There is a spider hiding under the table.
The table is glass.
I cannot see it though but I know it's there. I saw it go under and I haven't seen it go out.
It is a fucking invisible spider.
I may never sleep.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Holy crap tree rings!
tree rings are so boring
my eyes
so many fucking trees
i can't even see any rings
and half-lives!
i forget how they work really apart from the obvious things i can work out using english skills
physics was in fourth year for me, so long ago!
i won a prize
i used it to buy this:
because I was in a church when it was presented to me by old men and the blurb taunted me telling me girls shouldn't read it
i am such a rebel
the book was ok
my eyes
so many fucking trees
i can't even see any rings
and half-lives!
i forget how they work really apart from the obvious things i can work out using english skills
physics was in fourth year for me, so long ago!
i won a prize
i used it to buy this:
because I was in a church when it was presented to me by old men and the blurb taunted me telling me girls shouldn't read it
i am such a rebel
the book was ok
Quizzes!
I am terrible with online quizzes. I can spend hours clicking my way through boredom. The more ridiculous the better. Could you be pregnant? Well hell I don't know why don't you tell me internet.
Apparently I am probably not pregnant, if I was a crayon I would be purple, I am a man, my inner eye colour is brown (how dull) and I am 51% bipolar.
51% bipolar. That cracked me up.
Apparently I am probably not pregnant, if I was a crayon I would be purple, I am a man, my inner eye colour is brown (how dull) and I am 51% bipolar.
51% bipolar. That cracked me up.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Making tea in your underwear
I've been writing erratically. I have a pile of notebooks, folded pieces of paper and old train tickets I found on trains because I don't have any. The problem is I have no new plotlines. All I write are scenes. Moments of flashes of emotions. Anything that feels French is stored in the French side of my folder. Anything that's really just a pile of thoughts is set aside or rewritten online elsewhere, I'm still working out how far inside my head I want to share. Then there are all the scenes that neither of my girls can own. It was easier when I hadn't committed myself to anything. Every scene found itself a person who needed it. My head's gone staccato, because goddamn I like that word.
It's not just in my writing either. My brain is entirely distracted with itself. I begin in one place and soon I'm lost in another. I had the most insane dream about the end of the world where I argued with a man who was huffing because he'd been calling me for hours but I was time traveling and it wasn't my fault I couldn't answer. I couldn't assemble a computer and I needed to assemble it when the room span into a board room and we had to take a register while I battered a box with a cardboard cutout of a keyboard. The guy next to me was a robot I wrestled to ground as it wailed about how it kept thinking about rebooting itself and the guy on the other side kept shouting out his philosophies until I threw his cigarettes into the gutter. I went to pick them back up much later and there was a shoe with a pink ribbon and the packet was empty. "The bums stole them!" he cried, as he threw himself down to the ground and handed me a box. "They're always stealing them!" And we went for a walk and the computer's mouse trailed around my feet and I had tried to tell him about the shoe and whether he thought it was significant but I woke up too soon and everytime I closed my eyes to try and find it again all I could see was the shoe and the soggy, snapped remains of the cigarettes I'd thrown.
News, news, news. I know absolutely nothing I should know for my exam on Thursday but I've decided not to think about it at all. I have a one in five chance of getting a job on monday. And I finally sent off a story to a magazine that's worth something other than a mild ego boost. I'm fucking terrified to be honest but let's not be and pretend I'm doing fine instead.
It's not just in my writing either. My brain is entirely distracted with itself. I begin in one place and soon I'm lost in another. I had the most insane dream about the end of the world where I argued with a man who was huffing because he'd been calling me for hours but I was time traveling and it wasn't my fault I couldn't answer. I couldn't assemble a computer and I needed to assemble it when the room span into a board room and we had to take a register while I battered a box with a cardboard cutout of a keyboard. The guy next to me was a robot I wrestled to ground as it wailed about how it kept thinking about rebooting itself and the guy on the other side kept shouting out his philosophies until I threw his cigarettes into the gutter. I went to pick them back up much later and there was a shoe with a pink ribbon and the packet was empty. "The bums stole them!" he cried, as he threw himself down to the ground and handed me a box. "They're always stealing them!" And we went for a walk and the computer's mouse trailed around my feet and I had tried to tell him about the shoe and whether he thought it was significant but I woke up too soon and everytime I closed my eyes to try and find it again all I could see was the shoe and the soggy, snapped remains of the cigarettes I'd thrown.
News, news, news. I know absolutely nothing I should know for my exam on Thursday but I've decided not to think about it at all. I have a one in five chance of getting a job on monday. And I finally sent off a story to a magazine that's worth something other than a mild ego boost. I'm fucking terrified to be honest but let's not be and pretend I'm doing fine instead.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
It's Audrey Hepburn week on Sky. I have watched so many films my eyes hurt. I got to utter the phrase Humphrey Bogart is speaking, why are you? which resulted in a lot of things thrown at me. I have learnt that My Fair Lady is just as bad as I supposed it to be and if you happen to fall in love with someone it will be fairly easy to find them again.
Also having shorn off five inches from the hem of a dress I can only imagine was purchased just in case somebody died I am now the owner of a little black dress. I'm quite in love with it.
I have no occasion to wear such a thing though.
Also having shorn off five inches from the hem of a dress I can only imagine was purchased just in case somebody died I am now the owner of a little black dress. I'm quite in love with it.
I have no occasion to wear such a thing though.
The fairytale was climbing up a mountain far too steep
I like reading other people's books, especially my dad's. He goes through reading periods and then never finishes any of the books he starts. There's about six or seven books next to his bed that he's reading at the moment. My mum complains, he explains that he feels like reading different things at different times which I totally relate to and she whines that he isn't the one having to lift them up to clean underneath. I say clean around then but apparently this is not the attitude of a cleaner who wants to keep her job.
Sometimes I read my dad's books and tell him what they're like. I did that with FIght Club since he read a third of the way in and then piled other books on top and forgot about it. I'm tempted just to claim it as mine but I figure if he ever reads it and likes it he will buy more Chuck Palahniuk and I will reap the rewards. I'm holding his copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's hostage until he finally gets around to reading The Motorcycle Diaries since he finally watched it, not my dvd that I lent him for a year and then took back but on tv. At the moment I'm still trying to find the time to finish On the Road. I'm in the middle of the last journey down to Mexico now and by god is it crazy. He picked it up from the pile next to my couch and thumbed through it to work where I was. Hugely excited he asks if I've read the bit about Jazz yet. I argued the whole book was about Jazz and he shook his head.
"I mean the crazy bit where they're in the Jazz club and they're all mad on amphetamines."
I was not aware there were amphetamines to be honest. Lot of marijuana and having to remember that tea is slang for marijuana and not laughing at the idea of them getting excited over actual tea. Then again I read far too fast, means I can read something several times over and I never get bored but I forget little details. Somehow this lead to a conversation with my mum about drugs that end in zepam and how they make me think of marzipan and so then whenever I'm reading about crazy or depressed people or what have you I get hungry. Hungry for cakes.
The Last Shadow Puppets that I talked about earlier are awesome, I decided this yesterday on the bus. I didn't want to like them much but dammit if they don't sound like a more polished version of the Libertines which is funny because so many bands came out trying to sound like the Libertines and I hated them. Like the View. Oh how awesome you've worn the same jeans for four days now. This is not even anything worth mentioning. It's not that long a time.
Sometimes I read my dad's books and tell him what they're like. I did that with FIght Club since he read a third of the way in and then piled other books on top and forgot about it. I'm tempted just to claim it as mine but I figure if he ever reads it and likes it he will buy more Chuck Palahniuk and I will reap the rewards. I'm holding his copy of Breakfast at Tiffany's hostage until he finally gets around to reading The Motorcycle Diaries since he finally watched it, not my dvd that I lent him for a year and then took back but on tv. At the moment I'm still trying to find the time to finish On the Road. I'm in the middle of the last journey down to Mexico now and by god is it crazy. He picked it up from the pile next to my couch and thumbed through it to work where I was. Hugely excited he asks if I've read the bit about Jazz yet. I argued the whole book was about Jazz and he shook his head.
"I mean the crazy bit where they're in the Jazz club and they're all mad on amphetamines."
I was not aware there were amphetamines to be honest. Lot of marijuana and having to remember that tea is slang for marijuana and not laughing at the idea of them getting excited over actual tea. Then again I read far too fast, means I can read something several times over and I never get bored but I forget little details. Somehow this lead to a conversation with my mum about drugs that end in zepam and how they make me think of marzipan and so then whenever I'm reading about crazy or depressed people or what have you I get hungry. Hungry for cakes.
