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[27 Oct 2004|09:13am] |
Another yawn through the cloudy disaster zone that is Wednesday. Bolb's birthday celebration proper is tonight at the Chinese place in Margate, followed by boisterous shouting and drinking somewhere else, I shouldn't wonder.
Last night however we were in the Bell, where Stuart arrived and shovelled shiny packages at Bolb, containing lofty delights. A Donnie Darko dvd, a group of small gelatinous frogs, a windy globule.....thing...
Lots of fun. And Vince later sat with us, looking bemused at the table struggling with objects. He probably thought he'd gone to some absurd drunken boot sale by mistake.
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[27 Oct 2004|09:57am] |
For those as yet unfamiliar, 123cards are the favourite greeting card site of your own Bolb and Phylly. Their greeting cards have the most hilarious and fundamentally excellent cheery flash cards ever. One, because the animation usually comprises eyeballed shapes looking sinister despite apparently happy smiles...and two, the music sounds like it was composed by a recently divorced children's keyboardist, with a drink problem and an addiction to David Cronenberg films. It's fucking warped, man.
For our Wednesday lesson, we will be studying these brilliant cards.
Firslty, we have an apparently normal, if desolately themed "Missing you" card...the woman stands alone on the beach, to spice it up I have written a message underneath, in the way only I know how. Well, in the way I MAKE it up anyway.
It gets better though. Here's a birthday invite card, with inciteful language added to take the joyous sheen off.
Ho ho.
You will know by now that the words I write underneath pertain to what I think the cards should be saying, when I look at the dead eyes of the freakish animation and feel their underpinning pain. Like in this "Kiss and make up" card, designed for the sickeningly desperate. Whatever happened to a screaming argument?
Need a hug? Swivel.
And romantic suggestion takes a downward spiral here...
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[27 Oct 2004|11:10am] |
Clicking on the "Random" journal button is becoming increasingly like taking part in an apple bobbing contest, composed of excrement and rotten fruit.
Journals for journals sake. A particular diary even featured an entry composed of random smashing of keys, thusly "kjhjkhak", or something very similar. Anywhere on the key map, does't matter.
I'm supposed to be doing homework. Haven't as yet got anywhere. I really can't be fucking bothered, to tell you the truth. This is what worries me the most.
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| Like pulling spiked hairs out of wounded flesh..... |
[27 Oct 2004|01:45pm] |
Here I sit, utterly devoid of anything approaching wit this afternoon. Had I the patience and the time, I could happily read Wuthering Heights through extensively and write quite the essay, as well as explaining the fundamental elements of a feminist's critique of the thing.
But I don't have the time. I'm going to have to simply make up a whole load of old bollocks, and fling that into the eyes and ears of the class.
So far we have discussed Emily's reasons for writing this novel, though this does not get to the mechanics of it very well. We're only displaying reasons. We need to know about the characters, and their subversion of attitudes.
For example, if we look at again, the comparative lifestyles of Isabella and Cahthering, two females of apparently very similar age, but with extremely different attitudes and characteristics. If we also look at the relationship of Cathy and Heathcliff, in comparison to the one's she later has with Edgar especially, there is evidence here that Catherine is falling into the steretype of her society, and is becoming a kept woman. There is great evidence of this in the displays she gives as Heathcliff returns and she reports his arrival to her husband, to await his approval. Her youthful uprising is for the moment vanished, and she becomes that which she at some point must have hated being. Indeed, she still does.
Heathcliff as a tool is excellent too here, he is very much on a par with Cathy as to the rebellious wayward actions...his support to Catherine - that is reciprocated - give the reader much of a feeling that he is very much assisting the cause here. He is almost a feminist character, as he is also here fighting an opressive force and hierarchy, in parallel and concurrence with Cathering. They combat this together, and her power over him as being the more accepted is useful too to her.
Groan.....now come on Phylly, you're repeating yourself.
What?
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[27 Oct 2004|02:30pm] |
Hope you enjoy my frankly warped e-card, honey. With any luck it'll coax you into an uprising against goatee boy Jeff.
Okay, it's half two! I'm going to take a leave for a while and get some tobacco and money, in the reverse order. Stay good for me, lunch bunchers.
Bye for now.
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[27 Oct 2004|04:12pm] |
Dispiriting walk through the streets to get some money. The concrete underneath harsh under my feet, the wind mocking. I am dying with the light, and autumn is no recompense.
Really, i'm so bored. Still, this should be alleviated later when we busy ourselves with going to Margate and listening to Stuart yelling, occasionally getting in words of our own.
I don't know when we're going yet, though. I suppose I should get ready soon. Right, now, back to the stiflingly tedious spiritless homework.
