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[29 Oct 2004|09:19am] |
Now, then. I always write more on the road about being out that what I do here. All sorts of things about driving rains and pitter patter of my feet as I made for the Bell yesterday.
The rings, that was it...rings appearing hither and thither, disappearing almost as immediately as they were made, like sinking tiger lilies.
Invisible after falling. I arrived at the Bell to discover a small amount of people, frankly. Sat at the bar and removed my book from it's bag, sliding onto my stool and running my fingers down the pages, mouthing the words as if trying to prove to myself that I understood this literary teeth pulling excercise better.
I didn't realy. I know a lot, yet I know nothing. I'm intelligent, yet a thicko. I have immeasurable wit, yet a knothole in a tree could outwit me.
It's growing tedious, this homework. I still have an essay to shit out. There was little else to report, really. Now why don't you go and read the archives at http://www.somethingawful.com.
You will find much to amuse you. These people are good.
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[29 Oct 2004|10:34am] |
Right, I think i'm going to delay homework until the weekend, get some wine, and get smashed watching this fucking trilogy of LOTR that's arrived.
Seems like a good plan. You lot can amuse yourselves in whatever ways you see fit.
This is very nice. Should I spend all day watching these, lying prostate and eating food, wearing a coat and drinking chain cups of tea? Yes.
Now to think of the best way of chaining tea. I think i'll knock a big hole through to the kitchen from the living room and get a big fake hand to make tea with.
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[29 Oct 2004|10:46am] |
Word of the day: Vivacious.
Full of charm and animation. A jewelley shop with cartoon characters in.
Now piss off! I've got fantasy to lose myself in!
Granger in the mangers.
You baffle me with charm. Seriously.
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[29 Oct 2004|03:30pm] |
The misinterpratation of media and journalism is easily the most hilarious, but possibly dangerous aspect of our lives, things can be manipulated on the adjacency of a picture and a headline.
For instance, in the local county paper, we read the headline "I hit him until he stopped moving", from which we can ascertain that this story pertains to an assault of some kind.
However, this front page headline has no photograph to speak of, bar the one on the inserted story regarding a man who has grown a fucking massive pumpkin. Now, due to wretchedly bad typesetting, immediate glancing at the paper has the reader thinking: "What the fuck is this smiling man with a massive pumpkin doing beaiting men senseless with it? Has he no shame? He's even smiling! It's all a bit flippantly presented!"
And then you realise the stories are in fact seperate.
I feel good today. Handsome, in fact. I've no idea why. I haven't felt chronically bad looking now for a while, which is frankly the longest time for a while. Something must be in the air. I have my hair restrained back and out of my damned eyes, which are peering at several windows of essay writing and Blurty screens.
I was distracted from this task when I ventured away to watch LOTR's first two chapters, have some lunch, and think about putting loads of cherry tomatoes in a tea cosy.
I am without doubt not trying very hard, but I have written some decent stuff in a few minutes of self brainstorming.
Ok, back to it.
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[29 Oct 2004|05:10pm] |
I have written 494 words of a required 1,000, and I have two days more to complete this, as well as knock together some more brilliant analysis on the feminist text.
So we're good. I may get some more done at the Bell tonight, though I may also get wankered and enjoy the weekend. After all, I have rare Saturday off. And almost certainly Sunday. That's not set in stone, but it's nearly definate.
If I wrote the things I thought when watching LOTR in real time, I would have a parody of enviable hilarity. You wouldn't believe the terrible things I imagine. However, you can if you pay attention find much to chortle at in the actual films. For instance, if you so desire, seek this piece of dialogue from "Two Towers":
"We ain't 'ad nuthin' but maggoty bread for THREE STINKIN' DAYESSS!"
Not only is the word maggoty amusing, the accent on the word "Stinking" is a guffaw to behold. Listen to it! TELL ME YOU DON'T LAUGH AT HIS DRAWL! WATCH IT!
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[29 Oct 2004|06:10pm] |
Dad's building some mawkishly sterile looking D.I.Y bookcase thing, with apparently painted "wood" finish, and a horrid gluey smell.
It also looks as thin as crepe paper. I happen to think it'll collapse soon as so much as a leaflet is dropped onto it's fragile surface.
In any rate, it is appalling, and I have no wish to look at it anymore. So I will not, instead turning to the brilliance of the www.b3ta.com newsletter. I suggest you do likewise. It makes Fridays bearable. And you DO like kittens, right? If not, you'll like it anyway. You strangers of the night.
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[29 Oct 2004|07:01pm] |
That'll be about it for this evening. I'm hoping you will all be bright and alert tomorrow, as I most certainly will not be, needing in that case; some balance of energy to make up for my shambling tiredness that will no doubt descend in the morning.
I'm hoping to avoid tobacco buying. I did yesterday, but purchased cigars instead, which is either better or worse, I can't tell quite which. These have only five smokes a packet, but are stronger. You tell me? Time vs strength? At any rate, I need to read this fucking book. I wish i'd had the pleasure of reading it without the albatross of literay analysis to contend with, perhaps then I could have enjoyed it. It IS brilliant, after all.
Okay, thrushes of the grange.
Night.
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