The Last Shadow Puppets that I talked about earlier are awesome, I decided this yesterday on the bus. I didn't want to like them much but dammit if they don't sound like a more polished version of the Libertines which is funny because so many bands came out trying to sound like the Libertines and I hated them. Like the View. Oh how awesome you've worn the same jeans for four days now. This is not even anything worth mentioning. It's not that long a time.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
I have dreams of orca whales and owls
I did not study yesterday. I tried. I opened a book and I read a chapter and I browsed and I tried but I was not made to study. Not unless there are simple facts to learn. I have only ever studied seriously for one exam and that was maths. I got a C and it was my only C of the year. Yes, I am showing off. I am aware of the seething hatred as the rest of you slave away with books but I do not care. I did shit last year and I had to do good this year or I'd be funding my own wee self through a degree. Let me tell you I don't have the kind of cash to throw away on the kind of subjects I'm taking. So I did not study. I spent from 4 o'clock to 8 o'clock reading a book online which I linked on my wordpress, I am too lazy to find the link again. It was called Starfish and I have never read the whole of something online in one sitting but I did read this. It was pretty good I have to say although there were bits that were all over the place and woo. If you are less lazy than me you can go find it. It was about all these psychotic people that get sent down to the bottom of the ocean for some reason, and addiction and stuff like that. It got in my head a little bit, I like it when stuff does that. Then I watched the Champions league final and that took me to bedtime. I may not study but I know to get a good night's sleep.
So no study and it was an afternoon exam which I hate because I can't start doing anything and I'm terrified I'll forget to go and bleh. Bad times. I stress myself out because I don't study and I worry that maybe I should have. First there were two dead pigeons lying under the bridge just as I was thinking about how my dad goes on about how he wants to shoot them sometimes. Bus stank of paint and cheap cigarettes. I knew a guy who used to smell like that everyday. He always wanted to hug me and asked me where the most exotic place I'd had sex was. I barely knew him, it was funny. There was some sort of school thing going on in the park. Biodiversity is Life proclaimed the tent thing all the kids were running around shouting what number of butterfly they'd found. It was cute. But then I forgot Gemma took this subject. Dear god there's a voice I didn't need to hear before an exam, specially not her voice with all her little friends all shrieking and bleh. I avoid people before the exam, I don't need to hear how nervous someone else is, it makes me nervous when I'm not at all. There's a lot of bowing my head to avoid eye contact. I probably seem hugely anti-social but it's not like I'm bestest friends with these people. Gemma being there made me feel alone though. I hate that. It's like I only care if there's someone there to make me feel small. Bleh.
But! The exam. I had a passing thought as we walked in about Indiana Jones since it came out today but I told myself not to be silly. That is until I flipped the paper over and scanned the questions.
Question number 4: Do you think the release of the new Indiana Jones movie will have a positive or a negative effect on archaeology? Justify your answer.
I read it three times. Then I looked round the hall to see if it was a joke. Nobody looked back at me except pretty legs whose legs were so pretty. She looked at me all suspicious. Your legs are pretty girl, I was just appreciating! There were three other questions I could answer competently but fuck it if there's a question about goddamn Indiana Jones then you best answer it or you're a fool. Although nobody else around me seemed to be answering it and my god the girl next to me wrote in perfect straight lines on blank paper so neat. My exam writing is a scrawl of crazy gibberish.
Let me tell you something. My Indiana Jones essay was a goddamn beautiful piece of journalism. My other essay on ethnoarchaeology was alright but it was all about morals and stuff. Rubbish.
On the way out a Chinese girl skipped in front of me and chased a feather and stopped just in front of me but I smiled and she laughed and I sort of wanted to hug her because life was being silly today but I didn't.
And then we won the league. Man is it great times or what.
So no study and it was an afternoon exam which I hate because I can't start doing anything and I'm terrified I'll forget to go and bleh. Bad times. I stress myself out because I don't study and I worry that maybe I should have. First there were two dead pigeons lying under the bridge just as I was thinking about how my dad goes on about how he wants to shoot them sometimes. Bus stank of paint and cheap cigarettes. I knew a guy who used to smell like that everyday. He always wanted to hug me and asked me where the most exotic place I'd had sex was. I barely knew him, it was funny. There was some sort of school thing going on in the park. Biodiversity is Life proclaimed the tent thing all the kids were running around shouting what number of butterfly they'd found. It was cute. But then I forgot Gemma took this subject. Dear god there's a voice I didn't need to hear before an exam, specially not her voice with all her little friends all shrieking and bleh. I avoid people before the exam, I don't need to hear how nervous someone else is, it makes me nervous when I'm not at all. There's a lot of bowing my head to avoid eye contact. I probably seem hugely anti-social but it's not like I'm bestest friends with these people. Gemma being there made me feel alone though. I hate that. It's like I only care if there's someone there to make me feel small. Bleh.
But! The exam. I had a passing thought as we walked in about Indiana Jones since it came out today but I told myself not to be silly. That is until I flipped the paper over and scanned the questions.
Question number 4: Do you think the release of the new Indiana Jones movie will have a positive or a negative effect on archaeology? Justify your answer.
I read it three times. Then I looked round the hall to see if it was a joke. Nobody looked back at me except pretty legs whose legs were so pretty. She looked at me all suspicious. Your legs are pretty girl, I was just appreciating! There were three other questions I could answer competently but fuck it if there's a question about goddamn Indiana Jones then you best answer it or you're a fool. Although nobody else around me seemed to be answering it and my god the girl next to me wrote in perfect straight lines on blank paper so neat. My exam writing is a scrawl of crazy gibberish.
Let me tell you something. My Indiana Jones essay was a goddamn beautiful piece of journalism. My other essay on ethnoarchaeology was alright but it was all about morals and stuff. Rubbish.
On the way out a Chinese girl skipped in front of me and chased a feather and stopped just in front of me but I smiled and she laughed and I sort of wanted to hug her because life was being silly today but I didn't.
And then we won the league. Man is it great times or what.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I'm just making this up as I go along.
I have two archaeology exams, one I like to call sociology with dead things and the other is the Indy lessons with less adventure and excitement or general interest at all. Kind of like if the films were just him filling in paperwork.
Past papers for the first one are a series of questions. I must answer two tomorrow. The questions are generally a mix of the following:
Archaeology is a form of destruction. How should we preserve what we discover?
Is there a present bias when we look at the past?
Neanderthals, what's up with them?
People don't seem all that interested in heritage. How would you make it more interesting.
You've just dug up a famous figure's corpse. What now?
Darn those metal detectors! Discuss.
Do you ever stop and think academia is the most ridiculous way of accessing how intelligent a person is? I mean I'm sitting at an A in sociology with dead things for saying 'man, that church is old, we should make it into something new' and 'I don't think this website on vikings is reliable because the font is comic sans'. I got a B in the practicals for saying 'prehistory sure is old'. Oh it is insane, insane, insane.
Past papers for the first one are a series of questions. I must answer two tomorrow. The questions are generally a mix of the following:
Archaeology is a form of destruction. How should we preserve what we discover?
Is there a present bias when we look at the past?
Neanderthals, what's up with them?
People don't seem all that interested in heritage. How would you make it more interesting.
You've just dug up a famous figure's corpse. What now?
Darn those metal detectors! Discuss.
Do you ever stop and think academia is the most ridiculous way of accessing how intelligent a person is? I mean I'm sitting at an A in sociology with dead things for saying 'man, that church is old, we should make it into something new' and 'I don't think this website on vikings is reliable because the font is comic sans'. I got a B in the practicals for saying 'prehistory sure is old'. Oh it is insane, insane, insane.
Did you know
that there is such a thing as feminist archaeology?
You know what, I'm happy thinking that in the past "women make pots and men make ploughshares." I don't see a problem with saying that men were the hunter-gathers and women were mothers. There is no issue here. I think feminists really need to learn to pick their battles or just shut up until they work out what they're fighting for these days.
You know what, I'm happy thinking that in the past "women make pots and men make ploughshares." I don't see a problem with saying that men were the hunter-gathers and women were mothers. There is no issue here. I think feminists really need to learn to pick their battles or just shut up until they work out what they're fighting for these days.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Writing cover letters concerning myself may just be the hardest thing to do next to filling in application forms and writing whatever the plural of synopsis is. I do not care enough to look it up even though the dictionary widget is so easy to use.
I need me a secretary.
Those interested should illustrate why they would be awesome following me around holding piles of books and papers whilst I live my very glamourous and self-important life and detail how they would turn from mousey and invisible into a star.
