tilly_stratford: (Cat: relaxed)
I dreamed I watched the sequel to X-Men First Class. It was very good. The first part was very clever and intellectual while the second half had great action (and for some reason Superman references. Keep your comicverses apart, subconcious!).

We shall see if my prophetic skills are up to scratch. If it is, I'm particularly looking forward to rewatching the part where James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender started making out. (What a lovely little brain I have. What do lovely little brains get? That's right, they get chocolate treats!)

All this reminds me I'm absolutely going to watch Captain America sometime in the near future - sadly it doesn't open until Friday at the local cinema. But I've heard good things so far, and Dum Dum Duggan's in it, so I bet I'll get my money's worth.

And finally, unrelated: There's a brilliant challenge going around Tumblr these days, which asks you to draw your favourite character in the outfit you're wearing at the moment. Seeing as at this exact moment my favourite character is Jigen Daisuke, and I'm wearing my favourite shirt*, this kept me entertained for some time.

Fedora and revolver not part of my actual ensemble, obviously )

*The legendary Shirt of Indeterminable Colour. Is it blue? Is it purple? Nobody knows!
tilly_stratford: (Darkwing: not convinced)
Justice League International should come with a disclaimer: "WARNING: You will dream about Guy Gardner every single night* and should it happen that Gardner is your least favourite League member this will make you wake up all annoyed going 'Augh STOP IT WITH THE GUY GARDNER STUFF ALREADY'."

Completely unrelated: Are other people as assailed by spam comments on old lj entries as I am? There are new Russian and broken English comments advertising porn and jeans and handbags every day, and most of them are posted to an ancient entry I wrote about A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, of all things. I've spent two weeks dutifully deleting and reporting but no go - today I disabled commenting on that particular entry because it's getting ridiculous.

*Except last night when Superman and I were the only two people left on earth after the nuclear devastation, which I had narrowly avoided because I was held captive underground by the Mole People at the time. I'm starting to think I might unconsciously use Superman as some sort of personification of Safety in my nightmares. Or it might be that I recently watched the two first Donner movies and Linkara's review of Superman: Distant Fires.
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
So I frequently dream in black and white, but this is the first time I've dreamed in somebody's art style.

Too bad it had to be Frank Miller's.

And not Sin City Frank Miller either, that at least would be something, but no, it was that sort of Daredevil, The Dark Knight Returns kind of Frank Miller, with the lumpy bodies and scratchy lines and angular capes.

There was something terribly eighties about the thing.

So I was going to some sort of costume party with a superhero theme, but to mix it up your superhero was randomly selected for you, and I wound up with some girl superhero I had never heard of which was discontinued decades ago - I remember the costume: Balaclava, big black silk shirt with these big gaudy purple roses on them, arms cut off, acid wash jeans and those huge eighties' glasses. Also my weapon of choice was apparently that kind of sea-shell belt that was all the rage in the nineties.

So I'm dressed up like that, and I'm separated from the rest of the party when I come across a busload of real superheros, who mistake me for the real thing and bring me along on their bus tour (the kind of "let's go to the seaside" guided bus tour), only the bus is full and I have to sit on Superman's lap. Which was nice. In that kind of "I feel all safe now" way, not in the "hurr I'm sitting on Superman's red undies" way. (Why was Superman taking the bus?)

The only other superhero I recognized was of all things Siryn from X-Men (What! Mixing Marvel and DC characters!) and at that point regular fangirl me kicked in and and I started looking for her former teammate Cannonball because this was my dream damnit and that had to mean he'd be drawn by Patrick Zircher and ohmigawd Cannonball's kinda cute when he's drawn by Zircher.

Alas my alarm rang before I could find him. Or go frolicking in the sea (we were quite possibly going to Scarborough when I think about it) with my new superhero friends.
tilly_stratford: (Holmes: Curious collection)
- Cried my eyes out clutching my trusted teddy bear Teddy while watching Toy Story 3. Bastards. How dare they make a good sequel to a movie that came out when I was seven.

