Needed to record this scene from last night's rehearsal.
It started, as do so many things, at an ectasy fuelled rave in Goa. Me and Jim were talking over the music, and he commented on my tattoo, that meant we must have gone to the same camp. He said he liked Goa, I said I liked Camp. The music stops, and soon the entire club is turning on me, calling me a camp-lover. And, because the music had stopped, they decided I should take them to camp, if it was so good.
They were not impressed with the little camp with it's hammock. Violence was brewing, when I started making rave music noises, and suddenly the gang were entrance, dancing again like they were back in the club. Two weeks later, our narrator added, we we're starting to get tired, so everyone dancing fell into the hammock to sleep. They all got entangled in it as I looked on. At this point, the story teller went on, I laughed evily. So, of course, I did. It was all a plan, a plan to get them to camp and trap them there.
"Dude, I am totally tripping out right now. What are they over there? Are they monkeys?", asked on of the guys stuck in the hammock.
Evil shreiking monkeys abound, and the plan unfolds, in so much as it suddenly becomes so less clear. I was to set them on the ravers if they didn't promise to join the camp, it eventually turned out. I even had the forms handy. One of they guys still didn't know if they were real or not, because he was still tripping.
End scene. I love the Imps.
Craig
Friday, April 29, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Dear Dickpuppet,
I hate you. Oh, how I hate you. I hate you so much it gives me strength. Sometimes I wake up early because there aren't enough hours in the day to hate you enough. And it's not just me. Everyone hates you. Your mother called, just to say she's so glad you didn't get in touch.
Love,
Craig
I hate you. Oh, how I hate you. I hate you so much it gives me strength. Sometimes I wake up early because there aren't enough hours in the day to hate you enough. And it's not just me. Everyone hates you. Your mother called, just to say she's so glad you didn't get in touch.
Love,
Craig
Monday, April 25, 2005
I've decided that these little exam test things are kind of annoying. It's like picking your seven year old brother from school. You know that it's going to have to be done at some point, but can't help thinking that you'd like a few more days of living before you get around to it.
But anyway, I'm starting to build up to those long twelve hour days in the library I know are imminent. Fuck it, I've worked hard for three years. I know or have at some point known my course. Is that not enough? I'm addressing all the examiners who read this.
And most annoyingly, it's getting in the way of my Imping. Revision class Monday at half five. OK, well I'll go to the rehearsal on Thursday. Wait, no, back up, have a revision seminar at half seven. There are other times. For instance, half three on a Wednesday afternoon. I don't think anyone will dispute that that is another time. It may even be the other time.
There was something I was supposed to do, but I can't remember because my younger brother keeps trying to call me, and I have to keep hanging up on him because he's distracting the thought process.
Speak soon,
Craig
But anyway, I'm starting to build up to those long twelve hour days in the library I know are imminent. Fuck it, I've worked hard for three years. I know or have at some point known my course. Is that not enough? I'm addressing all the examiners who read this.
And most annoyingly, it's getting in the way of my Imping. Revision class Monday at half five. OK, well I'll go to the rehearsal on Thursday. Wait, no, back up, have a revision seminar at half seven. There are other times. For instance, half three on a Wednesday afternoon. I don't think anyone will dispute that that is another time. It may even be the other time.
There was something I was supposed to do, but I can't remember because my younger brother keeps trying to call me, and I have to keep hanging up on him because he's distracting the thought process.
Speak soon,
Craig
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Hey,
Quick pointer to this. Add us now, and stop having to check us so often.
I got an offer for a place at Univ. At least I'm in and I don't have the uncertainty anymore. I think I had kind of assumed I'd get in at St. Anne's but it's likely they may have been full up, and I did know it was never a dead certainty as a second choice. I may even be living in North Oxford, which by most university members speak means, "Further up Banbury Road than St. John's." Still, I'm still going to be around. And full of juice, as ever.
Speak soon,
Craig
Quick pointer to this. Add us now, and stop having to check us so often.
I got an offer for a place at Univ. At least I'm in and I don't have the uncertainty anymore. I think I had kind of assumed I'd get in at St. Anne's but it's likely they may have been full up, and I did know it was never a dead certainty as a second choice. I may even be living in North Oxford, which by most university members speak means, "Further up Banbury Road than St. John's." Still, I'm still going to be around. And full of juice, as ever.
