Hey,
I'm torn between two trains of thought. Let's run them by in turn. If it helps, think of it as the angel and devil on my shoulders. The angel is played by Joss Stone in the movie version, and the devil by Robb Flynn from Machine Head. Not to forebode anything, but he has brought a really big gun and several thousand rounds, all marked property of the US Army.
Joss: Feel bad for leaving the Bridge last week. You ruined many people's night because you all went out together as a big group of happy friends, and then left early.
Robb: But, you are so over clubs like that. You want to mosh and 'bang until two in the morning, and you don't need to feel that self-concious and really fucking bored. There are so many things better in life than clubs like the Bridge and Park End and Groove at home.
Joss: But you could get really drunk and then that would be OK!
Craig: I hate anyone who needs to drink to have a good time.
Joss: But... but... Grease Remix! Jackson Five! Cheese!
Robb: Time to shut up, Joss. *insert gloriously violent death scene*
Does anyone want the rights to this?
Craig
Friday, October 29, 2004
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Hey,
Yesterday I learned that the cost of a two year masters degree could buy me a small yet very real Jaguar car, that half the students who do higher degrees find the money from their own pocket, that the entire application process is a confusing trade-off between believing this is what I'm going to do with my life, and considering the possible back up plans should I not do well enough, and that the lid to my new biro was in my back pocket all along, and that I no longer have to worry about it drying up. I believe that this proves the the universe is in perfect equilibrium.
I am also now considering the logistics of owning a Jaguar. I believe the zoo would be willing to trade one for all my university friends. Me and Cath decided that we wanted cats when we live together, and I think why fuck around with a lazy moggy when you can get a real badass jungle cat that only causes a mess on your neighbours lawn after savaging their five year old daughter. I'd bring it to the door every time a fucking saleperson or religious nut stopped by, and when they got past their opening line, I'd say "You must want my wife" and after opening the animals jaws, yell down its throat "Honey, its for you". Plus, I'd never have to worry about my children getting obese. A couple of drops of meat juice in the washing should be enough to encourage regular exercise, not to mention a survival instinct that would serve them well in today's cut-throat world, and a nervous twitch whenever anyone said "walkies".
Speak soon,
Craig
Yesterday I learned that the cost of a two year masters degree could buy me a small yet very real Jaguar car, that half the students who do higher degrees find the money from their own pocket, that the entire application process is a confusing trade-off between believing this is what I'm going to do with my life, and considering the possible back up plans should I not do well enough, and that the lid to my new biro was in my back pocket all along, and that I no longer have to worry about it drying up. I believe that this proves the the universe is in perfect equilibrium.
I am also now considering the logistics of owning a Jaguar. I believe the zoo would be willing to trade one for all my university friends. Me and Cath decided that we wanted cats when we live together, and I think why fuck around with a lazy moggy when you can get a real badass jungle cat that only causes a mess on your neighbours lawn after savaging their five year old daughter. I'd bring it to the door every time a fucking saleperson or religious nut stopped by, and when they got past their opening line, I'd say "You must want my wife" and after opening the animals jaws, yell down its throat "Honey, its for you". Plus, I'd never have to worry about my children getting obese. A couple of drops of meat juice in the washing should be enough to encourage regular exercise, not to mention a survival instinct that would serve them well in today's cut-throat world, and a nervous twitch whenever anyone said "walkies".
Speak soon,
Craig
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Hey,
Well this is it, post number 100. When I re-read some of my material from the past six months, I feel a small amount of pride into what this blogg has become, and indeed will continue to become. I mean, the first few months were really, really not good looking back objecively. I think this is what arty people call finding your "voice". Well, I can't paint or perform or sing or make music, so I guess my voice is within the words that I write and the ideas that I use here. And I'm starting to feel comfortable with it, and that can only be a good thing. I hope this continues. And maybe, maybe, part of me hopes that other people enjoy what I'm doing here, and will continue to enjoy it to post 200, post 500, post 1000 and beyond.