I have the reoccurring image of a secretary sleeping with her boss and saying the words "How does it feel, Mr Taylor, being a living cliché?"
I have yet to build this into anything substantial.
I need me a secretary.
Those interested should illustrate why they would be awesome following me around holding piles of books and papers whilst I live my very glamourous and self-important life and detail how they would turn from mousey and invisible into a star.
I have the reoccurring image of a secretary sleeping with her boss and saying the words "How does it feel, Mr Taylor, being a living cliché?"
I have yet to build this into anything substantial.
Invoke to no reply
I spent a day burning cds. I have to clear out my itunes regularly because I have very little memory left and music is the easiest to delete. I have far too many files and pictures and documents that I don't actually need but always think I might want at some point in the future. Then there's my Stuffs folder. I haven't looked through it in a long time but it holds about 60 items and four of them are folders full of more stuff. Anyway so I make playlists by looking up amazon and working out tracklists and making sure all of them play right and burn them. My speakers are still acting up but I'm pretending it's fine, just like I'm pretending my dvd player hasn't broken. It means I get music, burn it onto a disc, delete the music, realise I haven't put any of it on my ipod so I have to upload the music again and rejig the music on the ipod because it's full and then delete the music all over again. My parents criticised me for not doing anything but I pointed to the stack of cds on my desk. Whole days work. I need a job.
The worst part is I'm running out of blank cds so I try to cram as many albums on one as I can without splitting tracklists. So one Cd has both Wincing the Night Away and Oh, Inverted World because then I can have Chutes Too Narrow on its own because it's my favourite. It's a lot of organising, though my parents still don't count it as productive. It doesn't always work, especially with longer albums and a lot of the shorter ones wouldn't work so well playing together.
The real problem lay with the Mars Volta whose albums I had never got around to burning for some reason and so now I can annoy my neighbours since his office is right next to my room and the speakers are against the adjoining wall. It is heaps of fun. But while I managed two albums fine their newest one took an awful long time to initialise and by the time I had made lunch and sorted dirty washing I returned to the box telling me the album was too long. I had to put the last three tracks on a cd by themselves because I had already burned the other ones and I had nothing appropriate left to fill the space. I'd be pissed off at them but they made the song Agadez. I cannot hate them. I'm just sad I didn't listen to it when it first came out but that's my own fault for being convinced it came out in May.
Music in adverts is always fun to look up. I looked up the song in the upside down deodorant advert. The singer is Gabriella Cilmi but I wasn't much impressed by the rest of her stuff. It's terribly retro pop. One song is like a bad Blondie. The ad song is so very catchy though, I can't get it out of my head. I also found The Cold War Kids because their song was used in the depressing Scrubs ad. They weren't bad, Julie liked them, but I found them a bit samey. I think it's because these bands get played so often, when you try and listen to them properly the meaning's gone. I found that with Feist who I found when Mushaboom was used on a fabric softener ad, least I think it was for that. Then suddenly she was being played in Starbucks constantly and Apple used her in an ipod advert and I can't be bothered listening to her anymore even though her albums were fairly pretty to listen to. I can't even do the indie whine because I found her through an advert in the first place, albeit a few adverts before other people started talking about her.
Oh! and I got the Amelie soundtrack. It's so very pretty,it makes me want to be in Paris so badly. You can listen to some here.
I am having a terrible time other than music. Like my brain shut down and all I can do is get pissed off at all the wrong things. Like the Metro. And the lack of revolutions. I want something to happen. I just don't want to be the person that makes it happen. It all started on Friday really when I had to interact with a guy who made me so very aware of the fact that I was female, in a bad way, and kept calling me sweetheart. And then some guys at a fight in my bus stop and the woman next to me decides to start shouting at them to stop it and then got on a bus just as she's attracted enough attention in my direction. It's times like that I wish I hadn't put a skirt on. I just feel so terribly like a girl that it drives me crazy.
The worst part is I'm running out of blank cds so I try to cram as many albums on one as I can without splitting tracklists. So one Cd has both Wincing the Night Away and Oh, Inverted World because then I can have Chutes Too Narrow on its own because it's my favourite. It's a lot of organising, though my parents still don't count it as productive. It doesn't always work, especially with longer albums and a lot of the shorter ones wouldn't work so well playing together.
The real problem lay with the Mars Volta whose albums I had never got around to burning for some reason and so now I can annoy my neighbours since his office is right next to my room and the speakers are against the adjoining wall. It is heaps of fun. But while I managed two albums fine their newest one took an awful long time to initialise and by the time I had made lunch and sorted dirty washing I returned to the box telling me the album was too long. I had to put the last three tracks on a cd by themselves because I had already burned the other ones and I had nothing appropriate left to fill the space. I'd be pissed off at them but they made the song Agadez. I cannot hate them. I'm just sad I didn't listen to it when it first came out but that's my own fault for being convinced it came out in May.
Music in adverts is always fun to look up. I looked up the song in the upside down deodorant advert. The singer is Gabriella Cilmi but I wasn't much impressed by the rest of her stuff. It's terribly retro pop. One song is like a bad Blondie. The ad song is so very catchy though, I can't get it out of my head. I also found The Cold War Kids because their song was used in the depressing Scrubs ad. They weren't bad, Julie liked them, but I found them a bit samey. I think it's because these bands get played so often, when you try and listen to them properly the meaning's gone. I found that with Feist who I found when Mushaboom was used on a fabric softener ad, least I think it was for that. Then suddenly she was being played in Starbucks constantly and Apple used her in an ipod advert and I can't be bothered listening to her anymore even though her albums were fairly pretty to listen to. I can't even do the indie whine because I found her through an advert in the first place, albeit a few adverts before other people started talking about her.
Oh! and I got the Amelie soundtrack. It's so very pretty,it makes me want to be in Paris so badly. You can listen to some here.
I am having a terrible time other than music. Like my brain shut down and all I can do is get pissed off at all the wrong things. Like the Metro. And the lack of revolutions. I want something to happen. I just don't want to be the person that makes it happen. It all started on Friday really when I had to interact with a guy who made me so very aware of the fact that I was female, in a bad way, and kept calling me sweetheart. And then some guys at a fight in my bus stop and the woman next to me decides to start shouting at them to stop it and then got on a bus just as she's attracted enough attention in my direction. It's times like that I wish I hadn't put a skirt on. I just feel so terribly like a girl that it drives me crazy.
Monday, May 19, 2008
I had a flurry of spending. At my present state of economics this means I spent about a fiver. About £2 of this was on Grand Theft Auto 3 because I lack the funds and console upgrades to play the new one and it wouldn't be an exam period if I didn't have a new game to play. Granted a game that involves driving is never a good move for me and I have been inexplicably drawn to driving straight into the nearest body of water and drowning. But I get by ok.
Julie has now taken to asking if I'm gonna go smack-a-bitch whenever she wants to watch me play. I let her drive around for a bit and she sang Rawhide whilst trying to smush as many people under her wheels before she stole a fire engine, put out a burning car and then rammed it continuously into the recently rescued car until it burst into flames to enjoy the irony. And then she caught fire and died. This is how Julie plays.
PS JULIE IS AWESOME
Julie has now taken to asking if I'm gonna go smack-a-bitch whenever she wants to watch me play. I let her drive around for a bit and she sang Rawhide whilst trying to smush as many people under her wheels before she stole a fire engine, put out a burning car and then rammed it continuously into the recently rescued car until it burst into flames to enjoy the irony. And then she caught fire and died. This is how Julie plays.
PS JULIE IS AWESOME
Sunday, May 18, 2008
She obliterated everything she kissed.
There's a charity shop down the street from work. I stop in there when I'm not too tired just in case there's something amazing lurking in the racks. Or second best: potential. There hasn't been much these past few weeks except a rather awesome hat that was too small. First time for that. Today I found an Audrey Hepburnesque little black dress and so I had to try it on. I mean it was almost compulsory. And there was potential. Bags of potential apart from the fact that the bust and the sleeves would have to be adjusted but I've been itching to start a new project that wasn't make another bag. But the work I'd have to do and the price didn't make for a bargain and besides when was I going to wear a Hepburn dress.
Thing is once I try something on and start fixing it up in my head I've made it mine. Putting it back on the hanger is like a pang. Some tiny little part of me is still there working out a way to make it work. So now I'm looking at old black dresses in the back of my wardrobe and spinning my scissors round my fingers. Somewhere in here is a gorgeous dress. I've just got to work out how to find it.
