Friday, March 28, 2003

"Lepporello, Some Hay - Prestisimo!"

Well I'm the king of the swingers, woah
The jungle VIP
I've reached the top and had to stop
And that's what's a-botherin' me!

Mood : Focussed
Music : Don Giovanni

Ack, last day and night for a while of total and utter freedom. Don't get me wrong, I love going home (not doing my own washing up is for example a great great thing) and I love seeing my parents and wife and all, but I also enjoy the freedom I get up here. Tonight I am going to get nicely toasted and read Baudelaire before I have to spend a month at home without drugs revising and finishing my dissertation. And finish my packing of course.

Ever have that thing where when you're studying something there's one song that keeps going round and round your head? I have deduced (from the fact that I can see no other connection between Prometheus and Blur) that the reason why whilst trying to revise "Prometheus Unbound" I had "Country House" taking a lazy loop trip around my cerebrum, is that it reminds me of Shelley. Seriously, it's not just me, it kind of sounds that way if you (a) listen to the lyrics and (b) know a little about Shelley;

And so the story begins...

City Dweller, successful fella,
Thought to himself "Oops I've got a lot of money"
Caught up in the rat race terminally
"I'm a proffessional cynic, but my heart's not in it,
I'm paying the price of living life at the limit"
Caught up in the century's anxiety
Yes it preys on him
He's getting thin

This should be obvious really; Good Ol' Percy would indeed have had a bit of money (before his father cut him off anyway) since he was heir to a Baronetcy (He would be been Baronet of Horsham incidentaly - the title later went to his son, Percy Florence) And the rest? Well... didn't he spend a while bimbling about going "oooh Nature so pweety, City bad.." And of course, he *was* pretty thin.

He lives in a house, a very big house in the country,
Watching afternoon repeats and the food he eats in the country,
He takes all manner of pills and piles up analyst bills in the country,
Oh its like an animal farm, lots of rural charm in the country

After my rants about the Vindication of Natural Diet you should be able to see straight through this one - and as for the pills and analyst bills, that should also be fairly obvious. Serious case of the jitters, that lad.

He's got morning glory and that's a different story,
Everything's goin' jackanory
Touched with his own mortality,
He's reading Balsac, knockin' back Prozac,
'it's a helping hand that makes you feel wonderfully bland'
Oh it's the century's remedy for the faint at heart, a new start - so simple!

No comment. None whatsoever. I don't need to say anything at all about this verse, it's far far too self-evident
He lives in a house, a very big house in the country,
He's got a fog in his chest so he needs a lot of rest in the country,
He doesn't drink, smoke, laugh, takes herbal baths in the country,
He says you'll come to no harm, on the animal farm in the country
In the country (ooh ooh ooh)
In the country (ooh ooh ooh)
In the country!

Again I say, yep - no comment.

That was really entirely pointless, but this is possibly my last 'blog entry until Sunday or maybe Monday night, so I couldn't think of anything to say. *sigh* see you all then I suppose.... Hasn't the term gone quickly?

Thursday, March 27, 2003

Goth Buffy???!!

Oooooooohhh.. this is a story 'bout a guy named Al
And he lived in the sewers with his hamster pals
But the sanitation workers really didn't approve
So he packed up his accordion and had to move

Mood : Tired but happy
Music : Slept So Long, The Vampire Lestat

So here I am, back again for a day on campus, just because I am so desperate to be able to use a desktop machine that I would rather come and be trapped in a stuffy lab with no tea than have to use the dreaded laptop. Though to be honest if last night's entry is anything to go by, I'm getting better at typing on it.

This morning I am wearing my DMs, black jeans with a wide belt, a mesh shirt with my "Serial Killers Are People Too" t-shirt, a studded bracelet, I have heavy eye make up and my hair in a high ponytail, and am of course wearing my cross, which I very rarely actually remove. If you can picture that outfit (and more to the point) picture me in it - will someone PLEASE explain why Sir Whinealot reffered to me as "Goth Buffy" today?? Grrr, am not Buffy-Like....