- Decided on a whim to finally see The Incredible Hulk. The movie held little sway over me UNTIL TONY STARK WALKED INTO THE BAR OMG DID YOU SEE THAT. SUDDENLY MOVIE CROSSOVERS MAKES ME REALLY EXCITED. Puzzling. My excitement seemed to have little to do with "Robert Downey Jr. is pretty to look at" because Tony went "We're putting a team together" and General Asshole went "Who?" and Tony looked at him all "bitch please" and I went "THE AVENGERS OMG THE AVENGERS MOVIE CAN IT BE 2012 NOOOOW PLEASE YAY AVENGERS."

I just. I don't even. I already know they're making an Avengers movie. I'm not even particularly invested in the Avengers apart from having read some twenty issues from the original run. But there I am freaking out like a five-yearold on psychostimulants. Time to wind down I think.


I swear I'm not going to make this into my dream journal but my subconcious is clearly smoking some good shit these days. I dreamed I watched a black and white movie adaption of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland from the early sixties. William Shatner was in it (if I ever confessed how many weird dreams I have that features the Shat I would die of embarassment) and he played... The Mock Turtle. Wearing a traffic cone on his head. He did a heartbreaking rendition of The Mock Turtle's Song in true Shatnerian style while playing listlessly on a Hammond organ.

Yeah you wish you had as awesome dreams as me.
tilly_stratford: (Constantine: Sly smoke)
So I dreamed I'd been hired to design and build a new suit of armor for Iron Man 3 (or possible the Avengers movie, my dream was a little vague on that point). Total reimagining. I used influences from mid-nineteenth century dinner wear (only, you know, metal) and kabuki masks - and also these completely awesome details on the arms I was insanely proud of but which I can't for the life of me remember what were.

I called the suit 'Suava Tilde Mark Three' and pestered the scriptwriters until they used the name in the movie, just so I could hear Robert Downey Jr. say my name (which is Tilde, not Suava. I don't even know what sort of word that is). Obviously I thought this was an INGENIOUS PLAN. But when opening night came it turned out he said it in that inelegant American way with the heavy L ("Tillduhh") and I realized my plan perhaps wasn't that ingenious after all.

Even so I thought to myself "Man when I get to a computer I'm SO going to blog about this!". So here you go, dream Tilly. I blogged about it.


Apr. 12th, 2010 10:28 am
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
It's been a while since I had a full night's sleep, but thankfully I've been able to nod off for a few hours every night. Which in turn means weird dreams!

A choice selection of last night's adventures:

1) The Onedin Line reimagined as a juvenile sex comedy. The number of dreams I've had had about this show since I stopped watching it is... perplexing.

2) Being at a mall in York I remember from my last visit years ago, overhearing two older men in conversation about syphilis. I remember certain comments verbatim too, including; "...And so I get to keep my little mystery. You know, you're the kind of guy who really knows how to take the spontinaity out of a fella. Lucky for you I won the internet."

3) Partaking in a gigantic eating orgy of sea food. My God, the cracking of shells and munching on meat and slurping of goo and licking my fingers for the last drop of juice...

This dream creeped my out the most because, one, I really really really don't like sea food (and don't I get to hear it, living on the Norwegian coast). And two, I just know this dream popped up because I read the ultimate William Shatner interview on GQ last night ("The jelly!"). HE'S IN MY HEAD GET HIM OUT GET HIM OUT.
tilly_stratford: (Deadpool day)
Last night I dreamed I was Deapool.

Which was pretty awesome until I had to cut somebody's corrotic artery with a small action figure. And then help a golden retriever give birth.

All par for the course in a Deadpool dream.

I bet it's my subconcious experiencing a withdrawal after I finished Cable & Deadpool (with the smallest of sniffles at the end there). Where do you even go for more Deadpool goodness? I'm not keen on the new ongoing series (cleverly named Deadpool) based on what I've seen on Scans Daily... Hm. More research is in order.

In other news... GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS TOMORROW GUYS (keeping in mind Norwegians do all our celebrating and gift-unwrapping on the 24th). EEE.
tilly_stratford: (Fred and Cyd: Don't mind you watching)
Goodness how I love my subconcious.