Thing is once I try something on and start fixing it up in my head I've made it mine. Putting it back on the hanger is like a pang. Some tiny little part of me is still there working out a way to make it work. So now I'm looking at old black dresses in the back of my wardrobe and spinning my scissors round my fingers. Somewhere in here is a gorgeous dress. I've just got to work out how to find it.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Oh bebo, why do I even have you
My homepage was covered in the red face of the head of my high school. There is some new page for graduates you see. Or maybe it isn't new and I just haven't found it until now. I was one of the few that was truly glad to leave, it seems. I've been back a grand total of three times. Once to see my philosophy teacher and twice to pick up Julie when she was ill. So no compulsion to friend this thing that's for sure.
Didn't stop me from browsing who has joined. First thought was the majority were from the year above us feeling all nostalgic. Second thought was that there were a lot of Davids although funnily enough none of the ones I actually dated and lastly there are a lot of rangers fans. Really just like being back there and before the urge to be nosy won over I closed the window and was grateful I left it behind where it belongs. I'm not saying 'oh god so awful' but seriously it is the most insane place.
Didn't stop me from browsing who has joined. First thought was the majority were from the year above us feeling all nostalgic. Second thought was that there were a lot of Davids although funnily enough none of the ones I actually dated and lastly there are a lot of rangers fans. Really just like being back there and before the urge to be nosy won over I closed the window and was grateful I left it behind where it belongs. I'm not saying 'oh god so awful' but seriously it is the most insane place.
Slicing up eyeballs, I want you to know
Eating fresh lychees is like eating eyeballs.
I imagine.
It's deliciously freaky.
I imagine.
It's deliciously freaky.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Did you know
that snot is pH neutral?
It totally is. I tested it for SCIENCE.
and because Julie dared me to stick the paper up my nose
It totally is. I tested it for SCIENCE.
and because Julie dared me to stick the paper up my nose
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sorting through filing cabinets
Eschatological Verification!
It basically means we can only ever find out the truth about the afterlife when we die.
I found my RMPS folder and my maths jotters (with U R SO SMALL written over one of the covers) and every Chemistry booklet I completed so Julie could have totally just copied me instead of doing work. There's also my collective passport for the Spain trip. I look very odd. All pale, confused and with two messy pigtails sticking out behind my ears. Attractive.
Thought: when God gives you lemons, suck em because they are gorgeous.
Back to the sorting.
It basically means we can only ever find out the truth about the afterlife when we die.
I found my RMPS folder and my maths jotters (with U R SO SMALL written over one of the covers) and every Chemistry booklet I completed so Julie could have totally just copied me instead of doing work. There's also my collective passport for the Spain trip. I look very odd. All pale, confused and with two messy pigtails sticking out behind my ears. Attractive.
Thought: when God gives you lemons, suck em because they are gorgeous.
Back to the sorting.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Levitate Me
I haven't had a good music day in months.
Music days are when I trawl the internet, the depths of music television as in MTV2 when they have a good run and Q at the right time of day, and my general knowledge and see what I can come up with. Lots of trying things out on lastfm and myspace. Last time I did this was around Christmas and with the exception of a couple of albums most of those ones grew boring after a few listens. So once more I try and you are invited to come with because I am really fucking bored.
First thing I found out was The Last Shadow Puppets are not at all bad considering my indifference towards The Arctic Monkeys (and their first single is intolerable to me for reasons inappropriate for the internet). I would go so far as to say they are pretty good and I may admit I was attracted by the very large picture of the album cover in the window of Virgin. I can't say why exactly since the girl is not attractive herself but whatever. So yeah I've listened through the album once and I enjoyed it. Hurray for them.
I found Margot and the Nuclear So and So's after I read someone compare them to The Shins. The two aren't really that similar. I mean they are both kind of folky but not really, both have that sort of soft male vocal but the overall sound is nothing alike. Not bad though nothing new. In fact the vocals could be female and it would become very generic very fast I think but that might just the song I'm listening to now. They have a song called Paper Kitten Nightmare. I have not listened to it but I had an image of a cat dressed as a ghost using a paper bag. There's another song that goes Jen is bringing the drugs/she wants to get real fucked up but it's sung over this acoustic guitar all nicelike. I can't decide whether it's good or look I am singing bad things nicely! I'm leaning t'wards the latter. Oh god he just said love is like an inkless pen. In fact the more I listen the more I dislike which is a shame because the first track I listened to was pretty good. Bleh he's singing about getting drunk on cheap red wine in paper cups now. He does not sound like he has done these things. Moving on time!
To Goldfrapp! I never thought I'd be listening to Goldfrapp seriously. I mean she rides a gorram discoball horse. However she's kind of attractive in a trashy over the top kind of way but I never felt the urge to listen further than ooh la la. Their new album attracted me with the album cover again and is completely different. It's all acousticy and has some of these really gorgeous songs to play in the dark. Total surprise, very happy I am.
I read somewhere that Pixies fans can be split into two groups: Those who think breakfast consists of black coffee prefer Surfer Rosa/Come On Pilgrim and Doolittle, and those who think breakfast should be cake prefer Bossanova and Trompe le Monde. Rarely do these ridiculous claims actually apply to me but I realised I only ever have coffee in the morning and the two albums I own are those I am supposed to like. Not to be categorised I immediately looked up the other two. They are pretty much what you would expect from the Pixies: freakin awesome although yes I concede I do prefer the original two. I guess he was right whoever he was?
Browsing through Lastfm I listened to T rex, The Sugarcubes, The Velvet Underground (who sing the I'm sticking to you/cause I'm made out of glue song, did not know that), a Roxy cover by Melissa Auf Der Maur and a Metallica cover by Bif Naked.
Did you know Scarlett Johansson made an album? Did you know she sings like a man? I want to like it but it is difficult. It's some sort of Tom Waits cover album. Hmmm.
Lastly I listened to Death Cab for Cutie which must be about my fifth attempt only this time I actually listened. There was a girl in my Spanish class, really great girl she taught us all some card game that I won but lost because she hadn't taught me how to declare that I'd won. One day she hadn't listened to any music made in her lifetime the next she had the tshirt, every album and had seen them live. All we ever heard was Death Cab this and Death Cab that and I couldn't go near them. Prompted to read the Metro article on them on the bus ride home prompted me to actually try and yes they are good. It helps that I can't really remember what she looks like. I mean considering I like The Postal Service at least I already knew I wouldn't hate his voice.
I lied they aren't last. I also listened to another Broken Social Scene album that I hadn't listened to before. It was also very good and I will keep going on about them until someone acknowledges this. I mean how can you not love a band that can write a song about blowjobs and make it so pretty?
Now I'm done.
Music days are when I trawl the internet, the depths of music television as in MTV2 when they have a good run and Q at the right time of day, and my general knowledge and see what I can come up with. Lots of trying things out on lastfm and myspace. Last time I did this was around Christmas and with the exception of a couple of albums most of those ones grew boring after a few listens. So once more I try and you are invited to come with because I am really fucking bored.
First thing I found out was The Last Shadow Puppets are not at all bad considering my indifference towards The Arctic Monkeys (and their first single is intolerable to me for reasons inappropriate for the internet). I would go so far as to say they are pretty good and I may admit I was attracted by the very large picture of the album cover in the window of Virgin. I can't say why exactly since the girl is not attractive herself but whatever. So yeah I've listened through the album once and I enjoyed it. Hurray for them.
I found Margot and the Nuclear So and So's after I read someone compare them to The Shins. The two aren't really that similar. I mean they are both kind of folky but not really, both have that sort of soft male vocal but the overall sound is nothing alike. Not bad though nothing new. In fact the vocals could be female and it would become very generic very fast I think but that might just the song I'm listening to now. They have a song called Paper Kitten Nightmare. I have not listened to it but I had an image of a cat dressed as a ghost using a paper bag. There's another song that goes Jen is bringing the drugs/she wants to get real fucked up but it's sung over this acoustic guitar all nicelike. I can't decide whether it's good or look I am singing bad things nicely! I'm leaning t'wards the latter. Oh god he just said love is like an inkless pen. In fact the more I listen the more I dislike which is a shame because the first track I listened to was pretty good. Bleh he's singing about getting drunk on cheap red wine in paper cups now. He does not sound like he has done these things. Moving on time!
To Goldfrapp! I never thought I'd be listening to Goldfrapp seriously. I mean she rides a gorram discoball horse. However she's kind of attractive in a trashy over the top kind of way but I never felt the urge to listen further than ooh la la. Their new album attracted me with the album cover again and is completely different. It's all acousticy and has some of these really gorgeous songs to play in the dark. Total surprise, very happy I am.
