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[17 Nov 2003|09:56am] |
A few divisions have sprouted up again amongst the evening Bell folk. I have no idea quite why this involves me but i no longer care.
It's just a "fuck you" attitude i've developed, and it's served me well recently. I no longer lose my head or my temper so often as a result of the stresses incurred from other people. I'm calm enough to be happy and get on with my own fucking life.
Hair Watch:
Still short. It hasn't moved an PICO INCH since last night! Damn.
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[17 Nov 2003|06:17pm] |
A largely non-interesting day, noticeable only for an incident I don’t really want to mention, as I may just shatter the keyboard into micro dust.
However, I am as I said before a much more relaxed and contemplative person than I ever have been, so none of this really to me for a prolonged amount of time. This is a wonderful change to the person who a few months ago boiled the anger inside and released it in the most unenviable fashion. Now I just face it with a defiant attitude and a singing amble. Which during last night’s walk home I think was Frank Sinatra.
Anyway, prior to that melodically influenced walk I was camped in the Bell Inn as you know, with Howard, Bolb, and Roy. We spent the evening drawing rude pictures when quite clearly I should have been working on my Macbeth essay. I’ve done some more of that today, which I’m not too happy with, apart from the fact that it now has some semblance of order. I’m quite happy with that. I have the bones to work on, in other words.
I think I can pull this essay off; I know I can, I’m just rather lazy with resource material. The play is a wondrous and timeless, bloody and visceral epic, but I cannot penetrate the mind of Shakespeare enough to find six fucking reasons why he includes witches. Anti Catholic controversy? The physical manifestation of a man’s mental battle between good and evil? The superstition element? Does all this give the writer carte blanche to weave other supernatural things into the rest of this play? Such as the ghost of Banquo? Hmm… at least I don’t have to have the damned thing finished this week. It’s a relief to have the bare necessities sketched out. And I’ve started re-writing the play in a modern style; Bolb was required to do this for her English GCSE, whilst she attended school. So I’m going to have a go, though this is not required on my particular curriculum.
Perhaps this will help me to understand the play better. Or maybe I’ll just get some big fucking cheapo laughs out of it.
I’m betting the latter.
Oh yes, I forgot. We spent an hour at Roy’s in a shouting one way argument with several of the Solar System’s bigger gaseous giants. That fucking Jupiter, always taking the limelight. What does he know about being a fucking planet? He hasn’t even got a solid core! Wanker.
This was what you could have expected. You should know that by now, really.
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