Speak soon,
Craig
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Hey,
It would seem like the new term is upon us, and it would also seem like this is some form of a last term for me. Apart from, of course, I'll be back next year with all new features and a Masters course and some shinier shoes. And I won't be on the fucking undergraduate mailing list and have to listen to the utter drivel that is Dickpuppet, our JCR Entz rep.
For example, todays email. "Do you wanna get wasted this weekend?", it starts. Oh yes! Yes please! Sign me up for that getting wasted! Is there a queue? Of course there is. That's what happens when you try act just like everyone else.
And then: "Bad news: Collections. You're gonna get a third. Good news: Collections are not finals. Better news: Bop this Saturday night at Green bar."
In short, you're dumb, but don't worry, because you can drink instead. That'll show them you're not dumb. Instead, how about "Bad news: I'm still Entz rep for one more term. Good news: I will eventually have to leave the job. Better news: This may be sooner than expected, depending in part on the relative position of the bullet, the bullet chamber it occupies and the firing mechanism, after one spin." Now that's entertainment.
Speak soon,
Craig
It would seem like the new term is upon us, and it would also seem like this is some form of a last term for me. Apart from, of course, I'll be back next year with all new features and a Masters course and some shinier shoes. And I won't be on the fucking undergraduate mailing list and have to listen to the utter drivel that is Dickpuppet, our JCR Entz rep.
For example, todays email. "Do you wanna get wasted this weekend?", it starts. Oh yes! Yes please! Sign me up for that getting wasted! Is there a queue? Of course there is. That's what happens when you try act just like everyone else.
And then: "Bad news: Collections. You're gonna get a third. Good news: Collections are not finals. Better news: Bop this Saturday night at Green bar."
In short, you're dumb, but don't worry, because you can drink instead. That'll show them you're not dumb. Instead, how about "Bad news: I'm still Entz rep for one more term. Good news: I will eventually have to leave the job. Better news: This may be sooner than expected, depending in part on the relative position of the bullet, the bullet chamber it occupies and the firing mechanism, after one spin." Now that's entertainment.
Speak soon,
Craig
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Hey,
Quick post, because, let's be honest hear, it's late of time. I have been with John for a couple of days. We had a good time and he asked me if I'd like a bath. I said no, so he carried on alone. Oh, the opportunities wasted. He did get to learn first hand how much of an ingratiating son of a bitch I truly am, and joins Cath in this knowledge. I learnt how much of a miserable get (intentional, before anyone says anything) he is around his family.
Cath is on her way back. I await her landing with some reservation because she is coming by car. A landing at this point would be highly irregular. Nethertheless, is a word. She will be back in Cardiff by tomorrow night. I will there before, having dinner on her mother (as opposed to the table) and ingratiating myself as only I know how. With a knife and fork.
Speak soon,
Craig
Quick post, because, let's be honest hear, it's late of time. I have been with John for a couple of days. We had a good time and he asked me if I'd like a bath. I said no, so he carried on alone. Oh, the opportunities wasted. He did get to learn first hand how much of an ingratiating son of a bitch I truly am, and joins Cath in this knowledge. I learnt how much of a miserable get (intentional, before anyone says anything) he is around his family.
Cath is on her way back. I await her landing with some reservation because she is coming by car. A landing at this point would be highly irregular. Nethertheless, is a word. She will be back in Cardiff by tomorrow night. I will there before, having dinner on her mother (as opposed to the table) and ingratiating myself as only I know how. With a knife and fork.
Speak soon,
Craig
Monday, April 11, 2005
Hey,
Oh this is good.
In the 1980s and early 1990s, there was a wrestler called the Ultimate Warrior. The only reason he gained any fame is because he had an incredible physique, and because the WWF at the time was all about those who looked the part, and very little about those who could actually, you know, wrestle. He was given the WWF Title for that reason, and though it was hoped he would replace Hogan as the big draw, it never quite worked out that way.
Often, the most interesting thing about old wrestlers is what happens to them afterwards. Many can't stop, clinging to their glory days for as long as possible until their bodies give out, the years of drug abuse catch up or they become Govenor. All true. The Warrior is, and I mean this in the most exact meaning of the word, a nut. He had his name legally changed to the Warrior, won the legal rights to the persona of Titan Sports after a five year struggle and built up a world where he lives the character he played through public speakings and his website, www.ultimatewarrior.com.