I read somewhere that Pixies fans can be split into two groups: Those who think breakfast consists of black coffee prefer Surfer Rosa/Come On Pilgrim and Doolittle, and those who think breakfast should be cake prefer Bossanova and Trompe le Monde. Rarely do these ridiculous claims actually apply to me but I realised I only ever have coffee in the morning and the two albums I own are those I am supposed to like. Not to be categorised I immediately looked up the other two. They are pretty much what you would expect from the Pixies: freakin awesome although yes I concede I do prefer the original two. I guess he was right whoever he was?
Browsing through Lastfm I listened to T rex, The Sugarcubes, The Velvet Underground (who sing the I'm sticking to you/cause I'm made out of glue song, did not know that), a Roxy cover by Melissa Auf Der Maur and a Metallica cover by Bif Naked.
Did you know Scarlett Johansson made an album? Did you know she sings like a man? I want to like it but it is difficult. It's some sort of Tom Waits cover album. Hmmm.
Lastly I listened to Death Cab for Cutie which must be about my fifth attempt only this time I actually listened. There was a girl in my Spanish class, really great girl she taught us all some card game that I won but lost because she hadn't taught me how to declare that I'd won. One day she hadn't listened to any music made in her lifetime the next she had the tshirt, every album and had seen them live. All we ever heard was Death Cab this and Death Cab that and I couldn't go near them. Prompted to read the Metro article on them on the bus ride home prompted me to actually try and yes they are good. It helps that I can't really remember what she looks like. I mean considering I like The Postal Service at least I already knew I wouldn't hate his voice.
I lied they aren't last. I also listened to another Broken Social Scene album that I hadn't listened to before. It was also very good and I will keep going on about them until someone acknowledges this. I mean how can you not love a band that can write a song about blowjobs and make it so pretty?
Now I'm done.
Yeah I probably should have studied.
And why did they have to make the attractive still-have-no-idea-what-her-accent-is woman read out the fire alarm stuff. That made planning a little difficult. Although my plan was NAZIS! FRENCH REVOLUTION! and working out how centuries work. You know, if this is the 21st century and we have 20s at the start then 20th=19 and 19th=18 and really seeing as how I'm going to be doing a history degree whatever happens I should be able to work that out without writing it down everytime.
Yeah let's just be glad my essay was so good.
But guess what? I am now free for a week. I'm going to do nothing and it will be awesome.
And why did they have to make the attractive still-have-no-idea-what-her-accent-is woman read out the fire alarm stuff. That made planning a little difficult. Although my plan was NAZIS! FRENCH REVOLUTION! and working out how centuries work. You know, if this is the 21st century and we have 20s at the start then 20th=19 and 19th=18 and really seeing as how I'm going to be doing a history degree whatever happens I should be able to work that out without writing it down everytime.
Yeah let's just be glad my essay was so good.
But guess what? I am now free for a week. I'm going to do nothing and it will be awesome.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
the worst thing about exams isn't the actual work. It isn't the fact that I haven't studied at all though I did at least read the books eventually. I can get over the fact that I bullshitted through at least half of the questions and plain didn't know the answers to at least three of them. It's not even the fact that it is sunny and I should be lying in the grass with a book and a beer.
But why oh why must they pick a new and different hall each time?
Classics was in the Kelvin Gallery. Helpful really since you get to a certain area in the West End and everything is Kelvin something. First off it wasn't on my map. The bigger one I found online doesn't much help either since the main building doesn't tell you what floor anything is on and seemed to suggest it was in the visitor centre. Further exploration of the uni website told me that it was in the museum. I can't be blamed for this. It actually said A7=Kelvin Gallery/museum and it was not over the actual Kelvin Art Gallery and Museum like you might suppose I had mistaken it for.
It was in neither of these places and thankfully someone thoughtfully put up signs all around the cloisters with a big WAIT HERE FOR CLASSICS outside the door. It was in the Business school.
I swear I get more wound up I'm never gonna find the stupid hall than the actual exam itself. Which went fine incidentally but I should have possibly revised all of those Latin names.
But why oh why must they pick a new and different hall each time?
Classics was in the Kelvin Gallery. Helpful really since you get to a certain area in the West End and everything is Kelvin something. First off it wasn't on my map. The bigger one I found online doesn't much help either since the main building doesn't tell you what floor anything is on and seemed to suggest it was in the visitor centre. Further exploration of the uni website told me that it was in the museum. I can't be blamed for this. It actually said A7=Kelvin Gallery/museum and it was not over the actual Kelvin Art Gallery and Museum like you might suppose I had mistaken it for.
It was in neither of these places and thankfully someone thoughtfully put up signs all around the cloisters with a big WAIT HERE FOR CLASSICS outside the door. It was in the Business school.
I swear I get more wound up I'm never gonna find the stupid hall than the actual exam itself. Which went fine incidentally but I should have possibly revised all of those Latin names.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Things that have made me laugh today
Joe being god and feeling the need to tell me so at 2 in the morning.
Julie waking me up before school to tell me about several things.
One being a boy called Ryan who was off school for so long someone decided to tell everyone that he was in Ethiopia making sandals for the poor. Everyone decided this was true including their geography teacher. He was just ill or something.
He has boils on his nose and she cannot listen to a word he says anymore.
Some other guy greets her friend with the words "Hey Jiffy Big Cock." Jiffy is her nickname you see. This was the result of trying to work out what JBK stood for. It was John Barrowman Kidnapping. Point is I was not expecting that greeting in the middle of the story about:
An exchange between him and Julie.
Boy: You still writing they mad stories?
Sis: Yes.
Boy: But they're jakey.
Sis: I get money for writing them.
Boy: Naw you don't
Sis: Yes. I got £1000 for my last one.
Boy: But they're jakey.
Sis: Mmm money
Boy: I bet I coulda written them better.
Sis: Money, money, money
Boy: You didn't get £1000.
Teacher: Yes she did. I read about it in the newspaper. Well done, Julie.
Sis: Money, money, money, maybe I should buy Catherine something nice like Guitar Hero or a Wii or a good book.
Kate Beaton and John Campbell having a historical comic fight.
It is only half past nine. Either this will be one hell of a day or it I've had all the fun I'm allowed and sadness will descend.
Quite frankly I had a fucking fantastic idea for a story and the scene won't leave my head but I don't remember all the little details I came up with because I couldn't find a notebook that I liked. I miss my little Papaerblank. They don't have them anywhere. But anyway I have an exam tomorrow morning and another the day after so perhaps I should study.
And the archaeological society finally decided to have an Indiana Jones marathon this Friday. Only it costs £5 to get in and we have to pay for drinks and stuff and I have the dvds at home for free. Anti-social yes but thrifty.
Speaking of thrift I just ordered Shoot em up for £3. Who's gonna see Clive Owen shoot things and have sex with Monica Bellucci?
I am, because I rock.
One last thing. I found an ad for some radio company that's looking for people to write short screenplays for adverts. I don't know why I find that amusing. I think it has something to do with the fact that I remember writing adverts for various enterprising things at school and the boy who could pick his own nose with his tongue hid in the back for one of them before leaping out and proclaiming "no purchase necessary" from nowhere.
Julie waking me up before school to tell me about several things.
One being a boy called Ryan who was off school for so long someone decided to tell everyone that he was in Ethiopia making sandals for the poor. Everyone decided this was true including their geography teacher. He was just ill or something.
He has boils on his nose and she cannot listen to a word he says anymore.
Some other guy greets her friend with the words "Hey Jiffy Big Cock." Jiffy is her nickname you see. This was the result of trying to work out what JBK stood for. It was John Barrowman Kidnapping. Point is I was not expecting that greeting in the middle of the story about:
An exchange between him and Julie.
Boy: You still writing they mad stories?
Sis: Yes.
Boy: But they're jakey.
Sis: I get money for writing them.
Boy: Naw you don't
Sis: Yes. I got £1000 for my last one.
Boy: But they're jakey.
Sis: Mmm money
Boy: I bet I coulda written them better.
Sis: Money, money, money
Boy: You didn't get £1000.
Teacher: Yes she did. I read about it in the newspaper. Well done, Julie.
Sis: Money, money, money, maybe I should buy Catherine something nice like Guitar Hero or a Wii or a good book.
Kate Beaton and John Campbell having a historical comic fight.
It is only half past nine. Either this will be one hell of a day or it I've had all the fun I'm allowed and sadness will descend.
Quite frankly I had a fucking fantastic idea for a story and the scene won't leave my head but I don't remember all the little details I came up with because I couldn't find a notebook that I liked. I miss my little Papaerblank. They don't have them anywhere. But anyway I have an exam tomorrow morning and another the day after so perhaps I should study.