I thank you for your patience. Normal service will be resumed shortly.
Craig
Well this is it, post number 100. When I re-read some of my material from the past six months, I feel a small amount of pride into what this blogg has become, and indeed will continue to become. I mean, the first few months were really, really not good looking back objecively. I think this is what arty people call finding your "voice". Well, I can't paint or perform or sing or make music, so I guess my voice is within the words that I write and the ideas that I use here. And I'm starting to feel comfortable with it, and that can only be a good thing. I hope this continues. And maybe, maybe, part of me hopes that other people enjoy what I'm doing here, and will continue to enjoy it to post 200, post 500, post 1000 and beyond.
I thank you for your patience. Normal service will be resumed shortly.
Craig
Monday, October 25, 2004
Dear Mr. Homes,
As part of our ongoing campaign to take over even the most personal and inappropriate places for our own corporate shilling, we have selected your blog to broadcast a few choice words about CS Executive Management Consultancy! We believe that the people who read this page are looking for more, and that is exactly what we are hoping to take from you.
You are all invited to an evening presentation at the Randolph Hotel on the 5th November 2004 at 7.30pm, where you can meet a wide range of similarly minded people, from all across the nicer areas of Central London! Take time to chat with our representatives who will supply you with free champagne and fob off any serious questions you have with one of FIVE pre-prepared, government approved speeches about the Opportunities, Benefits, Rewards and Hamburgers you get from being a CS person.
On a more serious note, maybe you think you're not a CS person. You're possibly thinking you're an underachiever, whose not as "bright" or "self-aware" as your friends. Do Not Panic. You are exactly what we are looking for. CS specialise in providing people like you a place where these special talents can thrive. As we say at CS, "Relevance is a four letter word".
What exactly is a career at CS?! Our people dedicate they're entire life to making themselves and their companions richer, while at the same time helping poor and defenceless multi-national conglomerates deal with the problems of where the hoard their excessive wealth so as to earn even more to divide up when the annual bonus meeting comes around! You'll help companies believe they are doing something for their workers by suggesting a new wall colour for the gents toilets! Most importantly, you'll never have to worry about where the next challenge is coming from or that you aren't doing anything constructive with your life because we're paying you more than you could ever get doing something with your intellectual gifts that actually makes a difference to anyones life so that you never notice the empty, hollow feeling you would otherwise get spending your entire life sucking on the enormous penis that is corporate Britain! Plus, you get an enormous office with a secretary and a huge table and its shiny! Really shiny!
Hope to see you on the 7th!
Yours sincerely
Anthony Smith-Symthe-Smith
As part of our ongoing campaign to take over even the most personal and inappropriate places for our own corporate shilling, we have selected your blog to broadcast a few choice words about CS Executive Management Consultancy! We believe that the people who read this page are looking for more, and that is exactly what we are hoping to take from you.
You are all invited to an evening presentation at the Randolph Hotel on the 5th November 2004 at 7.30pm, where you can meet a wide range of similarly minded people, from all across the nicer areas of Central London! Take time to chat with our representatives who will supply you with free champagne and fob off any serious questions you have with one of FIVE pre-prepared, government approved speeches about the Opportunities, Benefits, Rewards and Hamburgers you get from being a CS person.
On a more serious note, maybe you think you're not a CS person. You're possibly thinking you're an underachiever, whose not as "bright" or "self-aware" as your friends. Do Not Panic. You are exactly what we are looking for. CS specialise in providing people like you a place where these special talents can thrive. As we say at CS, "Relevance is a four letter word".
