I swear I didn't fall asleep with the radio on

alcippe thinks I have interesting dreams, so I feel a certain burden now to prove otherwise. Here's what I remember from last night:

I was in a club. A DJ (who I know in real life) was going to perform, but it was still early. So I looked up a song I like and played it over the speaker system. Then I looked up another song. I figured there was probably some way to make a playlist, but I was too lazy to figure it out. I started asking people who were with me (like my sister) for suggestions, but they were also picking song from our youth and I was worried the mix was too dated. Then things started to go wrong. I tried to find a certain Camper Van Beethoven song but couldn't type their name correctly. I wanted to play a song called "Louder" by a newer band (LCD Soundsystem?) and couldn't even type that correctly. As I fumbled with the device, ads started playing instead and I started to feel like a fool. It kept morphing until it had the form of my old boom box from the early 80s and then I couldn't find it at all and started abusing monshu and my older brother for hiding it from me. I woke up filled with anxiety.

I'm not sure where I was at first, but I was sitting with my family. A song started playing and I told them it was "My Girls" by Animal Collective, but I started having doubts. I definitely had the song wrong and begin to wonder if I had the band wrong as well. At this point, we were definitely in the outdoor seating area of a cafe since I saw someone walking toward us with dark clothing and a heavily asymmetrical hairstyle. I realised it was one of the band's two lead singers, and that he was miked. "They're doing a live version," I informed them. He looked fatter than I remembered and his voice was reedier. He turned at the corner and we followed him with our eyes through the plate glass. Then he turned back and was joined by the other singer, who had a lower voice and resembled Kevin Smith. They stood there together and serenaded us.

Then at last we came to the call-and-response chorus and they tried to get people to sing back, but no one wanted to. Finally one guy did, purposely singing the first words badly and then nailing the ending cadence. The guy holding the mic, who now had the appearance of a skinny fratboy type (think young Matthew McConaghy) said, "Yeah, the hard part isn't the singing it's that it's kinda fag." I yelled out "Not cool!" and we got into a debate about the appropriateness of making a remark like that at a public gathering.

Groundwork

I didn't even have to visit the black piles of snit to know that they aren't there any more. It's plausible a few could've made it through Sunday, but not after two days with a high temperature of 17°C. At lunchtime it threatened rain so I eat indoors, but it was clear again by evening so I took my first constitutional in weeks.

There still isn't too much popping up yet, just a few daffodils (which were burned badly in the last false spring) and some early tulips and irises. I saw a couple aconite near work, but they're not out in their profusion yet, and not squill at all. Buds are swelling on the trees, though, particularly the rhodie in the backyard.

I think I might need to set some time aside this weekend to prepare the ground on the hellstrip because I can't recall when my trees are arriving. I think I ordered them for the first week of April, but there's not actually anything in my receipt which tells me. I've got plenty of fallen wood for the nurse log and it would probably be a good idea to empty out the composter by at least half given that it's been filled to the rim all winter.