You know how good dreams always seem be over in the blink of an eye, and you're frustrated when you wake up?

Well I've been hanging with Dean Martin all night. I remember looking at the clock and thinking "Jesus I have to stop drinking soon, this is a school night!" but then I woke up rested and all OHHH YEAH.

Don't pretend you don't envy me my awesome dreams.

And tonight's the Dan Fägerquist concert! You remember; that Swedish dude who interprets Vystotsky's music. This time I'll try not to write a gigantic entry afterwards about how I finally for once can see the truth and beauty of life and et cetera. But I can't promise anything.
tilly_stratford: (I say! Wooster)
Samler på flasker, nok ei gate står for tur
De samme gatene de gjekk i som små

Of course, my watching thus far has been limited to some thirty episodes of The Next Generation, and other than that I have some rudimentary knowledge of the main cast of characters in the original series. Oh and I know what Pon Farr is for some reason (which worries me a bit).

I also know everybody and their grandmother have posted their reactions to the new movie so I can hardly bring anything new to the table here.

That being said... I really enjoyed that. For two hours I was immensly entertained and, yeah, I really enjoyed that. I caught myself just sitting there grinning from ear to ear at several points in the movie because it was just so fun and exciting (come on, that first time they hit warp speed? That was SO COOL).

Pew pew in space, no spoilers )

And then it turned out that filling a day with Star Trek, Deadpool and Kaizers Orchestra lead to some very very odd dreams.

Sir, have you gone mad? )
tilly_stratford: (Curious collection Holmes)
Angel eyes, I really love you so
Angel eyes, I'll never let you go
Because I love you, my darling angel eyes

So I tried my hand at my first drawing meme.

"But Tilly," I hear you say. "You're not much of an artist?"

And sure, yep, I agree, but I had fun with it and got to draw a bulldog, so whatever.

Sherlock Holmes drawing meme. Big. )

Oh yeah, and the empty meme can be found here.

So, had another weird dream last night. I was stuck in a tent with Professor Moriarty during a snow storm. And before you ask, no it wasn't a sexy dream you sickos. I had a headache and he wouldn't shut up about fractions. But then he quoted Tom Lehrer songs so it was alright.
tilly_stratford: (LS Please run)
There's snow. You know, on the ground. At home in the eastern Norway it would be odd without it at this time of year, but here it took me by surprise. It simply started snowing this morning and just kept going, by the time I'd finished my constitutional I was covered in it.

That's another thing, I'm taking strolls in bad weather now. I'm shocked by how quickly I actually got addicted to something so... basic. I'd rather be chilled and soaked to the bone than miss my daily stroll, that's a pretty odd concept to me.

In other news, I had an odd/cool dream last night. I dreamt I discovered a romantic comedy from the late thirties, starring Leslie Howard (thank you subconcious) and Olivia de Havilland in the leads, with Clark Gable and, erratically, Clint Eastwood. I remember thinking as I was watching it in my dream, "Man, I gotta blog about this later, this movie is amazing." What I can remember of the plot )

Now I'm sort of bummed out that the movie doesn't exist.

And finally, Sherlock Holmes )
tilly_stratford: (Curious collection)
Yes I believe but I'd rather not pray
What I believe in I'd rather not say baby
Did your God show you the door
Well I'm here to eat your apple to the core

My arms. Have. Fallen off. I have walked back and forth across the town picking up big parcels at the post office with things I couldn't get on the train, my Christmas toys mostly. And with a new laptop I can finally play Neverwinter Nights: Shadows of the Undrentide. Half-elven fighter, baby. I'm limiting myself to one hour per day.

Funny I should speak of arm loss, really. I had a really bad nightmare last night, the sort you wake up from with a jolt. A gigantic alligator ripped off my arm. Sure, that was bad in itself, but the worst thing was that no one cared, I was forced to tend to my empty arm socket spurting blood all by myself.

