are keeping me from sleep. After three days in the studio with a power sander at my disposal the dust and the onset of hayfever have left me with a voice that has drawn comparisons to wheezy the penguin from toy story and a grey tinge to my hair that made some believe I'd emerged from the regency period, that or I had just gained about forty years. However, we do have two very amazing white walls, so it was worth the huskiness and the premature aging. And the honey and lemon I'm drinking now, lets just ignore the fact I had to take both the vital ingredients for this from a flatmate's cupboard, but I will do a replenishing food run at some point over the weekend.
It has been a pretty good week as weeks go, if I overlook the fact that my right bicep is now considerably bigger than my left thanks to the sander reverberations. Wednesday saw an early morning jaunt to Oxford Street, and a painful rendering of money away from my bank account. Purchased: an amazing all in one. a beautiful beautiful jumpsuit to frolic around in to my hearts content. And some fake flowers for my hair, naturally. And another Muji notebook and a pen, just in case. Making the most out of the travelcard the evening saw me and ellie, in our onesies head off to Koko to see Yeasayer. Amazing. Right at the front. It would have been so much better had I not been consistently distracted by how full my bladder was and the need to relieve it. Still, I held out for a good ninety minutes.
Thursday brought about more studio exertions and a gradual decline in my vocal strength. Also a visit to the Montague Arms for the unwrong quiz. How to describe the Montague. It looks like a hedgehog has polyfillered the ceiling and Salvador Dali scattered trinkets inside it. And then B&Q came along to drape some of its various fairy light assortments. I won the most incredible book, entitled 'Sleeping with Soldiers, in Search of the Macho Man.' Actually its the least incredible book that I think has been in circulation, and I'm too embarrassed to even quote a passage from it. Suffice to say it deals with a woman who knows what she wants and isn't at all subtle about it. Though amazon are selling new copies of it for £15.95, that's pretty good.
Today saw a freshly painted studio and some heavy dust removal.
Tonight sees the impact of the cider bought for me by my lovely third year, the floor paint fumes and the dust cloud that has seemed to settle in my throat. Sleep may not be on the agenda for a long while. On flicking through 'The Art of Looking Sideways' once again, the discovery was made that we spend on average 25 years of our life asleep. 7% of this we spend dreaming. That's just under two years of our life we spend with wistful imaginings and distortions of our day unravelling through our unconscious. I just wish the gap between them and reality wasn't so disparate. Never mind. Anyway, thanks to my late night blog wandering, I stumbled upon the work of Amandine Alessandra. It has something of a dream like quality about it, in releasing words from print. There's something about playful typography that never fails to make me smile, and it reminded me of those plastic cups I'd seen in Camberwell.
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