Monthly Archives: March 2005
An interview beckons. Past one hurdle; Just got to get through the grilling. Answering questions isn’t my problem, it’s nerves I suffer from. Sick feeling in my stomach, laughing faaar too much (at my own jokes for fuck’s sake). I hope I manage to pull it off; I’m somewhat desperate. If I do manage, then my life until Summer ’06 will be sorted, with housing, funding etc relatively easy to slot into place.
For fuck’s sake. Or perhaps for Fuck’ sake? Fuckssake? Like Christssake? Jesus.
Saw the Spongebob Movie. Not as bad as I feared. Sat drinking my neon blue slushie in a cinema full of kids- Was great to laugh along with them. Me laughing til I cried over a talking sponge and his simple friend who happens to be a talking starfish. Slurping my slushie, chomping my popcorn and a Spongebob poster on my lap. Yeah, I’m an adult.
It wasn’t laughing in a hysterical way (as when Spongebob tries to cross Patrick’s room very quietly but fails) like you’d get in an 11 minute episode but for 111 minutes there were quite a few genius moments. Oh and The ‘hoff was in it. So hairy. Ik. Aaand there were lots of Pirates in it. Hooraargh!
Check out the gallery- Dream Bedroom is my favourite: Knight Foundation
More Pirates: Saw The Goonies for the first time today. I saw about 10 minutes of it when a young ‘un and freaked but I have now placed it in the receptacle of treasured childhood memories where films such as The Flight of the Navigator, Star Wars, Space Camp and Indiana Jones reside. The acting from the kids was excellent (Potter kids take notice), I teared up on the Chunk/Sloth bit towards the end. Corey Feldman- Oh lord if only he’d kept off the coke.
“This is ridiculous. It’s crazy. I feel like I’m babysitting, except I’m not getting paid.”
Looking forward to a weekend (i.e. a day) of Spongebob & hibernation. Tired and feeling a lack of affection. Not of the friendly or flirty type (though that wouldn’t go amiss), but affection where you can curl up in another’s arms, close your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. The ache for soothing contact will pass soon enough, it’s just a little taxing when exhausted.
I treated myself to 12”/80’s so I will be spending the weekend throwing small robot shapes from the comfort of my bed or an armchair. Huzzah.
Clearly I must be tired- I caught Showgirls last night and didn’t think it as horrendous as I had been led to believe.
Art Fun: Greasy Spoon Gallery
Kiss me I’m half-Irish…
Finally saw The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Hmmm. I think I need to see it a couple more times to be sure about it but from a sole view I was left quite confused. It dragged. I felt it did quirky and alienated for it’s own sake; I wanted to find out more about the characters but they were left deliberately blank. There’s a similar detatched worldview in previous Wes Anderson films, however I could understand and empathise with the weirdness and isolation experienced by the players in Tenenbaums but not really in this film- But of course this does not necessarily mean the work is bad, just different. Maybe it’s my emotional state when viewing.
Detail was as usual for a Anderson effort excellent (nice typefaces), but I felt that this might have been covering up lack of content in some areas. Getting caught up in the little things and shirking on the grand view. Did I hope for too much? Maybe it’s because Tenenbaums is such a treasured film to me that I have a hard time accepting different and new, like a 5 year-old staring at their newborn sibling. I don’t think this is entirely the case however.
Was certainly not a bad film, just less of an immediate hit. I particularly liked the electronic beats provided courtesy of Mark Mothersbaugh and the Portuguese Bowie but I particularly objected to Sigur Ros popping up towards the end. Too easy pulling those emotional strings. An ocean-set scene of a character’s demise was very very beautiful. Humour gladly surfaced occasionally- The film clips made by Zissou were great, and the animated creatures were fun and interesting. I didn’t feel they detracted.
Maybe it’s a slow burner.
Wonderful post that touches on my experience and my feelings on the subject of an individual’s choice of partner. The rest of the site is excellent being very well-written and dealing with sexuality in a frank and intellegent manner. I should take some deep breaths and perhaps expose more of myself. It helps if you have a body like Bliatz has. Just a tiny bit. I have a lust for being someone’s personal slut (as long as they appreciate me for my mind as well as my stretch marks). Just need to have some surgery and find a willing partner in crime first…
For all those millions of readers out there who appreciate men in tights: Wrestling love triangle that is not a work- Lita — Matt Hardy — Edge. Good Gawd Almighty.
Work woes: A man comes to the Help Desk to collect an order he had placed a few weeks before. A collegue of mine retrieves said package and places the goods on the desk so the customer can check that the order has been made up correctly. The man takes one look at the items spread before him and flies into a rage- They are individual things and not the set he wanted. So he rushes off, collects what he wants off the shop floor and returns to confront my bewildered collegue.
He slaps the set down onto the desk and calls her a ‘stupid fucking shopgirl.’ The form was checked. The goods matched the order exactly. He had ordered the wrong things.
So she is a stupid fucking shopgirl. She, who is intelligent, kind and patient and hates the job she does. What is wrong with people? Could he have been more offensive? Calling her an ugly, motherfucking cunt would have at least been amusing.
Taking abuse without support in a dead-end job for the grand sum of £5.94/hr. What. The. Fuck.
Coming soon… An investigation into the personally theorised correlation between sales of craft products and levels of morbid obesity.
Hot kisses. The kind where your skin radiates fire from another’s lips and your body tingles. Experienced scattered across neck and shoulders, proffered by a close friend and witnessed by two men in body armour and riot gear mounted on shetland ponies driving brown sheep up to the front door of the house we had broken into.
Disturbing, in that the kisser is not a current sexual target but darned exciting. Never had the pleasure of such intimate casual affection inflicted upon myself. Made waking up early (again) and trying to get back to sleep a little easier. Plus, when work was leading to an attack of the mean reds, recalling the fevered dream brought a smile to my sad face.