Don't you dare try to psychoanalyze me. I've got a weird phobia of sea monsters, that's all there is to it.

Anyway, voice post meme time!

This is what procrastination sounds like )

Yes - Sherlock Holmes, Gene Kelly's bum and Daryl Hannah, all in one pointless sound file. This is is indeed your lucky day.

Come on, flist, I want to hear your lovely voices!
tilly_stratford: (Default)
Ah, Skype is a wonderful thing, [livejournal.com profile] tiny_cs and I've been chatting for hours and watching Top Gear together.

Also, I had a very odd dream last night.

Going shopping with Mr. Sherlock Holmes )

I don't normally post dreams without narrative coherence, but the feeling of being two people in one sort of stayed with me.

And ooh, today I finally got to read what might be the first ever Sherlock Holmes send-up, written as a gift to Conan Doyle from his friend James M. Barry (yes, the one that wrote Peter Pan): The Adventure of Two Collaberators. It's adorable. "Again I sprang to the ceiling (which is much dented), and shouted, 'Amazing!'".

And that's all I've got today, really. To fill out the entry, here's a vintage poster that never fails to crack me up:

Mister Hat Man is just so cheerfully ignorant, poor fool.
tilly_stratford: (Cello in the rain)
Jag är inte redd för döden
Men ett liv är för kort
Mitt i solnedgångsglöden
Flyr hjorterna bort

I'm working on the first draft of my Text and Culture exam, on hermeneutics. I'm trying to squeeze in as much Vysotsky as possible. Initially I picked up Ulvejakten, a book on Vysotsky by Jørn Simen Øverli, at the library just because I needed a Norwegian translation of Охота на волков (because I still don't understand Russian), but it's such fascinating reading I think I'll have to hold on to it for a while.

And I'm reading some secondary sources on wolves in mythology. It's fascinating what a distinction there is between wolf myths in Northern versus Southern Europe. The Mongols believed Ghengis Khan was the son a of he-wolf and a deer, and regarded the wolf as a noble creature. In Norse mythology we have Fenrir, of course, and his two sons (one chases the sun across the sky, the other the moon), all savage and dangerous. But Odin kept the wolves Geri and Freki as pets, you know, so they aren't just regarded as evil beasts.

Ah, I want to get through with these petty exams and start reading History, damnit.

I had an odd dream last night. Not much narrative sense, but some striking moments. I remember it was snowing cotton, and me and some pale, pale girls started carefully lining telephone wires with it, in mourning of James Dean. When dusk fell you could see the striking white chords wound their ways along the road, into the darkness.

And no, I don't suppose this entry serves any function other than emptying my mind after that first draft.
tilly_stratford: (Time war)
You know the saying that all who love are blind
It seems that ancient adage still applies
I guess I should have seen right through you
But the moon got in my eyes

Do you miss the days when you could go into the children's section at the library, gently pull another Where's Waldo? from the bookcase and spend hours looking for a stripy weirdo with glasses?

Well, now you can do it alt-rock style! Just watch Radio P3's recording of the Kaizers Orchestra concert at Øya for free and play a game of Where's Tilly? through fifteen delightful songs.

Your target:

Weirdo with glasses, bleached hair and stripy blue sweater. Extra points are awarded for spotting the weirdo with glasses and purple hair (HINT: Purple-haired weirdo is often found in close proximity to stripy weirdo.) Both feature extensively throughout the concert.

Man, what a day that was.

I have now lived in Bergen a week and some, what do I miss? I mean, excluding the fact that everybody I hold dear are many many miles away. I miss The daily show. You don't know you've got an addiction until you're forced to live without. I actually had a TV-watching dream last night. All reruns. Thank God for the excellent official website, says I.

I generally have some pretty colourful dreams these days. The other night I dreamt I was the Master (and I looked absolutely stunning in a Nehru jacket, thankyouverymuch), and I'd made a machine that sucked the colour out of everything (because I think black-and-white is much more estetically pleasing, I suppose), but to my frustration it had somehow made both spies in my Spy vs Spy comics white. That makes it the lamest nightmare ever, I think, since I've always rooted for Black Spy.