What exactly is a career at CS?! Our people dedicate they're entire life to making themselves and their companions richer, while at the same time helping poor and defenceless multi-national conglomerates deal with the problems of where the hoard their excessive wealth so as to earn even more to divide up when the annual bonus meeting comes around! You'll help companies believe they are doing something for their workers by suggesting a new wall colour for the gents toilets! Most importantly, you'll never have to worry about where the next challenge is coming from or that you aren't doing anything constructive with your life because we're paying you more than you could ever get doing something with your intellectual gifts that actually makes a difference to anyones life so that you never notice the empty, hollow feeling you would otherwise get spending your entire life sucking on the enormous penis that is corporate Britain! Plus, you get an enormous office with a secretary and a huge table and its shiny! Really shiny!
Hope to see you on the 7th!
Yours sincerely
Anthony Smith-Symthe-Smith
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Hey,
Today I woke up at eight and had some breakfast. I had a lecture and I finished my essay before handing it in. I had some lunch which I ingested through my mouth then allowed my digestive system to deal with over night. I had a tute. I had dinner. I played Go and listened to a CD and spoke to my girlfriend. I finished a very nice day in the bar, and then I went to bed.
Speak soon,
Craig
(9 Comments)
Comments:
From: busy_liz
Date: October 19 2004 10.52pm
Hey, thats great. I listened to a CD too. I read your blog every day at work, where I am a footstool. I love being able to find out all the interesting things that go on in your life. They give me something to look forward to every day and stop me from stabbing every one around me with a spork.
From: galadriel
Date: October 19 2004 10.58pm
*hugs* Don't worry. We all feel like that sometimes, but its OK. We are here to give you all the love and support you need.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 19 2004 11.59pm
Hahaha that is so true. IM me on chandlerbling@aol.com.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 12.19am
I haven't heard from you yet. Don't forget about me. How long can you hold your breath?
From: cool_hip_groovy
Date: October 20 2004 12.20am
"I finished my essay before handing it in"
Don't you just hate it when you hand it in before you finish it :-P
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 12.22am
Still going...
From: loves_leather
Date: October 20 2004 3.02am
Your appointments with Miss Adventure at the Leather and PVC Fetish Dungeon have been cancelled until a full medical assessment of last Friday's incident has been conducted and a suitable lotion has been perscribed by a trained GP.
From: raymond43
Date: October 20 2004 8.34am
I found this journal by accident but since then I've been also found Jesus, who was on your friends list.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 11.12am
We are sorry to inform you that the late user of this computer was found this morning having died of asyphixiation. He was found slumped of the desk with a stopwatch still running. We are deeply sorry to inform you in this impersonal fashion, and wonder if you would like to buy the stopwatch.
This Entry has been Locked
Today I woke up at eight and had some breakfast. I had a lecture and I finished my essay before handing it in. I had some lunch which I ingested through my mouth then allowed my digestive system to deal with over night. I had a tute. I had dinner. I played Go and listened to a CD and spoke to my girlfriend. I finished a very nice day in the bar, and then I went to bed.
Speak soon,
Craig
(9 Comments)
Comments:
From: busy_liz
Date: October 19 2004 10.52pm
Hey, thats great. I listened to a CD too. I read your blog every day at work, where I am a footstool. I love being able to find out all the interesting things that go on in your life. They give me something to look forward to every day and stop me from stabbing every one around me with a spork.
From: galadriel
Date: October 19 2004 10.58pm
*hugs* Don't worry. We all feel like that sometimes, but its OK. We are here to give you all the love and support you need.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 19 2004 11.59pm
Hahaha that is so true. IM me on chandlerbling@aol.com.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 12.19am
I haven't heard from you yet. Don't forget about me. How long can you hold your breath?
From: cool_hip_groovy
Date: October 20 2004 12.20am
"I finished my essay before handing it in"
Don't you just hate it when you hand it in before you finish it :-P
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 12.22am
Still going...
From: loves_leather
Date: October 20 2004 3.02am
Your appointments with Miss Adventure at the Leather and PVC Fetish Dungeon have been cancelled until a full medical assessment of last Friday's incident has been conducted and a suitable lotion has been perscribed by a trained GP.