And the archaeological society finally decided to have an Indiana Jones marathon this Friday. Only it costs £5 to get in and we have to pay for drinks and stuff and I have the dvds at home for free. Anti-social yes but thrifty.
Speaking of thrift I just ordered Shoot em up for £3. Who's gonna see Clive Owen shoot things and have sex with Monica Bellucci?
I am, because I rock.
One last thing. I found an ad for some radio company that's looking for people to write short screenplays for adverts. I don't know why I find that amusing. I think it has something to do with the fact that I remember writing adverts for various enterprising things at school and the boy who could pick his own nose with his tongue hid in the back for one of them before leaping out and proclaiming "no purchase necessary" from nowhere.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I had a dream last night. I was stuck in a flat full of skinny ass models probably because I saw this girl whose thighs did not meet. Does the wind whistle through?
Speaking of girls I saw yesterday, because I love to keep you informed of girls I see that are worth mentioning, I presume the French are on holiday because the large bagpacked groups of olive skinned students have arrived. I thrust my way through one group of these, exhausted, far too warm due to heaters being left on in the offices, trying to hide the big blue plaster on my wrist because it looked so utterly ridiculous and squinting a little more than usual, when suddenly one of them turned round and shouted "Gauche!" in my face. I received half a smile in apology but who cares, she was gorgeous. A french bundle of hair and a purpley red jumper. It made up for the twiglet legs of earlier and the trapezium shaped man still to come.
Anyway dream. I remember struggling to pull my tshirt off from under this weird dress thing that someone had zipped me into before I could take my existing clothes off. I remember something about glasses and people prodding my eye. I punched this blonde girl in the face while she slept (classy I know) and all these tiny pills came flying out of her mouth along with atomic fireballs (which I have an insane craving for now). I mean they just kept coming. And then that was some sort of a clue because those pills were found somewhere else and I'd solved a murder.
Then I read the most amazing book I have ever read and it changed my life and I woke up to the last three chapters of the goddamn Aeneid for the exam I am ill-prepared for.
Plus side? My eye doesn't hurt like fuck anymore. It is only mildly irritated if I look wildly about the room for instance. Also my hair doesn't suck for once.
Speaking of girls I saw yesterday, because I love to keep you informed of girls I see that are worth mentioning, I presume the French are on holiday because the large bagpacked groups of olive skinned students have arrived. I thrust my way through one group of these, exhausted, far too warm due to heaters being left on in the offices, trying to hide the big blue plaster on my wrist because it looked so utterly ridiculous and squinting a little more than usual, when suddenly one of them turned round and shouted "Gauche!" in my face. I received half a smile in apology but who cares, she was gorgeous. A french bundle of hair and a purpley red jumper. It made up for the twiglet legs of earlier and the trapezium shaped man still to come.
Anyway dream. I remember struggling to pull my tshirt off from under this weird dress thing that someone had zipped me into before I could take my existing clothes off. I remember something about glasses and people prodding my eye. I punched this blonde girl in the face while she slept (classy I know) and all these tiny pills came flying out of her mouth along with atomic fireballs (which I have an insane craving for now). I mean they just kept coming. And then that was some sort of a clue because those pills were found somewhere else and I'd solved a murder.
Then I read the most amazing book I have ever read and it changed my life and I woke up to the last three chapters of the goddamn Aeneid for the exam I am ill-prepared for.
Plus side? My eye doesn't hurt like fuck anymore. It is only mildly irritated if I look wildly about the room for instance. Also my hair doesn't suck for once.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Case in motherfucking point:
It's a freakin orgasm of a track.
Perhaps I am too easily excited by music.
I do not care.
It's a freakin orgasm of a track.
Perhaps I am too easily excited by music.
I do not care.
If you close the door the night could last forever
Do you ever get the feeling that you're practicing living?
I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm going to try to explain. I wasn't even going to explain it to you, I planned it out somewhere else but changed my mind. I mean not that it really matters. Here you'll read it or glance at it. One or two of you might latch on to little things and ignore the rest. Others might bring things up I've forgotten I even wrote later and muddle my head a little. There nobody is really reading and those that are I don't know. Either way I'm just talking to myself because I never seem to have the time to talk to you.
I'm doing my utmost to be good. You know suppress my instinct that tells me to cancel everything! Hide out at home where nobody can see you. I have no idea what I'm afraid of. Make a decision and back track to get out of it. It's like I have to switch something off in my brain to have a goddamn good time. Somedays I'm too fucking indecisive to set foot outside my own house. I hate that. I really really do.
But yesterday I didn't let myself think. I woke up for five minutes and cursed my pillow and whisky for tasting so good and giving me headaches. And then I woke up later and wrote. Flurries and flurries of words. Go back and write them again and I'm waiting to see if I actually have the guts to finish any of it. But you know I am actually enjoying myself. I mean I want it all, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hit it big, but little things like my dad telling me my dialogue was good even though I hadn't wanted him to read the piece he took it means a lot. It's not like I'm starved of praise or anything I'm just vain though I don't believe the things people say. I read my work and hear my voice and my thoughts and it's annoying. Like I could write the most amazing thing and never want to read it because I wrote it.
Anyway point, point, point. I digress far too much. I made myself go into uni even though I didn't know where the room I was going to was and I don't like getting a grade in front of other people in case I bombed. But it was my old archaeology guy from last semester who is like the nicest guy you could ever want teaching. Also I got a B. A B for saying hey guys prehistory is pretty goshdarn old dontcha think? Fuck yes I am awesome. I have one more essay to get back and if I get a good grade on that I have succeeded. Not that any of it really matters because I'm only at uni because I don't have anything else to do and bullshitting through essays is all I can do but whatever.
So then I'm like is that what I'm gonna do the rest of my life. Bullshit and bullshit until I hit an end? I write blind, I read blind, I live blind and sometimes I don't stop long enough to notice anything. Oi, oi, oi it is trouble. Though in all honesty everything is ok. May is dull but once the exams pass me I can breathe. There's no sense that maybe I should at least pretend to study. Trick my mind that I know this shit. My archaeology essay said I made good use of archaeological language. This is because I'm very good at throwing things in to make it sound like a know shit. Hmm maybe dendrochronology would be useful here?
I am very very slowly turning a darker shade of pale. I will never be brown but the freckles that faintly emerge make life more interesting. My fingernail joins up the dots. It's something to do. In a perfect world I'd be sitting in a sea of green with the sun on my face and a cigarette that wouldn't involve my father battering me and I would write a masterpiece and sleep happily. Instead I have to sit on concrete in the sun because the neighbours behind us are nudist crazy christians with a trampoline and the guy next door is cheerfully annoying with sheds to build and dogs that yap. there's a park three doors down but I wouldn't sit in it for love or money. It was a lot more fun when my rabbit wasn't dead. She made the concrete fluffier. I used to sprawl out on an old lounger thing that was suspiciously squeaky and sank in the middle. I'd lay there with gigantic sunglasses and a book and she would stretch out beneath me, occasionally nibbling at my fingers or my hair if it trailed down. I miss her.
I forgot my point. And the sweetest little song came on and I don't really care. I think it's the sun. I'm being unusually cheerful to strangers on buses and in shops which is good you know because I'm so fumbling clumsy. At least with a smile it feels all ok. I'm listening to After Hours by the way by the Velvet Underground which more people need to listen to because they were a pretty damn important band in the shaping of a lot of bands these days. I mean honest to go a huge part of the indie genre would not exist if they hadn't. Anyway it is the most sweetest little song and even if you don't bother your asses getting musically educated if you have seen the science of sleep the song Gael sings dressed up as a cat is the same song with different lyrics. And if you've seen brick you've heard the velvet underground. I'm saying this purely because I only ever get to talk about them (aside from my dad who adores them) to drunk guys that are usually in their mid-twenties who get very excited that when they asked the usual so what sort of music are you into and get a band that is actually good. Unfortunately you can actually see the conflict. Do I start a musical conversation with this girl or do I go hmm yes and try and kiss her again. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Last one talked to me and kissed my friend. That is greed right there.
I had the most intense dream. I was crushed in with too many people and everyone was talking too much and oh whatever. I'm tired now.
