Swim In Pool Supply by Roadsidepictures [cc]

Feeling a bit better today, or at least less bone-crushingly sad. Spent most of the day reading through my form's reports - thirty, five-page reports the joy - and correcting and rewriting any portions that needed it. Only three were error-free. Sigh.

It's comforting to find that my tutees who are obnoxious towards me are badly behaved in other classes, though it doesn't make my heart any lighter at all. Ugh. I now have to write comments about all of the little darlings for first thing Friday and collate their commendations for the year and their accomplishments.

Post-correcting I watched a couple of documentaries about Las Vegas; over a glass of white I day - or evening-dreamed - about a holiday under the hot Nevada sun. I imagined staying in the Four Seasons Las Vegas, spending time eating and drinking a lot (buffets make me excitable), being blindingly pasty whilst reading Scandinavian crime fiction on a lounger by the pool before heading out into the desert to get up close and intimate with some sandstone. I also imagined wandering about without having to worry about taking a cardigan with me and slowly getting very drunk on a frozen Margarita that came in a glass the size of a goldfish bowl.

I thought of waking up next to the one I love and sleepy, beer-tinged kisses out in the desert under a blanket of stars above; I imagined laughing loudly and a lot, and not having to worry about things so much. Sigh.

Well, at least this unobtainable fantasy is more obtainable than my month in Hawai'i. Excellent.

monky posted 278 words at 23:42 on 7/03/10

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Don't Get Around Much Anymore
1957
Nat King Cole

Saturday night at home with Patrick and a glass of white; spent the day in Lahndahn tahn with my Mum - Service at Canteen was shoddy again but food was good; it was as usual great to see my Mum. Spent much of the day ranting about things and feeling increasingly fed up and sad as the day wore on - too many people at the Courtauld Gallery, being ignored by waiters, prevented from having tea and cake by misinformed National Gallery Café staff.

Working hard for little reward, being ashamed of my living environs, the stupidity and wilful ignorance of the rest of the planet and men being permanently juvenile just added to the joy-fest.

I'm all happy and smiley at work, but that's not the case when i'm out of the classroom; I feel tired all the goddamned time too. When we were at the Royal Festival Hall today I had to fight to stop myself crying at the rather great school band that was playing in the ballroom; a Sixth Former sang Don't Get Around Much Anymore, which was waaay too close to the bone for my brain. FOR FUCKS SAKE.

Anyway, i'm home with the one "man" that will commit to me, Patrick, the non-ambulatory, non-breathing soft toy, and i'm listening to the silken butter that is Nat King Cole's voice and am feeling very small and sad. The world is sl-o-o-w-ly crushing me it seems at the moment. Fun times all round!

monky posted 259 words at 23:06 on 6/03/10 | (0)

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I've not written about the whole MW#1 situation for a while as, frankly, there is nothing of note to comment on. The Great Silence continues unabated and aside from a few texts now and then i've seen hide nor hair of him for getting on seven months.

Two months back I suggested that we meet to discuss the months that have passed, the current situation and possible futures; I wasn't after a final resolution, just some dialogue but MW#1's apparent policy of sticking his head in the sand for as long as he can possibly manage has not led to us meeting up but has resulted in my anger, frustration and sadness. Just for a change.

So i've said that if we've not managed to meet up by the end of March then i'm going to walk. So that gives him, oooh, five weeks in which to find I dunno, one afternoon? Six hours?I do not consider this an unreasonable request, especially as his unreasonable behaviour has precipitated my response. Jeebus, it would be nice not to be let down by him.

I feel I have no option. I'm not going to ask him to meet up- he is aware of what i've asked for; he's got to do the arranging as i'm fed up with always always always being the one running around doing the arranging. I've spent years doing the inviting, so i'm not going to do it any more.

What i'll do if we haven't met to talk and the 31st rolls around I am not quite sure; he's got a few weeks until then so I guess i'll just have to take it how I see it as the deadline looms. Ugh, the joy...

monky posted 288 words at 22:37 on 4/03/10 | (0)

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New pretty I have spied (when supposedly "writing reports"): Keira. Scottish designer who specialises in leatherwork, but not of your typical biker jacket-type.

If I had a spare £500 i'd love a leather cape or gold metallic bomber jacket - trust me, it's awesome - but my more limited budget has me lusting after the £32 Wrist Bow...

From the fabulous Bordello of London and Boudiche of Edinburgh

monky posted 70 words at 22:29 on 1/03/10 | (0)

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WATCH THIS ALL THE WAY THROUGH:



William Lamson via Boing Boing

monky posted 11 words at 23:24 on 28/02/10 | (0)

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Observer - Getting away with murder? The death of Martine Vik Magnussen

"When a vivacious Norwegian woman was found raped and strangled in the basement of a London flat, suspicion fell on a fellow student. But two years on, the case remains unsolved. We reconstruct her last night from interviews and previously unseen pictures, and speak to her father about his campaign to find justice for Martine Vik Magnussen"

monky posted 69 words at 11:55 on 28/02/10 | (0)

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Bobsledding. I loves it. Watching four men whizz down icy half-tubes shouldn't be so entertaining; alas the GB team lost it on a corner and ended up overturning :(

Corners eleven through thirteen on the Whistler Olympic track are dangerous, with the in-running speed high and corner thirteen sharp; the exit causes the sleds to lean dangerously to the right and so many sleds end up tipping into the wall and then overturning.

It's always a big crash and if they do manage to keep upright at the very least their team get a hell of a hit on their helmets. Scary. It's always rather worrying to see the sled speeding down the track belly up and then you have to wait as the rescue teams use hooks to pull the sled upright to see if all the occupants are in one piece.

