She knows that it'd be tragic if those evil robots win

I've been listening to The Flaming Lips a ton recently. And by that I mean Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots which I distinctly remember looking up because the name was so promising. Them and Cibo Matto because nonsense and strange noises work so well with a sunny day. I jumped off the bus three stops early and doubled back in the sunshine to walk down old haunts. I forgot how many people I knew lived up there. I hesitated on the edge of one street. It branches left and right with different names, each one is a dead end. One end was our den, the other was where the other Jennifer lived, the little tomboy sister of Christopher number two. Violent little angel. But my Jennifer doesn't live there anymore in her haunted house I half-lived in myself and can remember a ridiculous amount about. I've been feeling far too nostalgic lately but I've been watching too many old films with too many old film starlets that she wanted to be so you know. Association.

I had a long thought but when I tried to write it down I got as far as Ceilings bother me. I had this intense sensation of drowning.

I watched The Blue Dahlia last night. In bursts though as I kept getting interrupted. It was written by Raymond Chandler and starred Veronica Lake, whose picture we have on our kitchen wall, so I thought oo it'll be good. First watch I'm thinking not so much but mostly because I guessed the ending more or less and the dialogue seemed awful slow. Maybe he was just better at novels than scripts. I'm watching Silence of the Lambs because I've never seen it all the way through and then I'm back to noirs with House of Bamboo. And North by Northwest which I've been meaning to see for years. I do love Cary Grant, he makes me smile.

I remembered something a friend of mine told me. She marks her calendar to keep track of her drunkenness. Smiley faces for good nights out, Ooops! for mistakes. I just couldn't imagine writing oops next to a date. I do squiggles if there's things I need to keep track of but paired with what sort of mistakes she's recording I don't think ooops! covers it.

I shall end on people since I've done quite well in talking to strangers. There's the french girl who I talked to about the rain until her phone went off. She was this blonde little thing, with white cigarettes and a zippo lighter that looked so out of place in her hand and she held up the phone through all that hair and crouched down to the ground. Like a doll with a living face. There was the girl in the toilets who I caught dancing in front of the mirror and the other girl in the other toilets whose dress I complimented trying to keep a straight face and I won a subconscious wiggle of the swishy skirt. And lastly there was the little girl with a blue hair net pulled over her face chasing her brother round and round roaring. Yes, I admitted when she asked. She did look really scary.