Stupendous quote of the day.

"I'm sure you noticed just the one earring he was wearing. And that startled quite a lot of people who were watching the programme, and a number of people wrote in to comment about it."

-- Russell Harty, after interviewing David Bowie in January of 1973.

[[What did they write in to say? "What the hell was with the earring?"]]

Random Notes On A Blackout

Something about being bereft of electricity changes the human mind considerabely. Notions that died after childhood are resurrected and rekindled. Ghosts and demons, goblins and little green men. These things are all around us, as we are robbed of our eyesight outside a small radius. Other humans might become beacons in the night: pinpricks of light outside your walls.
Lighthouses.
We never realize how dark the world is outside out electric pods, until it decides to let itself in and make itself at home, the unwanted guest.
There is something oddly, yet deeply disturbing about the light in your fridge not coming on. You're just so used to it. You still flip lightswitches like they're not temporarily dead. Your reflexes are wired for an electric world, and don't shut off with eveything else.
It's always just a tree. I'm always hoping for aliens. Or, at the very least, something a bit more exotic than a tree.
For all these disatvantages, power outages carry an odd romantic quality, like something in a dream you remember, but you don't recollect from where. Maybe it takes us back to our prehistoric days, huddled around the cave fire.
Damn. Nevermind, the lights are back on.
And the fire is out.

May the Force be with you.

Good morning.

This morning's breakfast was just almost just like the last: toaster strudel that never lives up to the picture on the box, grapefruit juice in impossibly cold shiny tin cups, Ziggy Stardust. Although, outside, all was pale and stormy. Thunder boomed in the distance. Everything was covered in a film of mist and fog hung around suspiciously in corners. And the slick and shiny melting jack o' lanterns surveyed their surrounding tiredly with the air of a man who knows the worst is over. Meanwhile, I sat in my room dimly lit only by the sun through the clouds, with my breakfast and glam rock.
Perfect.


[By the way, grapefruit juice is the breakfast juice of champions, which proves, once and for all, that I am the champion, my friend.]



May the Force be with you.

Elevator Effect

The elevator effect is something I came up with [or, rather, named]. It occurs when one is exposed to so much of a particular thing in a day that he/she has no chance of dreaming about it. This happens with me a lot. The particular occurrence that the theory is named for is this one night when I had like, this freakin six-hour Bowiefest, and I dreamed about this crappy elevator. I mean, the elevator smelled bad, and the lights were all yellowed, and there was a leak, and I was terrified of getting stuck the whole time I was in it. [Most of the dream.] It was crappy.

This was a pointless post, so I can't think of a suitable conclusion. Good day.

May the Force be with you.