Bobsledders embody my ideal man pretty much- well-built, powerful, broad-chested and shouldered with perhaps a little extra padding for insulation. Not ripped or terribly defined, just sort of capable looking. Sturdy. Oh and they wear skin-tight Lycra :D

monky posted 181 words at 11:51 on 27/02/10 | (0)

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"Me and 9 feet of Manwich!"

NSFW Terry Richardson's Diary

monky posted 10 words at 23:00 on 25/02/10 | (0)

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Stella McCartney's Tilda Playing set - FLOCKING, animal print and mesh! CUTE! CUTE! CUTE!

From NSFW Coco de Mer

Also, Lascivious at Figleaves...

monky posted 24 words at 23:02 on 24/02/10 | (0)

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I have just finished watching the most upsetting documentary I think I have ever seen and I am an emotional wreck. Nay, it's the most upsetting film I have ever seen:

Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father

It is a horrifying tale which I can't really sum up particularly well here (go to the Wikipedia link); a man - Andrew Bagby - broke up with a sociopathic woman who then shot and killed him, fled the country whilst pregnant with his child and was let out on bail before being given custody of said child when it was born, all whilst the slowly turning wheels of justice fucked things up repeatedly.

The grief, pain and anger contained within the film is deeply, deeply upsetting and what makes it worse is that these negative emotions are contrasted with the beautiful, all-encompassing love shown by those mourning Andrew's death. It's made by a childhood friend of the victim and oozes love, cataloguing memories of Andrew for his son Zachary.

I found it an extremely diffifult thing to watch but I would urge anyone to take the time to see it, to better understand love, pain, hate and justice. It's available on the iPlayer this week.

Dear Zachary: Official Site

monky posted 212 words at 22:22 on 23/02/10 | (0)

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Cheryl (formerly) Kerl on Twitter

The Nation's "Actual Bodily Harm but not racialist of course" Sweetheart.

Typical entries include:

"Aall these storees aboot wor Ash? Well it ill befits uz tuh commint. One prefaws tuh rees aburve meeah tittil-tattil man pet."

"Ah someteimes think Ah should pack in mei music an gan an dee summat moa worthwhile. Leike mebbes woak in Human Resaosaz."

"Mei produca seys Ah'm layin doon sum killah choons an veebs in the studieu. Man, burrAh havven a scooby doo wharreez on aboot"

monky posted 88 words at 18:24 on 23/02/10 | (0)

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Why is Great Britain good at sliding at 90mph on a tea tray? WOO! Well done Amy Williams...

BBC Sport - Winter Olympics - Skeleton

monky posted 25 words at 01:30 on 20/02/10 | (0)

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Sizzle by Sean Rogers [cc]

I have discovered that hot showers are like liquid hugs. I go under the water and into arms that hold me feeling glum, angry, tired, sad and I feel better when I emerge.

With no-one to hug me, or for that matter for me to hug, my shower has become my micro-escape: Hey, a month in Hawai'i with the one I love would be preferable but it'll have to do. I can go in, begin the particular order of washing myself and think about things whilst being calm and feeling comforted. At times I still feel a bit sad standing there soaping myself but that usually flows away down the drain; one of my favourite things in the whole wide world comes when I get out and dry off: To crawl naked and shower-clean under my duvet.

I love it- Feeling clean and warm and peaceful as I slide into my bed, the feeling of the fabric against my skin... i'm a sucker for textural pleasures... I curl up with Patrick and relax into my nest, feeling terribly content, at least for a little while, 'til my brain lands on the Usual Suspects that roam unrestrained about my head.

Sigh.

monky posted 207 words at 01:29 on 20/02/10 | (0)

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Being a little more padded than when I last shopped for a well-fitting bra today to pass some time I tried out some push-up numbers. I used to be all against push-up bras feeling that they deceived a little too much and would lead viewers to believe that what was barely contained within was factual. Anyway, my thoughts have changed on the subject - i.e. fuck it - and so i've been trying a few out for size.

Getting the correct size is proving an issue as the ones i've tried so far don't contain all the breast tissue in a way i'd expect- I want everything focused up and towards the front, not falling out of the sides. What the hell is going on there, I have no idea. Anyway, I need to try a fair few more until I let the look of the previous push-up...

The only push-up I own is a rather beautiful piece by AP - Nikita in gorgeous green satin - however although this gives me actual cleavage it is now too small and there is no way I can afford anything AP that is not in the sale (where I got my Nikita). Whilst browsing their site I came across the following astounding item: Skyranger

Yes, it's massively expensive for what it is but look! Look at the awesome! Bright colours... Fringing... Metallics... Goodness it is trashily lovely.

I shall not be purchasing either Nikita or Skyranger but will continue my quest for a decent bra. I figure I owe it to myself to try and present myself a little better? Not that i'm suddenly going to go blonde and simpering; I guess making the most of what i've got? Or at least a little more...?

I think I feel this way because i'm feeling undervalued again- because I am undervalued!

It's sex on the brain, or more specifically having needs that aren't satisfied and haven't been so for months. I miss having an intimate partner and all that entails - well not *all* that - the snoring and duvet-thievery I certainly do not; at the same time as I miss it I know there's nothing to be done about it- I'm not one for one-night-stands and i'm not confident enough to date.

So i'll just take what solace I can find in my battery-powered friends and comfort in food. Take lots of long hot showers where I linger a little longer over washing the soap suds off. Look at unaffordable unobtainables and sigh a lot. SIGH.

monky posted 424 words at 00:16 on 17/02/10 | (0)

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