Have you ever, ever felt like this? When strange things happen are you going round the twist. You know there's a few conversations from a girl called Kirsty who is not the Kirsty some of you know but a different one who I was really close to when I was younger. Anyway one of them is that show and some episode she saw that I never did about the guy getting pregnant by a fairy while he was peeing against a tree. I do not know why I would remember that or if it even is a real episode. She also told me that she got on an 18 from east kilbride and it took her all the way into town before going home so we could never ever get on an 18 again because it was lies. I've been up and down from east kilbride twice in the past week. None of the many buses were 18s. God I loved her. I met her on the subway a while back. She goes to Glasgow now, she was always much smarter than she acted and dear god I just wanted to hug her and ask if her mum ever did get pregnant like Kirsty was so sure she was. But you know just cause you were inseparable as kids doesn't mean you can throw yourself onto them now.
She's reminded me of lesbians. Not because she is one but whatever. In the west end yesterday I saw this couple, all over each other with arms wrapped round like about twice and ending on the opposite ass and kissing all the time. It was like please put your joy away. I do not need to see lesbians licking each other. Anyway that isn't the story. The best part of this was they were not alone. There was a third girl walking beside them. Now you know how you get the pretty girl and her fat friend? Well this was the okish but lesbian couple and the fat friend. Oh how uncomfortable and left out she looked. It was sad yet I laughed far too loud on the bus as we passed them.
Dear god I've written a lot of shite and now my mum has brought me home a sandwich. Sweet free food, my life is fantastic.
I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm going to try to explain. I wasn't even going to explain it to you, I planned it out somewhere else but changed my mind. I mean not that it really matters. Here you'll read it or glance at it. One or two of you might latch on to little things and ignore the rest. Others might bring things up I've forgotten I even wrote later and muddle my head a little. There nobody is really reading and those that are I don't know. Either way I'm just talking to myself because I never seem to have the time to talk to you.
I'm doing my utmost to be good. You know suppress my instinct that tells me to cancel everything! Hide out at home where nobody can see you. I have no idea what I'm afraid of. Make a decision and back track to get out of it. It's like I have to switch something off in my brain to have a goddamn good time. Somedays I'm too fucking indecisive to set foot outside my own house. I hate that. I really really do.
But yesterday I didn't let myself think. I woke up for five minutes and cursed my pillow and whisky for tasting so good and giving me headaches. And then I woke up later and wrote. Flurries and flurries of words. Go back and write them again and I'm waiting to see if I actually have the guts to finish any of it. But you know I am actually enjoying myself. I mean I want it all, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hit it big, but little things like my dad telling me my dialogue was good even though I hadn't wanted him to read the piece he took it means a lot. It's not like I'm starved of praise or anything I'm just vain though I don't believe the things people say. I read my work and hear my voice and my thoughts and it's annoying. Like I could write the most amazing thing and never want to read it because I wrote it.
Anyway point, point, point. I digress far too much. I made myself go into uni even though I didn't know where the room I was going to was and I don't like getting a grade in front of other people in case I bombed. But it was my old archaeology guy from last semester who is like the nicest guy you could ever want teaching. Also I got a B. A B for saying hey guys prehistory is pretty goshdarn old dontcha think? Fuck yes I am awesome. I have one more essay to get back and if I get a good grade on that I have succeeded. Not that any of it really matters because I'm only at uni because I don't have anything else to do and bullshitting through essays is all I can do but whatever.
So then I'm like is that what I'm gonna do the rest of my life. Bullshit and bullshit until I hit an end? I write blind, I read blind, I live blind and sometimes I don't stop long enough to notice anything. Oi, oi, oi it is trouble. Though in all honesty everything is ok. May is dull but once the exams pass me I can breathe. There's no sense that maybe I should at least pretend to study. Trick my mind that I know this shit. My archaeology essay said I made good use of archaeological language. This is because I'm very good at throwing things in to make it sound like a know shit. Hmm maybe dendrochronology would be useful here?
I am very very slowly turning a darker shade of pale. I will never be brown but the freckles that faintly emerge make life more interesting. My fingernail joins up the dots. It's something to do. In a perfect world I'd be sitting in a sea of green with the sun on my face and a cigarette that wouldn't involve my father battering me and I would write a masterpiece and sleep happily. Instead I have to sit on concrete in the sun because the neighbours behind us are nudist crazy christians with a trampoline and the guy next door is cheerfully annoying with sheds to build and dogs that yap. there's a park three doors down but I wouldn't sit in it for love or money. It was a lot more fun when my rabbit wasn't dead. She made the concrete fluffier. I used to sprawl out on an old lounger thing that was suspiciously squeaky and sank in the middle. I'd lay there with gigantic sunglasses and a book and she would stretch out beneath me, occasionally nibbling at my fingers or my hair if it trailed down. I miss her.
I forgot my point. And the sweetest little song came on and I don't really care. I think it's the sun. I'm being unusually cheerful to strangers on buses and in shops which is good you know because I'm so fumbling clumsy. At least with a smile it feels all ok. I'm listening to After Hours by the way by the Velvet Underground which more people need to listen to because they were a pretty damn important band in the shaping of a lot of bands these days. I mean honest to go a huge part of the indie genre would not exist if they hadn't. Anyway it is the most sweetest little song and even if you don't bother your asses getting musically educated if you have seen the science of sleep the song Gael sings dressed up as a cat is the same song with different lyrics. And if you've seen brick you've heard the velvet underground. I'm saying this purely because I only ever get to talk about them (aside from my dad who adores them) to drunk guys that are usually in their mid-twenties who get very excited that when they asked the usual so what sort of music are you into and get a band that is actually good. Unfortunately you can actually see the conflict. Do I start a musical conversation with this girl or do I go hmm yes and try and kiss her again. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Last one talked to me and kissed my friend. That is greed right there.
I had the most intense dream. I was crushed in with too many people and everyone was talking too much and oh whatever. I'm tired now.
Have you ever, ever felt like this? When strange things happen are you going round the twist. You know there's a few conversations from a girl called Kirsty who is not the Kirsty some of you know but a different one who I was really close to when I was younger. Anyway one of them is that show and some episode she saw that I never did about the guy getting pregnant by a fairy while he was peeing against a tree. I do not know why I would remember that or if it even is a real episode. She also told me that she got on an 18 from east kilbride and it took her all the way into town before going home so we could never ever get on an 18 again because it was lies. I've been up and down from east kilbride twice in the past week. None of the many buses were 18s. God I loved her. I met her on the subway a while back. She goes to Glasgow now, she was always much smarter than she acted and dear god I just wanted to hug her and ask if her mum ever did get pregnant like Kirsty was so sure she was. But you know just cause you were inseparable as kids doesn't mean you can throw yourself onto them now.
She's reminded me of lesbians. Not because she is one but whatever. In the west end yesterday I saw this couple, all over each other with arms wrapped round like about twice and ending on the opposite ass and kissing all the time. It was like please put your joy away. I do not need to see lesbians licking each other. Anyway that isn't the story. The best part of this was they were not alone. There was a third girl walking beside them. Now you know how you get the pretty girl and her fat friend? Well this was the okish but lesbian couple and the fat friend. Oh how uncomfortable and left out she looked. It was sad yet I laughed far too loud on the bus as we passed them.
Dear god I've written a lot of shite and now my mum has brought me home a sandwich. Sweet free food, my life is fantastic.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
He hit so hard, I saw stars
I once had a long discussion with my French tutor about online books. Only it was him doing all the talking and me smiling and saying Je ne sais pas because I had no fucking clue what he was on about. I am most proud of that C. To pass a language you cannot speak is a marvelous thing.
Point is the only thing I did manage to say was that I prefer to own a book. I mean the downloading age is fantastic, legality issues aside. Anything you want you can find somewhere. Radiohead offered their album for whatever anyone felt like paying. Trent Reznor is offering his next album for free in a range of different formats. With downloadable pdf sleevenotes. Melissa Auf Der Maur talked about giving away her next album for free too but it looks like some sort of insane comic/album/short film concept whatsit.
I download a lot of music. Mostly because it's hard to find half the stuff in shops that isn't a ridiculous price. It was an awful awful time when Fopp shut. I've been shopping in there back when you said Fopp and people thought you were talking gibberish. Oh my mainstream friends, how I longed for them to get some sense and listen to less Blue.
Reading books online is what poverty has reduced me to. And I'm using poverty loosely because I don't pay for half the things that keeps me alive. I feel kinda guilty reading stuff for free. It's like stealing words. Saying that I'm not going to stop because dammit books ain't cheap. This morning I read Chuck Palahniuk Guts despite Joe telling me the story before anyway. Last week I read The Laughing Man by Salinger and I'm slowly working through Woolf's Night and Day and Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise. I just know if I actually had a copy to hold I could work a lot faster. Not that I'm doing any better with the books I do own but I do try.