And he is an extreme conservative activist. Recently he claimed that "queering don't make the world work" (read more here and, upon being asked a question by a student from the Middle East, advised him to "get a towel". As I say, a nut. But as fun as laughing incredulously at this, and I quote Bill Hicks here, "humongolous mongoloid" is, reading this article on Something Awful is just so much better. It's an exchange of letters between SA's Rich Kyanka and the Warrior's Director of Communications over the Awful Link of the Day that featured the Warrior's website. It starts off as faintly riduculous with it's claims of libel and intellectual property theft, but by the end, it is so surreal it is untrue. I can't recommend reading it enough.
Speak soon,
Craig
Oh this is good.
In the 1980s and early 1990s, there was a wrestler called the Ultimate Warrior. The only reason he gained any fame is because he had an incredible physique, and because the WWF at the time was all about those who looked the part, and very little about those who could actually, you know, wrestle. He was given the WWF Title for that reason, and though it was hoped he would replace Hogan as the big draw, it never quite worked out that way.
Often, the most interesting thing about old wrestlers is what happens to them afterwards. Many can't stop, clinging to their glory days for as long as possible until their bodies give out, the years of drug abuse catch up or they become Govenor. All true. The Warrior is, and I mean this in the most exact meaning of the word, a nut. He had his name legally changed to the Warrior, won the legal rights to the persona of Titan Sports after a five year struggle and built up a world where he lives the character he played through public speakings and his website, www.ultimatewarrior.com.
And he is an extreme conservative activist. Recently he claimed that "queering don't make the world work" (read more here and, upon being asked a question by a student from the Middle East, advised him to "get a towel". As I say, a nut. But as fun as laughing incredulously at this, and I quote Bill Hicks here, "humongolous mongoloid" is, reading this article on Something Awful is just so much better. It's an exchange of letters between SA's Rich Kyanka and the Warrior's Director of Communications over the Awful Link of the Day that featured the Warrior's website. It starts off as faintly riduculous with it's claims of libel and intellectual property theft, but by the end, it is so surreal it is untrue. I can't recommend reading it enough.
Speak soon,
Craig
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Hey, seriousness follows.
I was reading the Economist's special briefing on the upcoming election, and I skim over the section about immigration, which reminded me of a rant I wanted to do a while ago. And here's the thrust.
Is there ONE decent reason why their should ever be any limits on immigration?
One, if people are seeking asylum, why should there be any limit to the numbers we can accept, as a developed country that cares about the well-being of people in poorer, tougher or criminal states. Two, if people want to come to our country to work, then the more the merrier. Three, if, as the more conservative papers would have us believe, there are people coming into the country to "sponge" of our welfare state, then surely it's not just immigrants that are doing it but the natives as well, and so that is the "fault" of the social security system.
To my mind, a well designed social security system provides a decent standard of living for those who for whatever reason could never earn much because they can not contribute much to society (or are not able to, or are not given the chance to) WHILE not giving disincentives for those who are more able or productive to contribute to our society. It should be an insurance against misfortune, where the risk is borne entirely by the state, who can afford to, not the individual, who can not. That way, everyone is better off.
Now, if their are individuals who are coming to the country just for our welfare state, why are they any different to the natives in terms of choosing to work or not? Why would they react differently to the options this country presents? The only reasonable conclusion is that they are like those not working in the UK that they can either not find work, or have little to offer in terms of productive ability, in which case they are better off just taking social security. And these people must move because wherever they are from, we provide for the worse off better than all the other countries they could live in. We are very good at charity, as the Tsunami appeals showed, but somehow it seems we are only OK with sending money and aid, not helping people have better lives for daring to ask to live amongst us like they are the same.
So what actually happens? Asylum seekers may be turned away for fear they may be bogus, and those that are allowed in struggle to find work, or aren't allowed to work, so they have to rely on state help (the little there is) to survive. Still, near starvation is so much better than political or religious persecution, so they should be thankful, right? People resort to desperate tactics to sneak past borders because they can't make it in through legal channels because we're clamping down. And we treat these people like criminals, rather than the victims. If everyone who wanted to come to Britain could come to Britian, there would be no people smuggling, not trafficking, not senseless deaths and exploitation of women and children desperate to leave their homeland and get into a place they think may look after them better. All there would be is a chance for people to make a better life for themselves.
Which brings me to my final point. Why is there such a thing as looking after your own first? I think, correct me but I think, that we all one people inhabiting one planet and because of that no-one has the right to claim someone deserves a different shot at life simply because they were born somewhere else. They don't just have to accept that. We don't just have to accept it. Looking after our own is fucking EVERYONE.
