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[08 Nov 2004|10:11am] |
Immediately cheered up when I went out last night. I pulled my hair into a band and stepped into the vibrancy of night and rain, walking shimmering pavements, with the thin sheets of droplets falling slow through the streetlights.
The Bell contained within it's walls Bolb and Stoney. I quickly and easily completed the child's punctuation task I had been given (it featured colons with faces, arms and legs, designed to simplify the lesson), and we sat together discussing the heavy issues pressing their weight onto the world.
And we also drew loads of fucking doodles on a piece of A4, laughing. Cats, architecture (Courtsey of Vincenzo), and er....various types of CHART.
What fun. Ended up talking to Bolb about the sub concious influence on a child growing up of the literature it is presented with. May find out more. Fascinating subject.
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[08 Nov 2004|10:51am] |
Cloudy from Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children on the wallpaper. Where can I get hair like that? An animation studio.
Work and college today. I'm not looking forward to my essay grading. It was crap, frankly. Rambling pieces of assumption, thrown at the page like pebbles hurled at a drunk by children.
Can imagine Bronte spinning in her grave, cackling in a Yorkshire accent: "That's not what it's about, you FOOL!", then rising from the ground to absorb the souls of all.
Perhaps not.
I like to watch Des at the window, waiting to get in. His mawkish face staring at me, looking around as if trying to find a way to open the window, standing on hind legs pawing uselessly at the glass silently opening his mouth, and breathing des mist onto the double glazing.
Then he goes back to pitifully eyeballing me. After the millionth noiseless mieow, I relent and open the window laughing.
"Alright Des?"
Straight into the living room, to sniff at crumbs. Fuck's sake.
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[08 Nov 2004|11:07am] |
Psst...it's time I was gone. Work. If it's as busy as last Monday's ridiculous forty two people, I shall not be happy. At least I have no pressing homework to do between work and college.
Now I must really change and wash. These boxers are barely intact, and so are beginning to be potential cause for embarrassment.
Should probably buy new underwear.
Toodley.
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| Quote of the week. |
[08 Nov 2004|03:42pm] |
David, in the kitchen, on the subject of the Backstreet Boy's "All I have to give"
""Do his gifts come from the heart?"; No, they come from fucking Argos"
That was witty. I liked that.
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[08 Nov 2004|03:50pm] |
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mood |
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Er, yes...work...what a fun day. It was as horridly drawn out as ever, exacerbated by the broom SHATTERING into splinters in my stupid hands whilst I was sweeping, leaving me to scrape the floor with the remains...which were about as useful as using a toothbrush to bail out the ocean. In contrast, I got BIG LAUGHS by doing a perfect rendition of "Mmm mmmm mmm mmm" by one time guitar twiddlers the Crash Test Dummies. With a little lyrical modification it is a comedy goldmine.
My wrists ache. I have college tonight, and have to endure train carriages full of squawking tracksuited imbeciles, and that's if the fucking thing arrives.
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[08 Nov 2004|04:28pm] |
Okay, then. It is time. I must walk the streets, endure the trains, and suffer the idiotics of the chavs and depart for college. I shall look forward to my stepping into the Bell tonight.
For now, that is all.
Be good. Like I knew you would now. Uh......huh huh.
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