The whale

Jul. 9th, 2008 10:51 am
tilly_stratford: (LS Please run)
Well the morning was complete
There was tears on the steering wheel dripping on the seat
Several hours or several weeks
I'd have the cheek to say they're equally as bleak

If you'd told me a year ago that I'd feel like I'd won the damn lottery because I finally found some colour footage of an actor I liked, I'd thought you'd gone soft in the head.

A clip from a GWTW documentary including one minute of make up, hair dye and costume testing on Leslie Howard, 30 seconds of which you can see his natural hair, hurrah.

Anyway. Do you know who plays the valet in It's love I'm after? None other than Eric Blore! If that isn't a sign, I don't know what is.

Now if only it hadn't been in the public domain I might even had a chance of finding it. No copies on eBay and the one seller on iOffer doesn't ship outside the US. Doesn't Warner or Criterion realize there's money to be made here?

Also: I have the strangest nighmares.

Vincent, the maneating whale )
tilly_stratford: (Jamie/Doctor - true wuv)
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
A gift-wrapped wig still in the box
Of towering velveteen

I finally watched Hedwig and the angry inch the other night. While this had some awkward side effects, like absentmindedly singing Angry inch at work ("Six inches forward and five inches back!" - yeah, I'd back away too) and bizarre dreams (I was a transgendered android and saved the Starfleet with holographic poodles and Picard went to bed with Xander from Buffy... Brainbleach plz).

But whoa, what a lovely movie. Wig in a box might be the sweetest pick-me-up song I've ever heard. And John Cameron Mitchell makes such an infuriatingly cute woman sometimes. Where do they learn to walk on high heels? Is there a course? Can I join?

So yeah, I'm twenty-one today. Jesus. Do I have to behave like an adult now?

We celebrated yesterday at my mum's and had a lovely time. We had towers of juicy fruit and delicious cake. Oh, and I got loads and loads of nice presents.

A pictorial guide of some of the gifts, made on one of the gifts )

Well, it's Sunday and my birthday, so I'm giving myself a little break from the studying. Now, shall take my twenty-one yearold self and devour the watermelon or go for a walk?
tilly_stratford: (I say! Wooster)
So I was walking down the great Karl Johan street, absentminded (as always), when I was stopped by a police woman. I looked up, and this is pretty much what I saw:

A horde of nazis marched down the street, completely silent save a steady drumbeat. The Parliament building was sporting a swastica and a banner declaring "Deutchsland siegt an allen Fronten".

Only it wasn't 1940. A pretty surreal morning. All the times I've seen the pictures, watched the juddery black-and-white footage, and then, on a Tuesday morning in search of a Kim Newman book (which was a futile task. I can't find a single proof there has ever existed such a thing in Norway), it's before me in living colour. So familiar and yet so alien.

So yes, the movie about Max Manus, saboteur and national hero, is being made. Aksel Hennie walked by in period costume. The German army patiently waited, propped up on their rifles, for the next shot to be ready.

After the initial surprise had subsided, I was so thrilled we actually do things like this in tiny Norway. Block off the main shopping street, fill it with horse-drawn carriages and some lovely-looking motorcycles, even replacing all the signs and window-dressing with with more time-appropriate things.

So, in not-so-historical news, yesterday's ratbathing made me realize something: Domino has changed colour. Not over the course of a day, but so gradual I haven't noticed it.

Look at this picture from the day I bought him, back in September, and compare that to the one I snapped yesterday. That's not a trick of the light. Domino has gone almost entirely white over the course of the seven last months. How odd I haven't noticed that.

And in the freaky dream department (you've all been waiting with bated breath, I can tell): Last night I seemed to be doing my written Bio exam, only it was hard to consentrate because we we're all shoved together and the person to my right was a Parasaurolophus, which used to be my favourite dinosaur as a child (shut up, girls can have a dinosaur phase too). He kept trying to copy my notes. On my left hand, though, was Stephen Fry, and I was trying my best not to give in to temptation and copy his notes.

