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Yanni

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About Yanni

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    Dare to dream

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  1. I'm in Toronto airport; my flight leaves in about five and a half hours. I'm presently sitting on the floor at a busy hallway. I was previously at a quieter location, but was kicked out as security for a flight to Tel Aviv was being prepared. I've noticed that Indian and Israeli flights appear to have extra measures taken at the gate.
  2. Well I didn't really care for that album, so.
  3. I like a few songs from Ray of Light, especially the title track, but yeah I think that had more to do with William Orbit than anything else.
  4. I never got the fuss. I think it's just one of those things where someone goes "oh hey, that song's kind of catchy" with regards to some overplayed pop song, they see some curious things about her image and read into it a sort of artistic integrity (see the long thread posted here a while back about someone reportedly having their mind blown), and then suddenly she's a genius. I feel the same way about Madonna.
  5. I'm somewhat contrary in feeling A-Z to be something of a pinnacle of post-punk that the great early Wire albums were sort of gradually leading up to.
  6. Nope! Thanks for that. Always good to hear some classic Flipper.
  7. I've been really into them for well over a year now.
  8. Another AtEase list: If you want to contribute to the poll you can do so here.
  9. MTers in my top 100 compatibility list: 19. karlhalliday 50. paperhouse (Ryan) 51. _deBaser_ 55. hashes Having a similar rating scale may have as much to do with it as anything else, and rating a lot of the same albums I've rated also matters.
  10. Yanni

    FUTBOL/SOCCOR

    Yeah, Kemp got to this before I did, but this is very wrong. Plenty of French and Argentine people would be pretty insulted - their rugby teams have even been doing a bit better than their football teams, as of late.
  11. For what it's worth, I had no idea who you were. I once made a name and behaved a little differently (but as a new poster, unlike my gimmick aliases) just as a little experiment, but I was called out by Cindy after something like two posts.
  12. My sleep patterns have been rubbish recently - I've just about managed to go to sleep at the right hours, but still end up waking up in the middle of the night after 3-4 hours and then not really being able to sleep until around noon. I've resorted to "power naps" in the middle of the day, where I keep my clothes on and hope I don't sleep for too long. At around 12:45, I slept for about an hour and a quarter. In my dream, I'm a graduate student in Amsterdam in an alternative reality where everyone can, over short distances, communicate via telepathy. If you allow a certain measure of closeness to another person you can "read" a person's W-thoughts. The thoughts are read as both a coherent (and perfectly unambiguous) message, and a feeling to go along with the message. Your private thoughts, or R-thoughts, which you don't consciously relay to another individual, are not read. At the same time I'm thinking on two levels, each one corresponding to a separate person. The first level is the me who exists in this alternative reality, the second level is the me who exists here and now, outside of the dream. Let us refer to the former, typically in the third-person, as "object-me", and the latter, typically in the first-person, as "meta-me". The object-me (he) lives and works in this world, while the meta-me (I) merely quietly observes the differences to the real world, without doing enough to break out of the dream. Anyway, object-me is staying in an apartment with my father and his second wife, having arrived in Amsterdam the day before - this arrangement is not a real-life one. This is, also, merely a temporary arrangement. The next semester is about to start and he knows he should be working hard, but at the moment he's stuck playing NES games on an emulator. Anyway, object-me wakes up late in the morning and notices that his father and second wife are both out; he eats breakfast and digs out the toothbrush and toothpaste that he had packed into a special bag along with other toiletries. The sink is a mess, but worse, so is the toothpaste; the toothpaste bottle had been mysteriously sliced along the top, causing most of its contents to splurge out in transit. He squeezes out the toothpaste and brushes his teeth, enjoying the cool feeling of the toothpaste against his gums. He realises that this is his favourite toothpaste, but tragically, he has just squeezed out the last of it for himself. In college, he comes out of a conference lecture that I fail to recall, and subsequently chats with fellow students (telepathically) to find that most are in a pleasant humour, albeit rather aloof. I notice that some of these people do not appear to be the students I knew in real-life, but based on their telepathic communications with me, I figure out that each person I am speaking to has a real-life counterpart and I can in each case determine who this counterpart is. This may be the point in the dream where I realise that I am dreaming. So anyway, he soon gets a bit weary of the other students, and decides to just go to the common room which is a couple of floors up. On approaching the elevator, though, he notices that one of the other students looks to be in a bad humour. He asks her what's wrong, and abruptly gets a terrible feeling from her and a message that she is not having the best time at the moment. He crosses his arms, touches her arms with both of his elbows and sends comforting messages. The moment of tranquility is interrupted by a stop/start motion of the elevator, which many of the students are subsequently alerted to. There is a student stuck inside of the elevator who is the only person exactly the same in the dream world as in reality, though I can't say why this is - he does have a strong personality, though. Object-me, and many of the other students, know, intimately though telepathically-communicated safety procedures, how to fix the elevator. Several of us gather around the elevator, with object-me clinging onto the side, and do some mysterious thing that gets the elevator working. Various protruding levers move sharply downwards and I fear that I may be sliced in half, but object-me doesn't seem to have any such worries. Landing on the ground floor level, object-me changes his mind about going to the common room and instead just heads into town. He wanders aimlessly around Amsterdam, looking for a replacement tube of toothpaste, but instead stumbling across a fancy-looking indoor complex of restaurants. There are long corridors and winding, open stairways of metal and marble; on one of them, I almost die as object-me stumbles forward and just about manages to catch himself from falling on his head. I then reach an agreement with my dream self: "OK, you are going to the biggest store or restaurant you can find on the ground floor level and ask where the nearest pharmacy is." He nearly reaches my destination when, on a red-carpeted lobby above the ground floor area, a voice in his head says "there are no pharmacies nearby." So somebody was reading my/our thoughts! This wasn't right, we agreed. Object-me turned his head and found an imposing, apparently obese man in a brown coat. He was sweating in his heavy clothes and had thick glasses and a patchy beard. Being the only person in the close vicinity, he was the only one who could have relayed that thought. "What are you doing, reading my R-thoughts?" I asked. He returns a devilish smile, which to a stranger would convey the appearance of a wanton sadist. Abruptly he rushes object-me away from the view of the ground floor level, and against a wall. The wind is knocked out of him. A glimpse behind the heavy man's coat reveals that it is covering a giant Tylenol box; he is the Tylenol Man. "Gather around, everyone, I've caught another one." A group of at least six, maybe more, men creep out of nowhere. Object-me is me, and I am object-me, so I fear for my own safety. One of the men reaches behind object-me and pinches his lower-back in a particular spot, causing an unexpectedly intense amount of pain. The Tylenol Man reaches out and touches object-me's head; my head. "Yes, I can read you; I can read your thoughts and memories. I am going to make an example out of you." So at this point I'm thinking, OK, I've had enough of this. Object-me seems to agree, so I have a plan. "There is no escape," the Tylenol Man assures us. "Oh yeah?" object-me thinks back at him. "Well, mister. I, can leave, this, dream..." The "m" is elongated, or rather hummed for as long as I think the dream can stand it. I experience a brief moment of fear at the prospect of this plan of mine not succeeding, but the Tylenol Man's eyes subsequently widen as the surroundings flash blue, and then turn black. And then I wake up.
  13. I'd be really scared of spiders that I believed were potentially harmful to humans, because I'm a goddamn coward. All other spiders are lovely.
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