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I am officially (as opposed to unofficially) not going on the Central European trip. Besides the fact that there really isn't any room left, I don't think I really want it enough, not the way I did for England. I'm not disappointed, actually, though I'm really glad that there are a lot of good people going there. Someday I will visit Vienna and Prague and Salzburg and all of those lovely places with someone I know or a group of friends. If you're going, please send me a postcard.
Must scheme up other summer plans. It looks like my parents and I will actually be going somewhere around Boxing Day (I don't know what you Americans call it; I am never quite sure if I'm really an American or not).
My first forages into non 60's instrumental, non film music stuff has disturbed me greatly. First I listened to a French radio alternative of some music from the Prisoner ending episode, "Fall Out," and then I listened to something that sounded like a disco Michael Jackson imitation version called "Bang Bang," and then "I Helped Patrick McGoohan Escape."
I'm officially scared and confused (by the music; it's probably the closest I will ever get to a bad acid trip), and my brain feels like it has the consistency of runny scrambled eggs. My thought processes are freezing up, as are my feet and my face and possibly my hands, too.
People thought I was from Charlie's Angels (the movie, silly!) for the spirit day today. God forbid. I can't stand Lucy Liu, though she was tolerable in Kill Bill. Two or three people thought I was Trinity from The Matrix. I don't really care if nobody figured out who I was; me and my cult spy 60's shows are here to stay. It was really a very Mrs. Peel-ish outfit; I spent a lot of time trying to find all of that stuff, too. Possibly photos for posterity later.
Must scheme up other summer plans. It looks like my parents and I will actually be going somewhere around Boxing Day (I don't know what you Americans call it; I am never quite sure if I'm really an American or not).
My first forages into non 60's instrumental, non film music stuff has disturbed me greatly. First I listened to a French radio alternative of some music from the Prisoner ending episode, "Fall Out," and then I listened to something that sounded like a disco Michael Jackson imitation version called "Bang Bang," and then "I Helped Patrick McGoohan Escape."
I'm officially scared and confused (by the music; it's probably the closest I will ever get to a bad acid trip), and my brain feels like it has the consistency of runny scrambled eggs. My thought processes are freezing up, as are my feet and my face and possibly my hands, too.
People thought I was from Charlie's Angels (the movie, silly!) for the spirit day today. God forbid. I can't stand Lucy Liu, though she was tolerable in Kill Bill. Two or three people thought I was Trinity from The Matrix. I don't really care if nobody figured out who I was; me and my cult spy 60's shows are here to stay. It was really a very Mrs. Peel-ish outfit; I spent a lot of time trying to find all of that stuff, too. Possibly photos for posterity later.
