I had the strangest dream last night.

We had to leave the colony because of the monster. Why were we living in a 'colony'? Why did we not want to leave it? I have no clue. Just go with me here. It was very M. Night Shyamalan. So, we had to leave the colony and I was a man. Again, don't ask. And we had to make a large statue in honor of the monster who looked strangely like Jesus. Of course, I use the word 'monster' very loosely - he made us leave our homes and he was mean. I'm sure he was a nice chap deep down inside. So anyway, there was this man who was working on the statue and the monster pushed him off the ledge and he fell and cracked his skull and died and I was s'posed to take his place and there was this woman who was holding on to me and wouldn't let go (because she loved me, you see) and so I was debating whether or not to throw her off the ledge because if I didn't get her to let go of me I would either fall or the monster would push me down because he didn't like to be kept waiting and there was this very unnerving feeling that a deadline was looming.

Wonder wot it all means. I think it means I should stop watching Shyamalan movies. Although, I did see the interviews DVD at Blockbuster the other day. I remember all the hoopla it had caused when it first came out and frankly I don't see the point.

It's raining ducks. Who don't look very happy. Just floating about in the rain with their beaks tucked under. Aww. I should relieve them from their misery and bring them inside. Into the kitchen. Into the oven in the kitchen. With a side of rice and gravy. Mmm.

The NYU app is 'with committee'. I hate pacing outside a closed door waiting for the verdict. I've burned 6 pieces of toast. Resh says rub your hands together in glee. I say, no thank you. I'll create fire. That was my best app. I gave it all my efforts. Getting in to NYU will take the sting out of not getting into Kellogg. There is no life if there is no NYU. I may as well sit out a year. Pray I get into NYU. I simply MUST get into NYU.

My folks are now hyperventilating over the fact that I'm going to be staying with 'boys' on my trip to London. On which I am going all by myself. Because, you know, I'm a degenerate retard who, given the first opportunity, will start peddling drugs (or worse) on the streets of London.

Have you seen the old man
In the closed-down market
Kicking up the paper,
with his worn out shoes?
In his eyes you see no pride
And held loosely at his side
Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news

So how can you tell me you're lonely,
And say for you that the sun don't shine?
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

Have you seen the old girl
Who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking,
She just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home in two carrier bags.

In the all night cafe
At a quarter past eleven,
Same old man is sitting there on his own
Looking at the world
Over the rim of his tea-cup,
Each tea last an hour
Then he wanders home alone

And have you seen the old man
Outside the seaman's mission
Memory fading with
The medal ribbons that he wears.
In our winter city,
The rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero
And a world that doesn't care

-- Ralph McTell

I'm going to go watch Fight Club now.