Monthly Archives: July 2007
Interesting articles galore at Science Blogs and Mind Hacks
– The rise & fall of the prefrontal lobotomy
– What to do with a belligerent drunk
Mickey Spillane is proving to be my saviour from boredom and grrrrr-ness involving MW#1. I don’t feel sad anymore, just grrrrrrrRarrr. Anyways, I’ve whipped though I, The Jury and My Gun Is Quick and am currently on Vengeance Is Mine!.
I’ve enjoyed the gritty dialogue, all the hot dames and tough men. Also the titles are great. I have enjoyed imagining myself in the story- Of course, I do not imagine myself as one of the femmes fatale but as Mike Hammer’s trusty secretary Velda, who’s always there to get him out of a jam and who he keeps hanging when she’s plainly dynamite and he should scoop her up. No relation to reality OF COURSE.
“When I got a girl to hold down the office I figured I might as well get a good-looking one as a bean head, and I sure skimmed the cream off the top. Only I didn’t figure she’d turn out to be so smart. The good-looking ones seldom are. She’s big and she’s beautiful, and she’s got a brain that can figure angles while mine only figures the curves.”
“I reached out a toe and flipped her skirt down. On some people legs are just to reach the ground. On Velda they were a hell of a distraction.”
I’ve spent hours imagining myself dressed in heels and a tight pencil skirt leaning over desks, biting my lower lip and sitting in the private dick’s big leather chair with my long legs up on his desk. I had naturally brown hair (shock) that my boss liked to run his fingers through and I spent a good deal of time wearing dark green velvet suits. I wore stockings with seams and shapewear so I could fit in the pencil skirts. I looked teh hawt, and he knew it.
My boss was tall, dark and broad and looked like he’d caught a little action over the years- A little worn around the edges. As I can be dorky in nature I would often drop files down the back of the cabinet whilst attempting to file… I would have to bend over to rummage around for the file and I knew that he’d be eyeing me up as I did so. Hee.
Here’s an exchange from one of my favourite films, Rear Window:
[Listening to the composer play his piano]
Lisa: Where does a man get inspiration to write a song like that? It’s utterly beautiful. Wish I could be creative.
Jeff: Oh sweetie, you are. You have a great talent for creating difficult situations.
Lisa: I do?
Jeff: Sure. Staying here all night, uninvited.
Lisa: Surprise is the most important element of attack. And besides, you’re not up on your private eye literature. When they’re in trouble, it’s always their Girl Friday who gets them out of it.
Jeff: Well, is she the girl that saves him from the clutches of the seductive showgirls and the overpassionate daughters of the rich?
Lisa: The same.
Jeff: That’s the one, huh? It’s funny, he never ends up marrying her, does he, huh? That’s strange.
Lisa: Weird. Why don’t I slip into something more comfortable?
Jeff: By all means.
Now that IS a rarity- A film where the shamus ends up with His Girl Friday. Come on, she was Grace Kelly after all…
Ugh, it hurts when you’re reminded of the reality of your unimportance. The thing is, it’s just reality, and it’s there all the time, so what is there to fret about? Just sometimes, a big wad of reality check will creep up on me and BLAM!! i’m shedding tears watching Sideways.
Awesome Blue Screen of Death tatttoo
NSFW Why Do We Have Sex?
It seems obvious, but read the article. I would say that in the past I had sex to please, so that I could be closer to my partner who would ignore me on a frequent basis. Sometimes I detached during sex, so I could run away from the pain and hide out in my head. Yes I was attracted to the person and I wanted to be closer to them but it was just that- be closer. We were just physically close, the emotional closeness never existed, and I do not feel this was my fault.
237 Reasons To Have Sex
Currently, I would say I have sex, yes, because I am attracted to the person, because I wish to be closer to the person, but also so that I can feel closer to them. I feel connected, I feel comforted. I don’t have to lie there and take it. I feel free to express the pleasure I feel and also to say when I don’t. I feel cared for, and not just another hole to plug and a way to get him off.
I’d like to think that i’m not a receptacle to be used, and I don’t think I am- most of the time. It’s just sometimes, sometimes, when i’m tired and lonesome and my single glass of wine is making me fuzzy, I get ambushed by reality.
