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Jul. 29th, 2007 09:25 pmI just watched Stranger than Fiction and loved it. I am in an unusually emotional mood today though, even for me.
Last night I went out to the pub and then Absynth, and then went for a drive out to Cramond and sat on the shore for a while watching the sunrise. It was wonderful, sort of like being recharged, watching all the colour bleed back into the sky and all the birds increasingly cooking up a racket like the beat of a particularly suspenseful drum. I really must go out there more often, preferably with a dinghy somewhere in the mix.
I dreamt a very bad story set in inter-war Britain about crooked policemen who kept setting people up as forgerers in order to take the bail money, but then this one girl (played by me, naturally) got involved in a particular case where the accused was a friend of my dotty old Aunt Chester, and I worked out that it had to be somebody in the police station who was making the counterfeit money because the metal being used was from old melted down musical instruments that they'd been playing in the village band or something, but we had to be crafty about proving all these people's innocence. One might ask why they didn't just use the counterfeit money themselves, but apparently they only had so much metal and the bail would amount to more, so they would plant it on people who were known to have a supportive network with money. And of course in the meantime I became romantically involved with the accused.
In non-fiction, I am tied into a little knot: not sure what's what,
Mais qu'est-ce que c'est, la liberte', anyway?
Maybe one day I'll risk it all.
Can't wait 'til I risk it all.
Last night I went out to the pub and then Absynth, and then went for a drive out to Cramond and sat on the shore for a while watching the sunrise. It was wonderful, sort of like being recharged, watching all the colour bleed back into the sky and all the birds increasingly cooking up a racket like the beat of a particularly suspenseful drum. I really must go out there more often, preferably with a dinghy somewhere in the mix.
I dreamt a very bad story set in inter-war Britain about crooked policemen who kept setting people up as forgerers in order to take the bail money, but then this one girl (played by me, naturally) got involved in a particular case where the accused was a friend of my dotty old Aunt Chester, and I worked out that it had to be somebody in the police station who was making the counterfeit money because the metal being used was from old melted down musical instruments that they'd been playing in the village band or something, but we had to be crafty about proving all these people's innocence. One might ask why they didn't just use the counterfeit money themselves, but apparently they only had so much metal and the bail would amount to more, so they would plant it on people who were known to have a supportive network with money. And of course in the meantime I became romantically involved with the accused.
In non-fiction, I am tied into a little knot: not sure what's what,
Mais qu'est-ce que c'est, la liberte', anyway?
Maybe one day I'll risk it all.
Can't wait 'til I risk it all.