I was reading the Economist's special briefing on the upcoming election, and I skim over the section about immigration, which reminded me of a rant I wanted to do a while ago. And here's the thrust.
Is there ONE decent reason why their should ever be any limits on immigration?
One, if people are seeking asylum, why should there be any limit to the numbers we can accept, as a developed country that cares about the well-being of people in poorer, tougher or criminal states. Two, if people want to come to our country to work, then the more the merrier. Three, if, as the more conservative papers would have us believe, there are people coming into the country to "sponge" of our welfare state, then surely it's not just immigrants that are doing it but the natives as well, and so that is the "fault" of the social security system.
To my mind, a well designed social security system provides a decent standard of living for those who for whatever reason could never earn much because they can not contribute much to society (or are not able to, or are not given the chance to) WHILE not giving disincentives for those who are more able or productive to contribute to our society. It should be an insurance against misfortune, where the risk is borne entirely by the state, who can afford to, not the individual, who can not. That way, everyone is better off.
Now, if their are individuals who are coming to the country just for our welfare state, why are they any different to the natives in terms of choosing to work or not? Why would they react differently to the options this country presents? The only reasonable conclusion is that they are like those not working in the UK that they can either not find work, or have little to offer in terms of productive ability, in which case they are better off just taking social security. And these people must move because wherever they are from, we provide for the worse off better than all the other countries they could live in. We are very good at charity, as the Tsunami appeals showed, but somehow it seems we are only OK with sending money and aid, not helping people have better lives for daring to ask to live amongst us like they are the same.
So what actually happens? Asylum seekers may be turned away for fear they may be bogus, and those that are allowed in struggle to find work, or aren't allowed to work, so they have to rely on state help (the little there is) to survive. Still, near starvation is so much better than political or religious persecution, so they should be thankful, right? People resort to desperate tactics to sneak past borders because they can't make it in through legal channels because we're clamping down. And we treat these people like criminals, rather than the victims. If everyone who wanted to come to Britain could come to Britian, there would be no people smuggling, not trafficking, not senseless deaths and exploitation of women and children desperate to leave their homeland and get into a place they think may look after them better. All there would be is a chance for people to make a better life for themselves.
Which brings me to my final point. Why is there such a thing as looking after your own first? I think, correct me but I think, that we all one people inhabiting one planet and because of that no-one has the right to claim someone deserves a different shot at life simply because they were born somewhere else. They don't just have to accept that. We don't just have to accept it. Looking after our own is fucking EVERYONE.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Hey,
Just so you know, Wrestlemania was a good show. There, now you know.
I am full of the loathing for my throat, which appears to be trying to hurt me to death. It has also mentioned to the rest of my body that this is a fun pastime, so the rest of my body is having a go too. But I come and blog, because I care. I have two more eight hour shifts this week and I'm pretty sure, I'm pretty sure, they aren't going to be fun. A hunch, or something.
So to compensate, I went and watched two hours of Yes, Minister. Hacker: We could rock the boat and let it out of the bag. Bernard: You can't put boats in bags. It is beautiful.
Speak soon,
Craig
Just so you know, Wrestlemania was a good show. There, now you know.
I am full of the loathing for my throat, which appears to be trying to hurt me to death. It has also mentioned to the rest of my body that this is a fun pastime, so the rest of my body is having a go too. But I come and blog, because I care. I have two more eight hour shifts this week and I'm pretty sure, I'm pretty sure, they aren't going to be fun. A hunch, or something.
So to compensate, I went and watched two hours of Yes, Minister. Hacker: We could rock the boat and let it out of the bag. Bernard: You can't put boats in bags. It is beautiful.
Speak soon,
Craig
Monday, April 04, 2005
Hey,
Early morning as I've dropped Cath off at the train station for her final two weeks in France. Decided not to go back to bed because sleep is for the week and I
Well, its half ten now, as it appears I rested my eyes. I must have ended up with my nose on the F key because the entire page was full of F's when I stopped resting my eyes. I deleted each one individually, and then I realised I could have just selected them all and deleted them as one. So I spent another half an hour filling the page with F's, and did so. Then my computer crashed, losing all my work, and so this posted, and remains lost in the Internet. If you find it, could I have it back please.
