Right Now.
5. Elephant Gun - Beirut
4. I'm A Cuckoo - Belle & Sebastian
3. Michael - Franz Ferdinand
2. Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies
1. Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - The Velvet Underground
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Faceless
Walking home today, it started to rain. I put up my hood, and carried on walking. At some point it stopped raining, but I didn't notice and kept my hood up until I got home.
When I was walking down my street, the more people I passed, the more I noticed something. They kept trying to look at my face. I swear. I don't know... maybe it was just me thinking they were, but I don't usual notice people actively peering to see my face.
I think the fact that it was obscured in my hood meant that people were curious. What was I hiding? Am I disfigured? Am I a troll? Am I a cat who has grown a human body and stolen a coat in an attempt to integrate herself into human society, if only she can keep her face concealed for long enough - oh, please don't find out my secret!
This really, really annoyed me for some reason. In fact, it made me want to hide my face more. Why are you trying to looking at my face? What right do you have to look at my face? Fuck all, that's what.
Is it so you can judge me by what I look like? When I'm wearing relatively non-gender specific clothes and a hood I'm relatively anonymous, class-less, identity-less... do you need to make an assessment? I tell you what you need to do, you need to mind your own godamn business.
Next time, I'm wearing a burkha.
When I was walking down my street, the more people I passed, the more I noticed something. They kept trying to look at my face. I swear. I don't know... maybe it was just me thinking they were, but I don't usual notice people actively peering to see my face.
I think the fact that it was obscured in my hood meant that people were curious. What was I hiding? Am I disfigured? Am I a troll? Am I a cat who has grown a human body and stolen a coat in an attempt to integrate herself into human society, if only she can keep her face concealed for long enough - oh, please don't find out my secret!
This really, really annoyed me for some reason. In fact, it made me want to hide my face more. Why are you trying to looking at my face? What right do you have to look at my face? Fuck all, that's what.
Is it so you can judge me by what I look like? When I'm wearing relatively non-gender specific clothes and a hood I'm relatively anonymous, class-less, identity-less... do you need to make an assessment? I tell you what you need to do, you need to mind your own godamn business.
Next time, I'm wearing a burkha.
Monday, 2 November 2009
Taxidermy
This is a bit of my large piece of writing which I am currently embarking on. I shan't call it a novel because firstly, even if it did make sense and have characters and a plot - 50,000 words is not enough to be a novel anyway, it's a novella. The second reason being that I don't want the stress of having impending novelistship on my brain. I just write shite, and I'm happy with that for now. Here is how I decided to begin my writing:
You know that joke about a woman who dreams that she’s eating a marshmallow and when she wakes up she’s eaten half her pillow? I believe that this is the third-easiest way to become a piece of human taxidermy. The second-easiest is to work in a pub. Bear with me. Don’t bare with me, we don’t know each other well enough yet...
In terms of stuffing, over time your body is filled with bitter wadding; your head in particular crammed with knowledge, intuition and a general distain for the drinking (cl)asses. Skin becomes pickled through regular dousings of alcohol; pints spilled, drinks thrown, and Pepsi-gun fights. Congratulations, you might as well be a squirrel on a toff’s mantelpiece.
You know that joke about a woman who dreams that she’s eating a marshmallow and when she wakes up she’s eaten half her pillow? I believe that this is the third-easiest way to become a piece of human taxidermy. The second-easiest is to work in a pub. Bear with me. Don’t bare with me, we don’t know each other well enough yet...
In terms of stuffing, over time your body is filled with bitter wadding; your head in particular crammed with knowledge, intuition and a general distain for the drinking (cl)asses. Skin becomes pickled through regular dousings of alcohol; pints spilled, drinks thrown, and Pepsi-gun fights. Congratulations, you might as well be a squirrel on a toff’s mantelpiece.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
NaNoWriMo
Much like Cissy M, I've decided to have a go at NaNoWriMo this year. Basically it involves writing your arse off, to what will certainly be an awful result.. but a result none the less.
I have no plan except for the words my brain produces when I put tea into it and tap my hands on this board of keys. I'm already behind, and I've got an essay to write for Monday.
I'm not particularly optimistic about the whole thing, but the point is, I'm having a go... and why not? Wish me luck!
I have no plan except for the words my brain produces when I put tea into it and tap my hands on this board of keys. I'm already behind, and I've got an essay to write for Monday.
I'm not particularly optimistic about the whole thing, but the point is, I'm having a go... and why not? Wish me luck!
Thursday, 29 October 2009
Carnations
Judge me for being snobby and ungrateful for this viewpoint if you will, but I believe the majority of women feel the same way.
I think it’s about time I justified my hatred of carnations. Christ I hate these flowers so much. They’re cheap and nasty, used as a cheap way to bulk out a bouquet. It's not so much the appearance of the flower as the sentiments that it has come to represent that I dislike.
When my Grandma died and I chose the flowers, I made sure any carnations in the arrangements were replaced with white roses. (If anyone puts carnations in my funeral flowers, I’m coming back to haunt you.) I would never give my grandmother anything I considered to be so awfully half-hearted.
That’s exactly what they are – the half-hearted option. If you’re going to buy someone flowers, you should buy ones that look the nicest – isn’t that the whole point? It’s the difference between giving someone a box of chocolates and giving them a giving someone a puppy and giving them a mouldy rat. One is noticeably, and widely recognised as cheaper and less thoughtful than the other.
You give someone flowers to show that you care, you give them carnations to show that you want to look like you care… but not enough to spend more than a fiver, or, to consider the preferences of the person they're for.
I’m just stating the facts, yo.
Edit: Ok, so I found some quite nice pictures of carnations whilst looking for a pictures to go with this post. I have decided that these statements apply to the cheapy carnations that you most often find. I'm sure that like everything, if done well they're OK. (But I still hate them.)
I think it’s about time I justified my hatred of carnations. Christ I hate these flowers so much. They’re cheap and nasty, used as a cheap way to bulk out a bouquet. It's not so much the appearance of the flower as the sentiments that it has come to represent that I dislike.
When my Grandma died and I chose the flowers, I made sure any carnations in the arrangements were replaced with white roses. (If anyone puts carnations in my funeral flowers, I’m coming back to haunt you.) I would never give my grandmother anything I considered to be so awfully half-hearted.
That’s exactly what they are – the half-hearted option. If you’re going to buy someone flowers, you should buy ones that look the nicest – isn’t that the whole point? It’s the difference between giving someone a box of chocolates and giving them a giving someone a puppy and giving them a mouldy rat. One is noticeably, and widely recognised as cheaper and less thoughtful than the other.
You give someone flowers to show that you care, you give them carnations to show that you want to look like you care… but not enough to spend more than a fiver, or, to consider the preferences of the person they're for.
I’m just stating the facts, yo.
Edit: Ok, so I found some quite nice pictures of carnations whilst looking for a pictures to go with this post. I have decided that these statements apply to the cheapy carnations that you most often find. I'm sure that like everything, if done well they're OK. (But I still hate them.)
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Monday, 26 October 2009
Happy Second Birthday, Blog!
This blog is officially 2 years old today. I'm beginning to wonder if it's a good or a bad thing that I've been posting this rhubarb for such a long time, but either way, I've enjoyed it.
Who knows what the terrible twos may bring!
Who knows what the terrible twos may bring!
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