Perhaps everything I feel is warped, I am stupid and he is just using me to get off? I care deeply for the other person- but he manages to piss me off. I should get really mad but all I can do is think of how idiotic I am, curl up into an even smaller ball, hug the cushion tighter and let the tears run off my nose. I’m just tired and feeling the effects of being unemployed. Bleh.
I was so excited last week. Sigh.
So I spent a delightful half hour on the phone today signing myself up for all the money I can lay my hands on that the government in their stupidity will give me. I have a funfunfun appointment at the Job Centre next week so we shall see what happens.
Days of nothing are taking their toll after only four days. I’ve resorted to playing Stronghold again and am constructing a blind for my window to keep the sun out (the light hurt mine eyes). I am making it out of newspaper. It is going to be great.
Caversham Princess is off with Bobby Convey at the Cambridge Folk Festival, so I am home alone. I quite like being on my own, but the day-long noise from my neighbours is anger-inducing so it’s not all the fun it could be. At least I get to wander about in my underwear :)
I was thinking about Chris Langham’s statement that he is not a paedophile. Looking at images of child abuse does not mean that you will go on to abuse; paedophilia and child abuse is such a taboo topic that it’s difficult to have a rational conversation about it.
I think the case is also interesting from an image point of view- this idea that some things are off limits to look at. Surely the images of abuse from Abu Ghraib could be classed similarly, yet the public eventually got to see those, and apart from some porn being made and Ferdinand Botero producing some unusual paintings, as far as I know no-one has made it their business to repeat the incident.
I don’t have any desire to see images of anyone being abused. I think that there is a difference between someone who has ten images of abuse and someone who has filled a hard drive, that there is a difference between someone looking and someone looking and getting turned on. Is it a crime to see?
A breast fondling booth. I quite like the randomness of this idea. Find one, amongst other things, at NSFW The Night of the Senses
Blind your assailant and then stab him in the head with one of these super-cool SureFire torches.
Female Merit Badges by Mary Yaeger
Right. This link takes you to possibly one of the most disturbing images I have had the misfortune to see. I was looking for a piece of artwork that I saw in Berlin when this image popped up on Google.
Now, i’ve seen a lot of unpleasant stuff during my years of memorising the content of the internet, but trust me when I say that goatse is NOTHING when compared to the truly horrible immune disorder this poor man suffers from.
WFMU Missionary encounters extremely bizarre skin condition in Eastern Europe
I wish to have Gala Darling‘s hair
Fabulous, fabulously expensive jewellery from Shaun Leane
Mark Allen and the awesome story of the teacher who influenced him most and I Suffered Stendhal Syndrome at Universal Studios Hollywood
The trip to got off to an excellent start as me and my Mother were held captive on the tarmac at Heathrow for two hours due to inclement weather. It wasn’t too bad to be fair; I felt sorry for the cabin crew having to put up with complaints from passengers who objected to begin stuck inside the plane for so long.
Successfully made our way into central Berlin and to the hotel, which turned out to be lovely and rather swanky. The area we stayed in is historically a gay district; I did see quite a number of rather attractive, built and tattooed men wandering about. I ogled their arms and tight jeans from the safety behind my sunglasses.
Oddly, the street nearby was the domain of three (I guess straight) sex workers, who I would look forward to seeing totter about on their eight-inch white platform thigh-highs whenever we returned from an evening out. Oh, stripper shoes… sigh…
Then out into the warm night to the typically German Vietnamese restaurant that is Monsieur Vuong’s and a big bowl of won ton soup which was yummy. I managed to order all food and beverages required throughout the trip, without being nervous. Result. To be honest, I was like, fuck it, i’ll try my best and never mind the consequences, but it seemed to work.
Stuffed, we wandered off back to the train and to Pariser Platz and the Brandenburg Gate.
I was surprised by how pale it looked, having been familiar with the dirty Cold War version; the Gate had clearly been repaired and restored- pockmarking and blast marks are visible on pretty much any older structures that still stood alongside the proliferation of new buildings.
I found this visible marking of time and trauma interesting.
Then excellent cocktails that were large and tasty back at the hotel- I had a Caipirinha – Arrrr – (who the fuck uses white sugar??) with my Mum consuming a Mai Tai, which came with a slice of watermelon on the side of the glass, so I got to get a portion of my five-a-day when she didn’t want it. Yum.
Next day we went for a walk along Der Mauerweg– A route that takes you along the former route of the Wall and takes in some of the important sights.