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[27 Oct 2004|04:29pm] |
There is a worrying tendency in my writing at the moment to get irritable and impatient with it and simply cut away whole sections of detail. I'm getting annoyed and impatient far too often. And it's affecting me very badly.
I'm tense again. Shifting noises, background movements, ringing phones, televisions, and my own clumsy typing are getting well and truly on my nerves, and my blood is heating up.
And I cannot write. I tried three times to come up with something, but angrily and abruptly deleted it time and time again, with deepening hatred for the shit I was creating.
Not good. I am not creative today.
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[27 Oct 2004|05:20pm] |
Tonight we'll take a dance,
on the black lit sea
the moon underneath
lighting up our feet
I'll press my lips to your thought,
of what could happen if we drown.
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[27 Oct 2004|05:27pm] |
What an earth am I going to do with my hair tonight? I do not dare tie it back in a Bolb band, for fear of attracting accusations of "OI! GIRL!", from the zombie imbecile hoardes.
That said, I don't want it sticking out the back like a broken ceiling fan either. I may have to think on this.
I wonder if she has any black hairbands......
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| Love is......... |
[27 Oct 2004|05:43pm] |
"You know how we've been going out now for a while"
"Yeah?"
"It's been good, really good..."
"I think so hon, we're good together....perfect in fact."
"Mmmmm...there's one thing I haven't told you...."
"What is it? I'm sure it's fine..."
"Ok.....heh...i'm worrying for nothing....okay.....I make bandstands from the flesh of stray dogs...heh...BONKERS EH? Knew deep down you'd be okay about it..."
"........................."
"Ah,.............honey?"
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| I've had this for fifty years...... |
[27 Oct 2004|05:49pm] |
"Son....................."
"Yes, dad?"
"You're....my son.........my only...beloved son...."
"Thanks dad...."
"I think...now is the time..."
".........really?"
"Yes...it's about right......that I now give you.....my collection of antique painted ducks...they're so old and rare that nobody has seen them for years...and they're priceless....."
"Dad...this is...this is amazing...thank you...."
"You deserve it...I hope one day you'll give them to your..........SON?"
"Hehehehehh *rub rub rub*"
"..............................i don't believe it....you're sandpapering the features off, they're RUINED........ALL OF THEM"
"Hey dad! Catch *Tinkle*....shit...sorry....hey....this paint comes off really easily, fucking botch job mate...look at the cunts......."
"*Weep*................"
"Dad? You okay?"
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| Love Is............... |
[27 Oct 2004|05:54pm] |
"He was so charming.....so funny and sensitive...I was totally besotted.........."
"That's great...so....why on earth did you call it off?"
"He used to play the flute during every orgasm"
"...........................is that so bad?"
"It was the theme from "The Avengers"
"oh."
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| Songs to make you feel giddy.... |
[27 Oct 2004|06:07pm] |
These are my songs of the moment. I think it's time to resurrect it, for musical discussion and "look at my fucking music, much better than the charts, wasn't like that in my day when we had luminaries like Cj Lewis, etc......"
Of course that's all arseholes, but I do like my chart. I may, if you're very sweet and lucky, do a new UK chart apocalypse. Throw some bodily fluids around like lager at a bachelor party to this fucking lot:
1. Vertigo - U2
Okay, it's not a classic. Okay, so Bono is starting to sound as if he's sniggering through a pipe occasionally, and he's started to say silly things again, but it's still a scratchy beautifully horny rock record. He's still singing, they're still playing well. And it works. The album won't have much to top it. And it's the first Phylly number one of the new CHART, bufallo Bills.
2. Misty - Ella Fitzgerald.
You know it. It's been my favourite love song for a long time. If I ever find my true love (Oh for fuck's sake, you weepy twee sod - Readers), then it's going to mean even more than it does already. This will be my song.
3. Stripped - Rammstein.
Handsome beats rigidly merged to synth melody bliss, with this addictive cover of Depeche Mode.
4. Final Fantasy VII - Main Theme - Nobou Uematsu
Yes....it's the best. You could sling it into any fantasy film and it'd have a place in it's heart. Even Mel likes it. In her words..."It sounds like the song in "Indecent Proposal". What?
5. Melodies of Life/Final Fantasy Theme - Perfectly charming little end game ballad and FF theme slung together like a bargain bucket of melody.
That's it for this week. Stinking around are various LOTR tunes, and we'll see if they break in next week. Or when I can be fucked to go all chart like again. Probably not, then.
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[27 Oct 2004|06:22pm] |
Right, you horrible fucking lot! Stop shuffling like boiling eggs and shut it, right! I'm going to get ready for a night on and off the tiles, so do what you do, and go about your lives as you see fit, and i'll tell you all about fucking well it, TOMORROW morning.
Alright? Smash me please, foul disease!
Good evening to you sirs and ladies. SPIKE THE GRAVY!
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