From: raymond43
Date: October 20 2004 8.34am
I found this journal by accident but since then I've been also found Jesus, who was on your friends list.
From: Anonomous
Date: October 20 2004 11.12am
We are sorry to inform you that the late user of this computer was found this morning having died of asyphixiation. He was found slumped of the desk with a stopwatch still running. We are deeply sorry to inform you in this impersonal fashion, and wonder if you would like to buy the stopwatch.
This Entry has been Locked
Monday, October 18, 2004
Hey,
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/leicestershire/3746000.stm
The victim was the dad and grandad of two people I worked with at Next. I've been following the trial since early September in the hope that they would see some justice done. I hope that this begins to help them and their family deal with their loss.
Craig
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/leicestershire/3746000.stm
The victim was the dad and grandad of two people I worked with at Next. I've been following the trial since early September in the hope that they would see some justice done. I hope that this begins to help them and their family deal with their loss.
Craig
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Hey,
I remember, in my distant past a time when I would never stop doing sport. I would think nothing of swimming after school, and then going to play rugby or badminton or spend an hour on the athletics track. They were simpler times, when a man was judged by the firmness of his stomach rather than the quality of his person. What a sight young Holmes was, his strong and athletic frame turning heads as he walked the streets, his dazzling smile distracting attention from the fluffy moustache of adolensence. And the women, oh the women.
Yesterday I played frisbee, and was panting harder than a Doberman in the back of a Volvo on a sunny day with the windows wound up. After about three minutes. That is an almost staggering lack of fitness, mainly attributed to the fact I still think I'm that guy, so I don't pace myself until its too late. So I've done some research, and I think with a carefully regimented training routine, I can change. I'll run under the cover of darkness, around the park, except for days when its too hot to cover myself entirely with a duvet cover, and then I'll run at night. I'll do reps in the gym with weights: one up, one down, one brief yell for someone who knows what a hernia actually looks like. I'll be more careful with what I eat. For instance, I used to eat soup very quickly, and it left me with no skin on my tongue. And with all this effort, I'll become a fit, fast, running machine, very much like this.
Because remember: we can all fly as high as our dreams allow, unless we are an ostrich.
Speak soon,
Craig
I remember, in my distant past a time when I would never stop doing sport. I would think nothing of swimming after school, and then going to play rugby or badminton or spend an hour on the athletics track. They were simpler times, when a man was judged by the firmness of his stomach rather than the quality of his person. What a sight young Holmes was, his strong and athletic frame turning heads as he walked the streets, his dazzling smile distracting attention from the fluffy moustache of adolensence. And the women, oh the women.
Yesterday I played frisbee, and was panting harder than a Doberman in the back of a Volvo on a sunny day with the windows wound up. After about three minutes. That is an almost staggering lack of fitness, mainly attributed to the fact I still think I'm that guy, so I don't pace myself until its too late. So I've done some research, and I think with a carefully regimented training routine, I can change. I'll run under the cover of darkness, around the park, except for days when its too hot to cover myself entirely with a duvet cover, and then I'll run at night. I'll do reps in the gym with weights: one up, one down, one brief yell for someone who knows what a hernia actually looks like. I'll be more careful with what I eat. For instance, I used to eat soup very quickly, and it left me with no skin on my tongue. And with all this effort, I'll become a fit, fast, running machine, very much like this.
Because remember: we can all fly as high as our dreams allow, unless we are an ostrich.
Speak soon,
Craig
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Hey,
I've called time on this damn collection. As much as I have enjoyed rubbing in the fact I did a collection in bed with a cup of tea (and believe me, I did), its annoying because I have never done this work. I have never studied these two topics and I had to search for books to answer them. And I've still left a gap. It's pretty much like being told that I have two tute sheets to do, and you've got three hours. Not so much with the fun.
