PSA: writing tracklistings on CD-Rs is A Bad Move.
harpy: *tries to take hot hot heat CD out of discman and replace with Mission of Burma*
HHH CD: look! I have 'aveda' on me! Don't you want to listen to it again, over and over, until you're sick of it?
harpy: ...
HHH CD: *smug*
harpy: ...I hate you.

Selectadisc sort ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead under 't'. Mock!
In Soho Square this afternoon, a male pigeon with his feathers fluffed up to make him appear bigger than he really was chased a svelte female pigeon around in circles. They bobbed slightly out of time with one another, absurd and speedy like a Krazy Kops reel, real-time movement played at 45 rpm.

Tried to sort out my thoughts on the way writers consistently insist on a crowd subsuming individual identity into the mass body - Bakhtin quotes Goethe on this (a speculation over the emotions of people in the Verona ampitheatre), Hornby says it's one of the reasons why football is the best spectator sport ever, it's a common idea - and yet I've never had a mass experience like that. I've never sat or stood or walked in a huge group of people and not been acutely conscious of being myself among a a crowd. At the march, we slowed down or speeded up depending on who we were next to or behind - people with loud whistles or inane non-rhyming chants, the banners of groups we didn't approve of - and that's just what you do. We couldn't be expected to walk alongside the students proclaiming "drop fees not bombs" when that's such a self-serving slogan, contrary to my idea of what the march was about (an expression of disapproval at the Government's actions in going to war) and highly embarrasing to A, whose old uni they were from. There was cameraderie there, certainly, a distant fondness for the excited teenage revolutionaries and the sober adult liberals - but there was no consensus, not of thought nor emotion.

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And all I could really think was 'ewww, pigeon sex!'