Recently I have been having bad dreams. I am not the sort of person to remember my dreams, but my dreams are creeping further into my consciousness. They seem to be insecurity/persecution type of variety and have involved numerous scenarios where The Missus has finally had enough of me and left – which left me waking up feeling thoroughly bereft and miserable for the rest of the day. The most disturbing one was a murder dream in which I killed a man and revelled in it. I think it was a re-run of the dog incident and my mind was trying to fix it with a grim conclusion. There’s nothing more disturbing in having a dream in which you are elbow deep in guts and enjoying every minute of it. That dream really disturbed me. It was a real horror gore show and no mistake. In it, I even got caught by the police and showed absolutely no remorse.
At this point, I begin to wonder if I should start a seperate site where I can write about these things anonymously because you’ve probably all deleted this link from your Favourites list in a frantic attempt to distance yourself from this nutjob. I hate dreams, I really do. The absolutely worst type of dream for me is the night terror which has me running from the bedroom away from an unseen assailant. It was a wonder I never fell down the stairs and broke my neck. But since having Alex sleeping by the side of the bed, those terrors have gone. Strange that…
My right knee is really giving me gip at the moment. It’s really sore and so is my right hip. I think it might have something to do with crossing my legs once too often. Or it might be that I am finally getting old and I am ready for the knacker’s yard. Yup – that’s how I feel.
So in the post I recieve the latest instalment of the Adrian Belew “Sides” trilogy. Now I was going to write a review and say this and write that and point out the other, but I realise that having any kind of meaningful opinion is thoroughly futile these days. However, I will say this: Adrian Belew is a very talented musician who could have distilled the three CDs into a very strong single album – instead we have three wishy-washy CDs. What was that? Three-album deal from Sanctuary and this was a way of fulfilling his contractual obligations? How I could I dare suggest such a thing? The shame, the shame. But there’s some good stuff over the three CDs but as a trilogy it just about hobbles home. Of course, it will have your common-or-garden King Crimson fan flicking their bean in semi-reverential orgiastic pleasure. Oh well, what do I know? Nothing. Just keep yer gob shut Darren and agree with everyone.
The Apprentice finally saw Syed getting the Royal Order of the Boot last night. He’d dodged the bullet for too long, but I will miss his peculiarly entertaining brand of B.S. I actually felt sorry for him on the boat trip when I saw his face drop and he came unravelled when he realised that Paul Tulip had got the advantage over him by using the ship’s TV station. The next show should be interesting when it is whittled down to just the final two: it sounds controversial but I can’t see Ansell or Tulip making in the cut as one is ineffective nice guy and the other one is full of the brown stuff. My money is on an all female finale with the mighty Badgertron bludgering her way into the Brentwood HQ of Sugar Esq.
Meanwhile, I have come to realise that there’s quite a few different versions of the song “Music for a Found Harmonium”. Now I am a big Penguin Cafe Orchestra fan (the band that originally recorded the song) and it seems that the track, although written by Simon Jeffes, has fallen into folklore and some believe it is a traditional Irish reel. Indeed, a number of Irish folk acts have recorded the song and I’ve even discovered that has recently been covered by former Robert Fripp students The California Guitar Trio. Their version isn’t bad, but isn’t a patch on Irish folk supergroup Patrick Street’s version – they just lack the passion of their Irish cohorts or the sunny jauntiness of the original performers. Jeffes is my musical hero of mine and when I discovered that Jeffes had died of a brain tumour in late 1997, I burst into tears like a big girl. You see, I do have a heart and emotions.

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