Amazon's got this new toy.Kindle. It's a wireless reading device. Basically you buy an online book, it downloads to the thing and you read it. No more need for bulky books! No papercuts! No more knocking yourself out at night with weighty hardbacks! I don't know if these are its actual claims but I got pretty good marks in marketing in high school. Ok so it's revolutionary. It's environmentally friendly I'd imagine. It's handy and shiny and new and depresses me. It eliminates the need for bookshelves. That is where I show off my literature tastes!
Pfft to this technology age I say as I type my two hundred odd post on gorram Blogger. Pfffffft.
Point is the only thing I did manage to say was that I prefer to own a book. I mean the downloading age is fantastic, legality issues aside. Anything you want you can find somewhere. Radiohead offered their album for whatever anyone felt like paying. Trent Reznor is offering his next album for free in a range of different formats. With downloadable pdf sleevenotes. Melissa Auf Der Maur talked about giving away her next album for free too but it looks like some sort of insane comic/album/short film concept whatsit.
I download a lot of music. Mostly because it's hard to find half the stuff in shops that isn't a ridiculous price. It was an awful awful time when Fopp shut. I've been shopping in there back when you said Fopp and people thought you were talking gibberish. Oh my mainstream friends, how I longed for them to get some sense and listen to less Blue.
Reading books online is what poverty has reduced me to. And I'm using poverty loosely because I don't pay for half the things that keeps me alive. I feel kinda guilty reading stuff for free. It's like stealing words. Saying that I'm not going to stop because dammit books ain't cheap. This morning I read Chuck Palahniuk Guts despite Joe telling me the story before anyway. Last week I read The Laughing Man by Salinger and I'm slowly working through Woolf's Night and Day and Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise. I just know if I actually had a copy to hold I could work a lot faster. Not that I'm doing any better with the books I do own but I do try.
Amazon's got this new toy.Kindle. It's a wireless reading device. Basically you buy an online book, it downloads to the thing and you read it. No more need for bulky books! No papercuts! No more knocking yourself out at night with weighty hardbacks! I don't know if these are its actual claims but I got pretty good marks in marketing in high school. Ok so it's revolutionary. It's environmentally friendly I'd imagine. It's handy and shiny and new and depresses me. It eliminates the need for bookshelves. That is where I show off my literature tastes!
Pfft to this technology age I say as I type my two hundred odd post on gorram Blogger. Pfffffft.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Reasons to be beautiful
Julie says I'm not allowed to stop writing here. Her words were something like it was lame and hilarious but I'm paraphrasing so she'll probably complain I got that wrong.
I've got an awful lot to say and none of it is particularly interesting. I'm not doing anything exciting. I'm in a sort of catatonic state ignoring all the things I should be doing and being far far too cheerful to strangers. I don't know if I'm feeling like shit or feeling alright or whether I'm in utter denial. Like if I stop for a moment and think too hard I might collapse. I'm feeling awfully distant from things.
Oh I dunno. I guess I'll be happier once I start hearing from things. I'm waiting for six or seven places to tell me if they want me to work for them, I'm waiting on two magazines to reject me and I'm waiting for something to happen. Or someone to happen.
I'm immensely tired.
Basically May is kinda dull. I've an excuse to dismiss every month.
I want summer to bring me hours of writing and reading in the sun so I stop looking like the undead and I need a job. I'm so tired of being skint. But then I've never had anything to save up for. It's novel. I hate uni, it's the biggest waste of my time but at least it wastes it.
I've spent all day wailing along to nineties girl rock in a dress that hitches itself far too high on my hips that are too wide and wishing I was many inches taller and less obsessed with scouring every inch inside my own head because it's awfully dead in there. I've been waiting a long time to grow up but I can't seem to.
But it's not all bad. I'm alive and I'm trying and I don't hate everybody I see. That's got to be a good thing. I'm writing which is another good thing but there's a nagging thing in the back of my mind that tells me that none of it is good enough until some guy reads it and decides it's worth binding between some wispy photography. I'll be pulling at my fingertips until I find myself on a shelf.
I just have no idea how I'm going to get there.
I've got an awful lot to say and none of it is particularly interesting. I'm not doing anything exciting. I'm in a sort of catatonic state ignoring all the things I should be doing and being far far too cheerful to strangers. I don't know if I'm feeling like shit or feeling alright or whether I'm in utter denial. Like if I stop for a moment and think too hard I might collapse. I'm feeling awfully distant from things.
Oh I dunno. I guess I'll be happier once I start hearing from things. I'm waiting for six or seven places to tell me if they want me to work for them, I'm waiting on two magazines to reject me and I'm waiting for something to happen. Or someone to happen.
I'm immensely tired.
Basically May is kinda dull. I've an excuse to dismiss every month.
I want summer to bring me hours of writing and reading in the sun so I stop looking like the undead and I need a job. I'm so tired of being skint. But then I've never had anything to save up for. It's novel. I hate uni, it's the biggest waste of my time but at least it wastes it.
I've spent all day wailing along to nineties girl rock in a dress that hitches itself far too high on my hips that are too wide and wishing I was many inches taller and less obsessed with scouring every inch inside my own head because it's awfully dead in there. I've been waiting a long time to grow up but I can't seem to.
But it's not all bad. I'm alive and I'm trying and I don't hate everybody I see. That's got to be a good thing. I'm writing which is another good thing but there's a nagging thing in the back of my mind that tells me that none of it is good enough until some guy reads it and decides it's worth binding between some wispy photography. I'll be pulling at my fingertips until I find myself on a shelf.
I just have no idea how I'm going to get there.
Friday, May 2, 2008
The world moves with me
I am growing increasingly tired of this page and of all pages really. I can't even try something interesting with this because you guys know I ain't going insane/dead.
SIGH
I think there are two problems.
One the sun has come out and I spend my afternoons in my back room with my doors open writing while my mum irons. Kinda like when I was little and I would sit at my teeny table and watch my mum iron while I made play dough stuff. I have to dodge the rain, true, but eventually I will look less like a corpse. Or at least a corpse with freckles. FRECKLES. I should not get that excited about them, I know, but whatever.
Two I found somewhere else to say the things I actually want to say but I'm too chickenshit to tell you.
The third and I can't be bothered editing to make it seem like I actually gave this some thought instead of my usual HERE IS SOME EMPTY SPACE FILL IT UP WITH AWESOME, the third is simply I never keep a journal anywhere for any length of time. This one I've kept alive since September. That's a pretty big achievement. I'm not saying I'm killing this off just yet, just I've hovered over the delete button one too many times that I thought I should say something. Some sort of warning unlike my other one that I just wiped clean one morning. It's pretty much the urge
In other news I hate Cadbury's. If I have to listen to Queen one more fucking time in my own home I will probably not do anything but scowl and mute the tv some more. I have my reasons, reasons that inspire shuddering and rage. Also why does everyone go on and on about Judd Apatow films? I mean did I miss something. Since when did slapping from the director of 40 year old virgin mean fuck yes this must be great. It was an awful film! The only highlight was Billy Boyd saw it too and I got to say far too loudly "holy crap it is Pippin!" I mean he gave Russell Brand a film role. I just felt these things needed to be said.
SIGH
I think there are two problems.
One the sun has come out and I spend my afternoons in my back room with my doors open writing while my mum irons. Kinda like when I was little and I would sit at my teeny table and watch my mum iron while I made play dough stuff. I have to dodge the rain, true, but eventually I will look less like a corpse. Or at least a corpse with freckles. FRECKLES. I should not get that excited about them, I know, but whatever.
Two I found somewhere else to say the things I actually want to say but I'm too chickenshit to tell you.
The third and I can't be bothered editing to make it seem like I actually gave this some thought instead of my usual HERE IS SOME EMPTY SPACE FILL IT UP WITH AWESOME, the third is simply I never keep a journal anywhere for any length of time. This one I've kept alive since September. That's a pretty big achievement. I'm not saying I'm killing this off just yet, just I've hovered over the delete button one too many times that I thought I should say something. Some sort of warning unlike my other one that I just wiped clean one morning. It's pretty much the urge
In other news I hate Cadbury's. If I have to listen to Queen one more fucking time in my own home I will probably not do anything but scowl and mute the tv some more. I have my reasons, reasons that inspire shuddering and rage. Also why does everyone go on and on about Judd Apatow films? I mean did I miss something. Since when did slapping from the director of 40 year old virgin mean fuck yes this must be great. It was an awful film! The only highlight was Billy Boyd saw it too and I got to say far too loudly "holy crap it is Pippin!" I mean he gave Russell Brand a film role. I just felt these things needed to be said.
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