Imaginary time capsule

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!

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.

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.

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.

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? )

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 )

Ah, Skype is a wonderful thing, 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.

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.

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?

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.