September 13th, 2004

serious Oracle

Weekend the Sixth

This was a bit of a rough one. We’d come off of a three-day performance into a four-day recovery period (what Lewis calls the hidden “F--- You” of Labor Day). There were very few people in full voice, myself included. My body was still weary.

But, the weather was gorgeous and the crowds, though subdued, were rather nice.

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On the subject of “Ball…” verses, it is astounding how many people want to take part! It’s great to see such enthusiasm; the tough part it accommodating everyone who wants to sing one. We have four more shows; hopefully, everyone will get a shot.
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    exhausted who pummelled me?
serious Oracle

"Can't you see this horse loves me?

I can't believe I forgot to mention this in my epic Sixth Weekend post!

Oso is a singular horse. Heaps of personality, that one, and a surprisingly expressive face. At the end of Joust 2, I get CB'd in the back by the Sheriff (who is on the ground). I fall, get hauled up by the Sheriff and guards and we continue on with the scene into the ground fight.

Oso has taken to sidling away from the Sheriff. I try to keep him in place, but he's having none of it. This weekend was particularly bad. He all but ran from Lewis. On Saturday, Lewis hit me in the shoulder, and instead of 'falling,' I got off and ran to him, basically screaming "How dare you?" (y'know, acting and stuff). On Sunday, Oso was trying to run. I kept turning him in circles, trying to get him closer, but no luck.

Best conjecture is that Oso doesn't want me to get hurt. Seriously. I'm Rider. He takes care of me. He ignored FOOD to get me out of the way. Lewis hit the nail on the head, though. Oso is that stereotypical black guy in the movie theater who shouts "Don't go in there! You gonna get it if you go!"

I'm not going to do this justice at all; I wish you could hear him saying it, but here is what goes on in Oso's head (not meant to be insensitive or offensive, by the bye): "Don't go over there! You know he gonna hit you! I know this one! I seen it! You a Maid; they always get it!"

According to Kel, his facial expression matches perfectly.
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    amused amused
serious Oracle

my wacky dream life

Fair warning to kelleymck, the first one will ick you out.

Here are snippets from my dreams, three nights running.

Thursday night: Kel and I were heading to a party prior on a Friday night before Faire. I needed eye surgery, and she was performing it, but we needed to find Lewis, as he said he would staunch the blood. We got to the party house. Lewis hadn't shown up yet. "We really need to get going," I said, "if I'm going to be healed enough to joust tomorrow!"

"He'll show up," she replied. "We'll just get started." We settled in the basement rec room. She cut into my left eye, repeatedly, until she had to admit we needed Lewis to finish.

"I want to see," I insisted, rising and walking to a full length mirror on the wall. My eye was criss-crossed with tiny incisions (and, oddly enough, no blood).

"Let's just hope it holds up to the pressure of your helm against it," Kel said. (and then I awoke)

Friday night: At the very end of the dream, a group of Faire folk had gathered at a Midtown pub on the East Side. Nothing remarkable about it save they served half-pints of beer in long rectangular glasses. Lewis had gone to get his drink; he came back holding a full pint (in a regular pint glass, by the way), and said, "Someone just asked me how much I paid for this. I said (and here he went into full Sheriff mode) "Nothing. It is, after all, a club sandwich.") (and again, I awoke)

Saturday night: A new booth had oppened at Faire. The actor who plays Robin Hood had made a purchase there, and was eager to show me. "Look!" He held up a slim cardboard box, wherein I could see the pale yellow fluff of a chick. "I'm going to name it Bob, after my Dad." He was beaming.

"Um," said I, "You do know that will grow up into a not so fluffy chicken, right?"

A brief pause, then, with that startled indignance I've only seen from Hood, he answered, "... Yes!"



Now, then. I think I can guess the origins of the eye thing, but not what the hell the rest of it means.

As for the '....club sandwich!" thing - there is no doubt that, in my dream, Lewis was telling one of his jokes. The sad thing is, my subconcious made this particular joke up. Clearly, my subconcious thought this was a real knee-slapper. ::sigh::

As for the last dream... I've got nothin'.
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    confused confused