dogtired. my eyes are scratchy and it’s one of those 1.18am sitting up on the couch moments. a couple of glasses of wine and some marvelling at the pretty sights that rage is throwing up for general viewing. I think The Killers are turning out to be the Mardi Gras float they always wanted to be. Intriguing, the singer is costumed in a red bodysuit, part astronaut, part american footballer, part, well, he has a lot of feathers, enough to be interpreted as part amer-indian influence, rather than some general gaudery. Also, there’s plenty of other americal colonial references with cowboy hats etc in the video, but it’s all a bit too fashionably random to be anything like politically conscious or maybe, um like political analysis?
Yinka Shonibare does it so much better.
Tonight I came home in a downpour. I’ve been volunteering at the MCA for a week, for a Blast Theory gig called Rider Spoke. I realised today that pronunciation changes everything. io’ve been putting the emphasis on the first syllable, - Rider Spoke - but when I hear Ju say it - Rider Spoke - somehow it sounds a little more profound, a little more emphasis on this idea of the rider, and what they have to say. Rider spoke quiet stories between the streets, and the listener heard something between the stories, something unsaid, but covered up by something else.

Another profound thing is that Laika has found a mouse. Which is great, and entertaining for her, but rather inconvenient as it’s 2am and she’s barking. dear reader, I’ll leave you here, and try and calm the furrchild down, and shoo the mouse to relative safety.