It was a beautiful day. Maybe it was because I was tired, but I found walking the Wall and taking in the Chapel of Reconciliation and the Wall Memorial quite upsetting. I gulped it all down behind the sunglasses as me and my Mum wandered along the deathstrip where escapees were mown down and left to die.
I thought about how many people died (190-250), how many lives were ruined and how it was all so completely pointless and completely driven by selfish, ego-driven politics.
We wandered along a canal past an observation tower now stranded in amongst residential flats, past a cemetery containing a mass grave of Allied bombing victims, highly ornate memorials to Prussian generals and restored sections of the Wall.
Many of the headstones were shiny replacements- as the Wall ran through the cemetery, graves were destroyed so that East German guards could keep a clear line of sight (and thus fire) when patrolling the border.
Eventually we arrived at the Hamburger Bahnhof, the gallery for contemporary art (as it says on the tin a converted station). This place was awesome, with a very varied collection of artists from (east and West) Germany and beyond. They had an exhibition devoted to Schmerz in art that was right up my sick-minded street.
Before taking in the weird art we had a wonderful breakfast at a restaurant beside the canal- ham, cheeses, croissants, eggs, preserves and fruit under the neck burning sun. Awesomeness.
At Galleries Lafayette and we had Bouillabaisse and a glass of wine for dinner. I bought a straw sunhat. Of course, the next day it rained.
My Mum last went across Checkpoint Charlie (no, not the house night) in around 1979. When she went, guards searched under the passenger seats to check for any escapees and confiscated all the newspapers people were carrying.
It was a little odd to be surrounded by coachloads of tourists taking photos and buying Russian hats (I admit, I did want one). If you paid a fee, the man dressed up as a border guard beside the fake checkpoint would let you take a photograph with him.
One of the great things about Berlin is that most of the big museums and galleries are state owned, which meant reasonable entry prices; also, once you purchased a ticket to one place, you could use that same ticket to get you entry to all the institutions in the vicinity. We went to the Gemaldegalerie and the van der Rohe designed Neue Nationalgalerie.
The wonderfully quiet Gemaldegalerie contained a very good collection of pre-20thC artworks; the breadth of the collection was pleasingly wide and the arrangement of works in chronological order and grouped by artist was quite effective. I enjoyed the nice wooden seats.
I also discovered that I don’t like the famed sachertorte- almondy and dry. Yuck.
Unfortunately all the interesting C20th art at the Neue Nationalgalerie has been cleared out to make way for boooring French works from the Met Museum, so we made our way over to the Museum Island and the Pergamon Museum.
The Pergamon was heaving, and I must admit that I didn’t really enjoy myself due to the crowds and my sore feet, but there were some interesting things to be seen, most notably the collection of Roman copies of Greek statues, a beautifully detailed mosaic and full-size reconstructions of a Greek temple and a Babylonian gate.
The most interesting thing was an exhibition of art pertaining to script in pictures; it contained stuff like medieval paintings with banners coming out of people’s mouths to illustrate speech right though to Bruce Nauman neon sculptures.
For dinner we headed to the traditional food at the Brecht Haus– yes, a restaurant in the cellar. The food was again excellent- I had goulash with sauerkraut and dumplings; I usually dislike sauerkraut but mixed in it was super tasty, and the weird sliced dumplings (serviettenknodel) war toll also.
On the way there as I walked along I noticed two golden cobblestones in the pavement in front of me; these were stolpersteine designed to commemorate people deported and killed during the Third Reich.
They were for Dr. Martin Happ and Sophie Happ, deported in 1943 and killed in Auschwitz. I really like this idea of memorialising the past this way.
On our last morning we paid a visit to the Kaiser Wilhelm Church. I enjoyed the blue glass windows but there were far too many tourists to sit and take it all in.
Overall a highly successful trip. I’d love to return for a few more days- there is so much more i’d like to see… and so much more food I’d like to eat :)
Oh good Gawd- I am listening to Incense and Peppermints and drinking a glass of wine and TOTALLY wanting to fling my clothes off and leap around on my bed. Eeeeeeeeee. The wine just thought i’d share.
I’m back. I’m tired. I’m even slightly sunburnt. Images to follow.
I’ve spent the last couple of days mentally enacting the many permutations of what could have happened Wednesday lunchtime. I seriously need a back rub now :)
Off until Monday evening to beautiful Berlin… Tschuss
So I went to “sort my timetable out” at my new school; this turned out to be around 1hr50 discussing all the interesting things that the students are expected to cover. I was really looking forward to all this new stuff, that is until the last 10 minutes when we actually went through the timetable.