Cath comes soon. Very excited. Maybe Indian food later. I'm gonna go play Go, or watch this damn Super Junior Tag League from 1994 which I've been watching on and off for the past couple of weeks. I enjoy the New Japan juniors, especially from this time period, but the tag format means matwork-matwork-matwork...and...screw it lets go CRAZY SPOTS into a finish. CRAZY SPOTS make it fun, but maybe that's not enough.
Speak soon,
Craig
I've called time on this damn collection. As much as I have enjoyed rubbing in the fact I did a collection in bed with a cup of tea (and believe me, I did), its annoying because I have never done this work. I have never studied these two topics and I had to search for books to answer them. And I've still left a gap. It's pretty much like being told that I have two tute sheets to do, and you've got three hours. Not so much with the fun.
Cath comes soon. Very excited. Maybe Indian food later. I'm gonna go play Go, or watch this damn Super Junior Tag League from 1994 which I've been watching on and off for the past couple of weeks. I enjoy the New Japan juniors, especially from this time period, but the tag format means matwork-matwork-matwork...and...screw it lets go CRAZY SPOTS into a finish. CRAZY SPOTS make it fun, but maybe that's not enough.
Speak soon,
Craig
Friday, October 08, 2004
Hey,
I've still got assorted parts of a cold, specifically part II (runny nose) part IV (dry throat) part VIII (groin rash) and part XII (cigarette burn to the arm), so bear with my if I sound a bit bunged up. What? Don't you think I can sound bunged up on a blogg? Cheeky mudderfuggers...
We had a pretty decent night at the Cellar last night. I had this great idea that we could stop by there on the way to Sabotage in future, because of the live bands and the cheap beer. Of course, I let Dave say it first, and then I pretended for a few minutes that I didn't like the idea, and then I posted the idea on my blogg, and then he saw it and claimed that it was in fact his idea in the first place, and then we had words and as far as I know we havent spoken to each other for nearly two years now.
On a serious note for this blogg, I'd like to express, as I'm sure does everyone, the utter most sympathy for the Bigleys. It is a huge tragedy when a life gets ended for someone else's fight. The man never started a war, nor saw to it the female Iraqi prisoners were held. Though I also think it important to be sensible where we target our anger at his murder. It would be easy to blame our prime minister for his death, but that is not the case. The blood is on the hands of the killers, and the killers alone. It may be that with this war, Mr. Blair has put his people at considerable risk, one that he can only just be realising the full extent of, but he did not order this horrific execution. As a critic of the war, I still think it is important to question the core issue, that the war was initiated on tentative grounds that have since been unproven, so that we are in effect the aggressors, rather than acting on defence grounds. It would easy to allow deeply emotional issues to become the banner of the anti-war feelings, but I think this weakens the argument, as sympathetic as it may be. If it did so it would be "the war is bad because this man died" rather than the original contention "the war is bad because it works against everything the civilised world has fought to create in the past sixty years".
For once, I'd actually like to hear other opinions.
Speak soon,
Craig
I've still got assorted parts of a cold, specifically part II (runny nose) part IV (dry throat) part VIII (groin rash) and part XII (cigarette burn to the arm), so bear with my if I sound a bit bunged up. What? Don't you think I can sound bunged up on a blogg? Cheeky mudderfuggers...
We had a pretty decent night at the Cellar last night. I had this great idea that we could stop by there on the way to Sabotage in future, because of the live bands and the cheap beer. Of course, I let Dave say it first, and then I pretended for a few minutes that I didn't like the idea, and then I posted the idea on my blogg, and then he saw it and claimed that it was in fact his idea in the first place, and then we had words and as far as I know we havent spoken to each other for nearly two years now.