Speaking of vampire slayers (and yes I kind of was, in a roundabout sort of way) I watched some of Ultraviolet again last night. It was OK the first time around because I hadn't seen Coupling and thus did not know about Jack Davenport being Steve, but this time - having seen a lot of Coupling - I found myself being totally unable to take the main character seriously because I kept going "But it's Steve! Steve the Fearless Vampire Hunter, heee hee!!!" *sigh* it's like the Frank Spencer/Phantom of The Opera syndrome, where you find yourself totally unable reconcile accident prone beret-wearing failure moron with gives-you-chills well-dressed sex-on-a-stick come and get him while he's hot what am I saying he's ALWAYS hot.... well I do anyway. It's the voice. Micheal Crawford was cute for three years, I've said it before and I'll say it again. And I want his albums - just not the Disney one - nothing could possibly disturb me more that getting turned on by his gorgeous voice and then having the sudden flash of realisation that the guy I'm perving over the voice of is about sixty, has a plastic hip and orange skin, and that more to the point the song I'm getting off on is from The Lion King. There's just not enough Ewwwww! in the world.

Well, I suppose I'd better actually get on with something productive now. I've got large amounts of water and have had breakfast, what more could I possibly need? Well, right now some fresh air would be nice, the lab air makes me feel all muzzy in the head - it's so dry and hot and smells of computers. However, the air I'm breathing may be too hot, but my liver has decided it's gone on strike again so I'm absolutely freezing. Typical!

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

Theories? You Want Theories??

I've got a theory, that it's a daemon
A dancing daemon - no, something isn't right there

Mood : Yeeeeeaaaah....
Music : Mandy, Barry Manilow

Theories. I have a whole bunch of those - many of you have probaly have heard them before, though nobody (unless they're one of those people who sit around with me when I'm altering my consciousness in some way) will have heard all of them. I Theorise;

That "Weird Al" Yancovic is at the very least primary stage anorexic
That if you ever totally understand the world and its purpose, it flips on its head to spite you (I got this from someone, tell me who!)
That you don't percieve music with your ears
That the hardest thing is the world becomes easy with practice
That opera is most beautiful when you don't understand the words, but do know the story

My most relevant theory however is this; that if it feels right and does nobody any harm, you should do it. I like the odd gin and tonic, just the one usually but a couple can be nice. Just becuse normally, 99% of the time, I don't drink doesn't mean I can't enjoy the occasional tipple.

Huzzah for gin and wonderful lovely wives!

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

Blog Of The Day #2 : Compulsive Working

I've not heard of girls returning.
It is a murky, mystery place.
I may not have had much booklearning
But I've got charms to win the race.

Mood : Creative
Music : "Stumpside" Rasputina

*sigh* OK, Sal wasn't in her office, neither was Andrew Tate, and crazy political guy (Mike Sanders) is leaving for the US on Friday (again I say crazy) and is too busy to look at my paper. Ohhh welll.... guess I'll just have to send it off without approvals. Never mind.

Now that I have done all the essays for my degree, I have my dissertation to do. I refuse to work on my dissertation at Uni as it will involve carting around very large amounts of heavy books and I'm fairly certain that

a) My bag won't take much more abuse
b) If I take all the books I need, I just know I'll end up not using half of them and hence resenting the carrying of them.

So the dissertation is sitting partly in a two foot high pile on my table and partly in the sadly defunct Miss Daae, in a format which nobody else in the known universe uses that won't talk to any other wordprocessing package. That's very me really isn't it? Having an obscure and antisocial WP kind of fits me quite well. A bit like my distaste for very sweet things and my love of pickles and salt biscuits. Of course, hobnobs are not truly sweet, plain hobnobs have just that tiny edge of saltiness that makes them OK, especially if you dip them in a nice cup of tea. That's what I really hate about working on campus, the lack of nice cups of tea freely avaliable. They should instal vending machines that make proper tea - or since the amazing modern technology we have is still incapable of making anything faintly resembling a nice cup of tea - a small army of tiny people to bring you tea while you work. Not too tiny, you understand, otherwise they wouldn't be able to carry the cups - I mean, that should just be obvious. What are you, stupid?

