Further ETA: Love the Romanians, too. And the Bulgarians; unusual but also strangely fascinating. (And while I'm at it - the Israelis should have also made it into the finale.)

ETA the 3rd: [insert snarky comment about Moldowian's singer's trousers, and how they stay on her hips]


I think the problem with both Austria and Germany, and the cause of yearly drama, lamentations and self-examinations is that we're taking the whole thing too seriously while at the same time not daring to take it seriously enough. We want to produce Hochkultur and can't unselfconsciously embrace the pop & kitsch & camp, or just have fun and laugh at ourselves a bit.