On a serious note for this blogg, I'd like to express, as I'm sure does everyone, the utter most sympathy for the Bigleys. It is a huge tragedy when a life gets ended for someone else's fight. The man never started a war, nor saw to it the female Iraqi prisoners were held. Though I also think it important to be sensible where we target our anger at his murder. It would be easy to blame our prime minister for his death, but that is not the case. The blood is on the hands of the killers, and the killers alone. It may be that with this war, Mr. Blair has put his people at considerable risk, one that he can only just be realising the full extent of, but he did not order this horrific execution. As a critic of the war, I still think it is important to question the core issue, that the war was initiated on tentative grounds that have since been unproven, so that we are in effect the aggressors, rather than acting on defence grounds. It would easy to allow deeply emotional issues to become the banner of the anti-war feelings, but I think this weakens the argument, as sympathetic as it may be. If it did so it would be "the war is bad because this man died" rather than the original contention "the war is bad because it works against everything the civilised world has fought to create in the past sixty years".
For once, I'd actually like to hear other opinions.
Speak soon,
Craig
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Hey,
I looks like we are all Oxford bound, baby! Oh yeah! Woot woot! Hammer time. The weather's turned crap, the Management tutor has invited me to her office to discuss my holidays, and the Webmail home page has become "So, you're new to Oxford and you're stupid, don't worry, we can help..."
The meeting at the business school irks me off for a number of reasons I'm only too happy to go into. Firstly, I have never been taught by this woman, and I never will. All I can report, while the other two relay stories of their incredible adventures over yonder sea where they battled the elements, tended to the sick and combed their hair, is that I've worked for cash, I've studied, and I've visited my girlfriend. Are you happy now, Doctor Laura? Do you feel invigorated by that knowledge?
Second reason. I hate the business school. I hate everyone who gladly walks around its perfect shiny halls hoping that one day, the knowledge they learned there will look good on a CV so they can get the highest paid job for the most faceless corporation and spend the next forty years making themselves, and all the suits around them that bit richer. Big brain, small minds.
We went to see Saw this evening. My nerves are shot to pieces, and I ain't gonna sleep properly for at least the next two nights. It's so fucking twisted and violent and by-god absorbing and as I walked out, my legs felt distinctly wobbly. It's like Seven in its ability to come up with such sick and depraved facets of human nature, but much, much more so. It's certainly not afraid to focuses heavily the suffering and the sheer panic and terror of victims. The camera work is excellent and works, almost all of the time, speeding up drawn out nasty scenes which at the same time makes them that more distrubing and harrowing. Yes, fuck, harrowing was the word I was looking for. Sitting in the packed cinema, you could feel the audience tense and squirm and jump. And the ending, the final twist, just when you think the movie couldn't mess with you anymore, chews you up and spits you back one more time, just for kicks. In terms of execution, originality, suspense and intricate plot writing, Saw is awesome. I'll leave it for better critics to pick for holes. In the meantime, I'm off to check what that noise was in the kitchen.
Speak soon,
Craig
I looks like we are all Oxford bound, baby! Oh yeah! Woot woot! Hammer time. The weather's turned crap, the Management tutor has invited me to her office to discuss my holidays, and the Webmail home page has become "So, you're new to Oxford and you're stupid, don't worry, we can help..."
The meeting at the business school irks me off for a number of reasons I'm only too happy to go into. Firstly, I have never been taught by this woman, and I never will. All I can report, while the other two relay stories of their incredible adventures over yonder sea where they battled the elements, tended to the sick and combed their hair, is that I've worked for cash, I've studied, and I've visited my girlfriend. Are you happy now, Doctor Laura? Do you feel invigorated by that knowledge?
Second reason. I hate the business school. I hate everyone who gladly walks around its perfect shiny halls hoping that one day, the knowledge they learned there will look good on a CV so they can get the highest paid job for the most faceless corporation and spend the next forty years making themselves, and all the suits around them that bit richer. Big brain, small minds.