Yeah. I can only guess Stephen Fry has become my subconcious embodiment of knowledge or somesuch, since he pops up in all my school-related dreams.
tilly_stratford: (Jon sporfle)
Despair up to the point when they provoke
You to tell the fucking punchline before you have told the joke
But sorry sunshine it doesn't exist
It wasn't in the top one hundred list

Owowowww my back! I've been cleaning my room, places I haven't cleaned before. Good news: I've finally changed the Christmas tablecloth on my desk and done the window (not very good. I've learned it from a book. I'll need to ask mum to teach me). Bad news: It was at the expense of my body. Ow.

I've downloaded two things that keep seems to be eating all my time (not that I mind):
- Season one of Jeeves and Wooster - even though farce isn't my kind of humour. I mean, there's farce in the books too, but that isn't as important to me as the language and the... well, Wodehouse. It still makes me giggle though. And when I don't find it funny I can ogle the costumes. Hugh Laurie had an excellent skinny frame for three-piece suites. And there's the jazz playing! Excellent strong point.

- Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines. It's getting a bit old (what, four years?), the fighting bits are horribly executed (BUTTON MASHING), it lags like hell and got more bugs than I can be bothered to count, but I'm growing to love it. Not only do I get to be a badass vampire (though I opted for a wimpy Toreador because I liked their mindset), but there's so much mischief you can get up to when you're not on a quest. Like hacking the personell files on the hospital computer and finding the personell file on a Robert only reads, "No one can succeed like doctor Robert". LOVE.

Gosh, I'm having these crazy dreams of late. A bit of a late-night session of Jeeves and Wooster and QI resulted in a dream where I was back at my old primary school, and had a teacher who might very well have been Stephen Fry. He kept telling me these extraordinary bits of fact, I wish I could remember some of them. Either to see what sort of bizarre "facts" my mind can come up with mid-sleep, or, even creepier, find they were all true and that my subconcious has this sort of factoid reservoar.

But that was nothing to last night, when I dreamed Sylvester McCoy got annoyed with me (yeah, I don't know) and locked me in a room with the ugliest wood paneling you ever saw, but I found I could remove one of the panels and suddenly I was Alice in some kind of steampunk wonderland. But when I got to the bit with the Cheshire Cat it was my rat Brownie, and I wandered about a bit with him on my shoulder, until I met a wizard who turned him into a toothbrush ("I'm really a benevolent wizard, you see," he kept telling me. "I just really can't stand rats."). But then it turned out the toothbrush was evil (it even said so on the package: "EVIL TOOTHBRUSH") and we had to battle it.

Yeah, I don't know.

Time for dinner, I think, and then some Bloodlines.
tilly_stratford: (The Doctor would like his tea now)
Water. Water.

Blast that water!

If you haven't heard the news, Oslo's tap water contains parasites. May be bad, may not be bad, we don't know. In the meantime we're not to be be drinking it, cooking with it or brushing our teeth with it. Well, I at least still brush my teeth with it. I figured I swallow worse things when I go swimming, so I refuse to go hysterical over this quite yet. In the meantime I boil it, and the rats drink bottled water to be on the safe side.

I remember less than a month ago I read in the newspaper about how Norwegian tap water is some of the greatest, purest drinking water in the world. What happened?

Anyway, I have my juice.

You know, my dreams have become very singular recently. I guess it has something to do with me being single again. Every night I dream I'm in perfect relationships (though gender seems to be a bit varying for all concerned), oh, and we fight crime. So at least there's some asskicking involved, and not all lovey-dovey.

Ooh, lookie: The official Bing Crosby website is all redesigned and musicy. And with a video clip of him singing June in January with himself. Awesome. God, was that man good-looking. Mmm.

I've been watching Queer as folk, American version. I didn't know better, and the cover had a better design. Gorgeous guys but holy wooden plank acting, Batman! And what a universe, where every attractive man is gay, and a slut to boot. Pretty men, Tilly, focus on the pretty men.

Talking about juice, I'll go get some now.


tilly_stratford: (Default)

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