Numbers play a big part in my life, which is odd because I hate them. Well, not them per se, but mathematics and having to engage with it. nevertheless, I notice numerical-type things all the time. We have four animals, two dogs and two cats. Three of these animals are female, three are desexed, but a different combination of three.
I try to sleep in multiples of 1.5 hours. I read somewhere that our sleep cycle renews every ninety minutes, so for me it's 7.5 or 9. usually I go for 9. every night, as the orange numbers on the bedside clock dutifully march on, the number of beings in the room is in constant flux. Two people, two dogs. One dog leaves (cos the couch is more comfortable than her bed). One cat meows. One person (Kat, cos it's her asshole cat that meows all the time) leaves, comes back with a cat and on it goes.
I like the number 17. I have for a long time. It was my first sporting number. Seven on its own was already taken and there weren't enough iron-on sevens in the store for me to have 77, so i settled for 17. Deep. Anyway, I see it everywhere, like I'll be on the bus and just happen to look at house numbers as we pass no. 17, or I'll be playing a game of hockey and just happen to glance up at the clock as it reads 00:17. In my mind it's because that number holds a special meaning for me, some cosmic purpose lies hidden within it. One day it'll all become clear and I will have no reason to live anymore and I'll die, right there on the spot, with a smiling mouth which will probably house only 17 teeth by then. More realistically I probably see it everywhere because I subconsciously seek it out. In spite of this, I will still live awaiting that final exposé.
This morning I selected a different pair of socks than I usually do. I chose a pair that used to belong to my Dad. I have several pairs of Dad's socks, some are really old. The ones I put on this morning (not so old) are sports socks, they feature the Asics logo. When I unfolded them, I saw immediately that at some time, he'd written his name on them, at the toe, in his dated caps lock print. This struck me as very cute! He was probably in hospital and thought the nurses would steal his good Asics socks. Not really any point to mentioning this. Now it's common knowledge that today I wear socks bearing my Father's name and also the Asics logo. Whilst sitting on the bed, I leaned over to show Kat the toe. In doing so, I leaned on her hair and ripped a few out, so I don't think she was impressed with the socks at all.
Ok, last thing for today. Sometimes I suddenly realise that even though I've felt a certain way about something for ages (like religion), it's actually total shit and my world is rocked for a minute or two while my mind is blown. This week in Screen class, we talked about the film Face Off. We were looking at the way films are constucted. All of a sudden I realised that Face Off is sooooo bad! So bad! Then, right there in class, I started to giggle because I was imagining the writer or writers who had to sell that idea to some studio execs (some apparently desperate studio execs). In my head, it went like this:
JEREMYand TODD are at the front of the room, jazzed up and gesticulating wildly in turns. The board members look bored, glance at their watches, sneak peeks at their phones under the table, pull funny faces as they stifle yawns.
Ok, ok. So it's like this - there's a bad guy
and a good guy...
Jeremy uses his hands to hold the imaginary characters. His arms are spread wide. He shakes the right hand.
This guy here, the baddie, gets hurt, right...
He's in a coma.
Todd walks over, holding a finger to shush the already silent audience.
But wait! His brother's in jail and he's the
only one who knows the location of a bomb...
The two glance at each other, both grinning and nodding.
So, he's in a coma, right? And they have a
great idea! They slice off the baddie's face,
and put it on the good guy, and put the good
guy in jail, to pose as the baddie's brother,
to get the information!
Both men wait with wide smiles as the accolades don't come. Todd snaps out of it:
But wait, wait, there's a twist! The baddie wakes
up! He wakes up with no face! So... yeah! He
steals the good guy's face and walks around in it!
Nothing... The smiles are strained as they look to one another once, and back again. Jeremy looks to the floor, remembers something and his head snaps back up.
Oh yeah! We forgot the best bit! The title!
He turns to Todd, who winks and nodds to go on.
Well, their faces are off, right? And they go
head to head in a battle, right? So... we call it
Face Off... FACE OFF!!!
Face... (trails off)
How the fuck did that get made? Would the brother of the baddie and the wife of the good guy not notice the differences in their bodies? Their voices? Their lovemaking skills (not the brother for this one)? What about all the anti-rejection drugs they would have to take? I just cannot believe when I watched this I lapped it up like a big dummy!
Jerry Bruckheimer, wake up to yourself!!
Ok, rant over. Time to go crash the zamboni again, I mean resurface.
Piece! haha I kill me...