A few odd thoughts:
My chillblains are killing me. Tiny little itches all over my feet. It's now pretty painful to walk, especially upstairs. Ugh.
"Shit in the grass" is the greatest drink ever - 50% creme de menthe, 50% Baileys, 100% yummy. It looks just like it sounds, one floating on top of the other, and tastes like the liquid liquor version of Mint Cornetto. As my mum commented, it's probably better than either drink is individually, and I may just track down some Creme to top off my Baileys hoard.
And I'm in love with Stevie Wonder. Do yourself a favour and look some up - lovely warm sound, makes you want to sing straight along. To put me in the mood for writing about Blaxploitation cinema and Tarantino, I've been working through the classic funk. So I've not been having such a bad time of it - cheery music cheers you up under most circumstances, and indeed that's part my essay. The soundtrack of City of God is really far too upbeat. I'm particularly in love with "As", "Black Man", "Signed, Sealed, Delivered", and in particular, "As". What a marvellous song! It's taking all my effort not to listen it to death. I'm also surprised by just how "proggy" it is - some sections reminding me of Steve Hackett.
My essay is sort of OK, and sort of not. It's 1000 words over, and I haven't quoted any academics yet. Some serious trimming will have to happen...
I hate the internet, the promise of community and communication. In the past, you could easily go days without getting in contact with anyone. Now with the web, contact is instant and whenever you like. It's a horrible feeling that anyone could get in contact with you, but are just choosing not to. This isn't aimed at anyone in particular, so don't send me guiltstricken emails. It's just very lonely looking at the web late at night and knowing there are billions of people out there
And I hate the snow for coming late, and not stranding Friend 5 here.
And I've just found a Livejournal of a talented photoartist whose interests in Doctor Who and, um, Jack the Ripper converge to cause some lovely wallpapers of the Master in a top hat...see you in a week...
My chillblains are killing me. Tiny little itches all over my feet. It's now pretty painful to walk, especially upstairs. Ugh.
"Shit in the grass" is the greatest drink ever - 50% creme de menthe, 50% Baileys, 100% yummy. It looks just like it sounds, one floating on top of the other, and tastes like the liquid liquor version of Mint Cornetto. As my mum commented, it's probably better than either drink is individually, and I may just track down some Creme to top off my Baileys hoard.
And I'm in love with Stevie Wonder. Do yourself a favour and look some up - lovely warm sound, makes you want to sing straight along. To put me in the mood for writing about Blaxploitation cinema and Tarantino, I've been working through the classic funk. So I've not been having such a bad time of it - cheery music cheers you up under most circumstances, and indeed that's part my essay. The soundtrack of City of God is really far too upbeat. I'm particularly in love with "As", "Black Man", "Signed, Sealed, Delivered", and in particular, "As". What a marvellous song! It's taking all my effort not to listen it to death. I'm also surprised by just how "proggy" it is - some sections reminding me of Steve Hackett.
My essay is sort of OK, and sort of not. It's 1000 words over, and I haven't quoted any academics yet. Some serious trimming will have to happen...
I hate the internet, the promise of community and communication. In the past, you could easily go days without getting in contact with anyone. Now with the web, contact is instant and whenever you like. It's a horrible feeling that anyone could get in contact with you, but are just choosing not to. This isn't aimed at anyone in particular, so don't send me guiltstricken emails. It's just very lonely looking at the web late at night and knowing there are billions of people out there
And I hate the snow for coming late, and not stranding Friend 5 here.
And I've just found a Livejournal of a talented photoartist whose interests in Doctor Who and, um, Jack the Ripper converge to cause some lovely wallpapers of the Master in a top hat...see you in a week...
10:31 |
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