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Sweet Dreams are Made of This

Strange dream last night. It was about some CD albums I own, but their titles seemed to be slightly ‘wrong,’ making me paranoid about them—like I thought I’d bought the wrong versions or something. Really silly, pointless stuff. When I woke up, I almost went to check the titles on the things, but I quickly got a reality check. I don’t really enjoy dreams like that. They’re not particularly symbolic or creative… just confusing.
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Karaoke Queen

I got asked to a pub last night where there was some karaoke going on. I don’t have a single clue why I bothered, because the mere concept is depressing—this is the kind of hopeless naffness you get sucked into when you don’t have a life. And sure enough, a parade of ageing and not-so-ageing exhibitionists mounted the stage and murdered a stream of 30-year-old songs that were crap to begin with.
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