My plan for the day involves Wrestlemania, which was last night, and I didn't stay up for the first time in 25 years. If Eddie-Rey goes 15-20 mins, if they lucha it up, and if there's a finish, it'll steal the show. Given that its going to open the card, this is a double edged sword. On the plus side, it will go with Bret-Owen and Midnights-Southern Boys as the greatest US opener of all time. By comparison, everything else won't be as good, and that's three and a half hours of not being so good, so thats not so good. If the crowd stay with it then it'll be OK. Otherwise, they are screwed.
And I'm going to continue to talk wrestling while I'm here. Go away if you don't care. I've been watching a load of classic US from the very early 1980s recently, from the Mid South territory. It is quite excellent, especially the tag team wrestling which is such a dead art. The Fantastics are the great lost fan favourite team, and the crowds are just manic for them. I love it all.
Speak soon,
Craig
Early morning as I've dropped Cath off at the train station for her final two weeks in France. Decided not to go back to bed because sleep is for the week and I
Well, its half ten now, as it appears I rested my eyes. I must have ended up with my nose on the F key because the entire page was full of F's when I stopped resting my eyes. I deleted each one individually, and then I realised I could have just selected them all and deleted them as one. So I spent another half an hour filling the page with F's, and did so. Then my computer crashed, losing all my work, and so this posted, and remains lost in the Internet. If you find it, could I have it back please.
My plan for the day involves Wrestlemania, which was last night, and I didn't stay up for the first time in 25 years. If Eddie-Rey goes 15-20 mins, if they lucha it up, and if there's a finish, it'll steal the show. Given that its going to open the card, this is a double edged sword. On the plus side, it will go with Bret-Owen and Midnights-Southern Boys as the greatest US opener of all time. By comparison, everything else won't be as good, and that's three and a half hours of not being so good, so thats not so good. If the crowd stay with it then it'll be OK. Otherwise, they are screwed.
And I'm going to continue to talk wrestling while I'm here. Go away if you don't care. I've been watching a load of classic US from the very early 1980s recently, from the Mid South territory. It is quite excellent, especially the tag team wrestling which is such a dead art. The Fantastics are the great lost fan favourite team, and the crowds are just manic for them. I love it all.
Speak soon,
Craig
Friday, April 01, 2005
OK, OK, shut up. It's been weeks, man, and there are perfectly good reasons. First I was all in France, and then I was all in Center Parcs, and through that I've been all in work and all in revising and all in all, I haven't had time for this, is all.
Anyway, none of that stuff makes interesting reading, so let's concentrate on other things. Such as Christopher Ecclestone deciding not to do a second series of Dr. Who in case he got type cast. Type cast? As the fucking Time Lord? If people only want to think of me as being able to play one charachter, it's Dr. Who. "Hey look, that's that guy. What's his name." "I don't know, all I know is he controls time." Top of the list of things to be type cast as. And secondly, how many roles can there be, outside of Dr. Who, for the charachter of the Time Lord.
"Hey, Chris, I've got you a great role in this new romantic comedy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you meet this girl, can't be with her because of her ex-husband, and then you travel around the temporal realm saving the Earth along the way, and in the end, you finally get the girl"
"Not again. Jesus, I've told you. No more travelling in time and saving the Earth. I'm finished with that. Go get me a cup of Tardis. I mean tea."
I leave you with this final thought. Posing for the cameras while talking to a group of disabled children is always good publicity, unless they were your victims.
Speak soon,
Craig
Anyway, none of that stuff makes interesting reading, so let's concentrate on other things. Such as Christopher Ecclestone deciding not to do a second series of Dr. Who in case he got type cast. Type cast? As the fucking Time Lord? If people only want to think of me as being able to play one charachter, it's Dr. Who. "Hey look, that's that guy. What's his name." "I don't know, all I know is he controls time." Top of the list of things to be type cast as. And secondly, how many roles can there be, outside of Dr. Who, for the charachter of the Time Lord.
"Hey, Chris, I've got you a great role in this new romantic comedy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, you meet this girl, can't be with her because of her ex-husband, and then you travel around the temporal realm saving the Earth along the way, and in the end, you finally get the girl"
"Not again. Jesus, I've told you. No more travelling in time and saving the Earth. I'm finished with that. Go get me a cup of Tardis. I mean tea."
I leave you with this final thought. Posing for the cameras while talking to a group of disabled children is always good publicity, unless they were your victims.
Speak soon,
Craig
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