Basically, it’s all fairly fucked. The timetable as it stands has me working one and a half days spread over three days. This means I can get two days of supply done during the week but, as my C grade maths tells me that leaves me without pay for one and a half days. I didn’t feel comfortable bringing this up at the departmental meeting so I’ve written an email explaining my plight.
So, I finally managed to get a job at a good school. I made quite clear at interview that my employment in the Autumn term would depend on the timetable offered. I was relatively happy. Then I find that I am going to be seriously, seriously out of pocket and that there is nowt much I can do about it, but at the same time I don’t want to whine.
And my world is filled with too much noise at the moment (I have been wearing these earplugs for three hours so far this evening and still noise leaks in)…
Aand my lunchtime event which I had been whipped up into near frenzy about is not happening…
Aaaand i’m off to beautiful Berlin on Friday… and how do I feel?
Which is totally fucking stupid. But there you go.
Sigh. The Campus Invasion is cancelled. The cancellation is no-one’s fault but I can’t help but feel somewhat glum. Lunch alone in front of the computer it is then…
I am SADDENED.
Going to try and sort out the part-time job tomorrow; as much as I will be taking everything in and writing stuff down at the back of my mind I will be thinking about what is planned for Wednesday lunchtime.
Yes, I was bold and wrote the email. Lunchtime will last approximately one hour and will be a healthy lunch, in that it will count towards my yearly dose of cardiovascular exercise.
I am EXCITED.
So, I finally decide it might be worth my while upgrading to Pro on the Super Sekrit Flickr account and I find that the powers that be have taken away the option to pay via PayPal. Grrr. Must those of us without a credit card be punished?
Internal vagina casts from the awesome NSFW Private Sculpture
She Is a Girl by the Reverse Cowgirl
NSFW Megan Fox – there once was a little girl who never knew love until a boy broke her HEART
Threadbared – Knitting pattern models galore
[Ava is another lovely name.]
Paddy Hartley – Textile art based on First World War surgery
Number Painter #4 – Sesame Street
Blessed (detail) – Ray Caesar
NSFW Tour pornographer/I mean photographer
NPR : A Bracing Primer for Budding Scoundrels – I Trained Her To Love Me
So now i’m officially an unemployed bum. The job I managed to win will be full time from January onwards until the end of the Summer term, so I will finally be able to finish my NQT year- phew. I still have to get through the next month or so without a job, and I will have to be back on supply for the Autumn term, but I feel like I am making progress towards something, so am fairly pleased about it all.
Am heading off to Berlin on Friday for a couple of days mit meine Mutti, and I am greatly looking forward to it, language barrier be damned. I am excited about all the great museums and galleries and all the WWII/Cold War stuff to see; the last time my Mum was there was in ’79/’80 so I am going to take advantage of her experience so that I can compare what the place was like before glasnost.
I feel like life is looking up. Not that its been terribly bad of late, but the small amount of progress towards a job of more permanence is appreciated. As part of my interview I got grilled by the headteacher and head of department- they said I was really excellent and that my lesson was exciting- I don’t know what lesson they were watching, but I did enjoy the small amount of ego massaging.
My hair’s relatively short again, and i’ve been feeling good about the world. Good as in, “come here whilst I jump your not-so-ignorant bones” good… I’ve got that Summer feeling where I want to spend a long balmy evening letting myself be slowly seduced over a few good cocktails.
I even want to spend an evening doing the seducing- something i’ve never deliberately set out to do, as I always bump up against the fear I have of impropriety. Yeah, I still get that. Maybe I should just go for it, as i’ve been past the point-of-no-return for over a year now. Rar.
Maybe I should just send an email. Maybe. Maybe not.
This song by Jarvis Cocker sums up how I feel at the mo- It’s glorious…
Taken from the 2006 album Jarvis
Last day at school for me tomorrow and I feel sad to leave. I have however finally managed to get myself employed, at least from January onwards for two terms and possibly part-time from September. Result.
More later but now I am going to go to bed.
I’ve got a cute bruise. It is small and almost perfectly round. Buried deep beneath the lilac is pain. I try and sneak glances at it down my top when i’m alone at work.
I’m very tired. It’s the end of a long day.