Snakes - How Low Can You Go?

Well, I have had a truly fine weekend thusfar, contributing my vocals to a very exciting project of which I can't really say anything other than... Snakes! And. Planes! That is really all I can say, I am afraid. But it is very exciting.

Anyway, the world seems to have gone quite mad. Alex Jones, hated for being brash by some of my stuffier English friends, has been on CNN two nights in a row telling it straight about 911, which I really wasn't expecting to see this decade. And all it took for the floodgates to open was Charlie Sheen opening his mouth. Don't expect him to get much more acting work (before you snides sniff, he's currently starring in the State's biggest sitcom), but similarly, don't expect him to be the last.

On CNN, you'll notice a poll, asking "Do you agree with Charlie Sheen that the U.S. government covered up the real events of the 9/11 attacks?" Currently 83% - 31313 votes - say yes.

The times they are a very weird.

Last night I dreamed I was brainwashed into cutting my hair by a TV show. I spent about an hour hacking at it with blunt scissors, staring at the television. By the end my scalp was bleeding, and I had a sort of a David Bowie in The Man Who Fell To Earth thing. I was distraught, suddenly, I felt crushingly pedestrian, and cursed myself for being shallow, as blood dribbled down my face.

Then I woke up, in my dream, and dreamed I explained my dream to somebody, with no eyes, who was the most beautiful person I could think of. Light poured out of where her eyes might have been.

Then we were in a field, overlooking a great plain, and a forest, and above us the sky boiled and split into two. Half black churned and spat with static, and the other curled and arched and shaped itself into a sort of a 3-D space craft, that looked like one of those gummy-rings, as rendered in a technical drawing by a late eighties computer, the bright, unrealistic colours of the palette in Photoshop. It hung in the air, and arched away in an instant. I was told it would return, with "50,000", and below us wolves and other, unidentifiable, great hairy beats fled the forest, and teemed across the plains, howling.

I knew the "50,000" meant death, of some kind. It was funny, because i knew that 50,000 wasn't a great many, relatively. But I was terrified.

I don't recall what happened after that, but I didn't like it, because I was curled up and shivering and wet when I woke up, and I wasn't at all sure that I had.