February 16th, 2006


Splutter & Spew...

Yup, I've got a proper lurghy, now. I'm desperate for ice cream; I keep thinking about kulfi (Slaver...) but can't face going out. I guess this is good, as I suppose it would only make the mucous situation worse, anyway.
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Internal Word Generator?

As I sit here shivering and hawking, I've been thinking about those odd phrases that you sometimes find running round in your head, for no reason, like some kind of prose earworm, or a mantra.
"Where's your mother?" is one of mine, and "Bring me Danegeld" (!?). Sometimes it's whole hunks of a poem... "The king sits in Dunfermline town, Drinking the blude-red wine..."
"And all should cry Beware, beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair..."
Peculiar, innit?

I dreamt I was snubbed by John Hurt last night, and patronised by George Melly.
With my hair completely buzzed off, I look a bit like a fat and poorly Leonard Cohen.The barber nicked me, and all, so I expect I have a nauseating visible scab on the back of my head. it feels gigantic. Musn't pick it. Musn't...