We went to see Saw this evening. My nerves are shot to pieces, and I ain't gonna sleep properly for at least the next two nights. It's so fucking twisted and violent and by-god absorbing and as I walked out, my legs felt distinctly wobbly. It's like Seven in its ability to come up with such sick and depraved facets of human nature, but much, much more so. It's certainly not afraid to focuses heavily the suffering and the sheer panic and terror of victims. The camera work is excellent and works, almost all of the time, speeding up drawn out nasty scenes which at the same time makes them that more distrubing and harrowing. Yes, fuck, harrowing was the word I was looking for. Sitting in the packed cinema, you could feel the audience tense and squirm and jump. And the ending, the final twist, just when you think the movie couldn't mess with you anymore, chews you up and spits you back one more time, just for kicks. In terms of execution, originality, suspense and intricate plot writing, Saw is awesome. I'll leave it for better critics to pick for holes. In the meantime, I'm off to check what that noise was in the kitchen.
Speak soon,
Craig
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Everything is so fucking weird and I feel so fucking helpless.
I'm back from France. Everything there is OK. The school seems nice, and the place seems fairly alive, though not all the time. There are even some people who are friendly. And we've managed to sort out any major problem with the flat before I went. But, its still so fucking difficult because I don't feel like I can do enough, and Cath is obviously worried about being isolated and lonely, and I'm sure it will get easier with time, but right now, right this second, its not easy. It just seems wrong.
Oh, by the way, if you consider yourself a friend, and you didn't take a few minutes to at least wish her well... Fuck you. No, no, seriously. Fuck you. For the rest of you that did, thank you.
I watched this Tennis for Retards... sorry, Superset Tennis on Sky. The whole point is they play one set, because people have short attention spans. They've got some skirt hosting and giggling through an interview with Tim Henman how this is making tennis more sexy, while players come out to entrance music and are allowed to question umpires and go to the video replay. Serve is determined by a small game ("Let's play "Serve...to serve!" like some demented Roy Walker) while the MC asks for the audiences opinion as to who won first serve, before the offical result is broadcast, and interviews the coach while the players warm up about how they think "their man" should play. Who sold out? Everyone sold out. Tennis isn't some board game you can repackage with bright colours and a new set of pieces every Christmas. The drama is the game, the rest is just salad dressing. You know, the sort that you're not sure whether you should eat, and the odd times you do, its made of plastic, you know, biting slowly at first, and then with a relaxed determination disguising the cretinosity of your mistake. It may not be rock and roll, but then neither are Girls Aloud, and nobody seems to be getting rid of them.
Speak soon
Craig
I'm back from France. Everything there is OK. The school seems nice, and the place seems fairly alive, though not all the time. There are even some people who are friendly. And we've managed to sort out any major problem with the flat before I went. But, its still so fucking difficult because I don't feel like I can do enough, and Cath is obviously worried about being isolated and lonely, and I'm sure it will get easier with time, but right now, right this second, its not easy. It just seems wrong.
Oh, by the way, if you consider yourself a friend, and you didn't take a few minutes to at least wish her well... Fuck you. No, no, seriously. Fuck you. For the rest of you that did, thank you.
I watched this Tennis for Retards... sorry, Superset Tennis on Sky. The whole point is they play one set, because people have short attention spans. They've got some skirt hosting and giggling through an interview with Tim Henman how this is making tennis more sexy, while players come out to entrance music and are allowed to question umpires and go to the video replay. Serve is determined by a small game ("Let's play "Serve...to serve!" like some demented Roy Walker) while the MC asks for the audiences opinion as to who won first serve, before the offical result is broadcast, and interviews the coach while the players warm up about how they think "their man" should play. Who sold out? Everyone sold out. Tennis isn't some board game you can repackage with bright colours and a new set of pieces every Christmas. The drama is the game, the rest is just salad dressing. You know, the sort that you're not sure whether you should eat, and the odd times you do, its made of plastic, you know, biting slowly at first, and then with a relaxed determination disguising the cretinosity of your mistake. It may not be rock and roll, but then neither are Girls Aloud, and nobody seems to be getting rid of them.
Speak soon
Craig
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)