So anyway, what I'm actually doing in defending Salieri. I do not know or understand why I am doing this, or why I have spent 2778 words and several hours of time which I could have spent rereading Don Juan doing so, but the fact is that I have done it, and continue to do it. I'm totally and utterly incorrigible. I wonder what 'corrigible' involves? Does it have anything to do with Korrigans, I wonder? I've never seen a Korrigan, and strongly suspect that they are a fiction invented by strange Swedish girls with bad eyesight and an Electra complex.

Will someone please tell me what they slipped into my coffee this morning?
Scooting In

"Dinner, are you mad?! I am a nobleman,
I only ever dine with people of my own height!"

Loads of people do this and I can't be bothered to get the actual thingie with icons, but here you go

Mood : Poetic
Music : "Anytime" Sarah Brightman

Sooo, yes. I'm timewasting until I can turn up at Sal's office hour which starts at 10am. It' 09.58am, and I've promised myself I won't even get up from this (evil, public, uncustomised) machine until 10.05am. Don't want to give Sal the impression I'm desperate for her company. I've a good mind not to show her the paper anyway, she'll only criticise the fact I haven't footnoted anything but direct quotes from the Vindication. Why is it you can't get away with actually *knowing* things in academic essay - why do you always have to footnote every tiny piece of information? Grrr.. darned annoying if you ask me.

OK, I'm not going anywhere near Sal's office yet, but I am wandering off to get breakfast with Sir Whinealot. Or rather to annoy/talk to him while he has breakfast. Organised Woman here made her breakfast last night and only had to get it out of the fridge this morning :) More 'blog later I promise.

Monday, March 24, 2003

Blog Of The Day #3 : More Tests

What Is Your Animal Personality?

brought to you by Quizilla

Star light,
star bright,
what images will I see tonite?

Which drug should you be hooked on? [now with pictures]
brought to you by Quizilla

You see the world in Gray
You poor, depressed child. A rain cloud seems to
follow you everywhere. The worst has always got
to happen doesn't it? Life is miserable.

What color do you see the world in?
brought to you by Quizilla

Blog Of The Day #2 : Summing Me Up

I hadn't heard this song for ages, it was on one of the tapes Angelus brought with him last week, and it has never spoken to me more clearly. This is exactly how I feel right now. If you haven't heard the song, you really should do as it is lovely.

Homeward Bound : Simon and Garfunkel

I'm sitting in the railway station. Got a ticket to my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands, my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band.
Homeward bound, I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping, Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting, Silently for me.

Every day's an endless stream, of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And every stranger's face I see reminds me that I long to be,
Homeward bound, I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping, Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting, Silently for me.

Tonight I'll sing my songs again, I'll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
Homeward bound, I wish I was, Homeward bound,
Home where my thought's escaping, Home where my music's playing,
Home where my love lies waiting, Silently for me, Silently for me.

That's me all over, particularly now - but I remember listening to that song in the old Fiat Uno on the way up to London with my mother when I used to go to work with her in Whitechapel. The first person to make a joke about me 'working in Whitechapel' will get a free punch in the face.
Conspiracy Theory

"Damn you! You little prying Pandora!
You little daemon! Is this what you wanted to see?
Curse you! You little crying Delilah!
You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free"

Tech does it on purpose you know. The Universe has a balance which must remain even - this is why if one couple in your immediate group of friends splits up, two more of them have to get together to redress the overall Couple Equilibrium. This phenomenon has been noted over and over again and cannot be denied, and I'd love to do a scientific study into it if I had the time.

You see, on Saturday I had a really lovely day. I got plenty of sleep, wandered out to Campus because it was a lovely day and I had plenty of factor 30, took my time bimbling up looking at all the pretty rivers and trees and daffodils in a worryingly Lake School manner, had a pleasant coffee with Cuz and Ell, went shopping to spend the vouchers I had had festering in my purse since January. I got a mesh shirt in New Look and a faith hope and charity necklace - Rake bought me one when I was at school and I adored it, but I accidentally forgot to remove it before a performance once and threw it at Sophie when I caught my hand in it during a particularly fast turn. Now, since I haven't actually danced on stage since I was 17 years old, that's how long I had been looking for a replacement, so now I have one - yay me! I also discovered how enjoyable it can be to spend fifteen entire minutes agonising over whether a crinkle-fabric bell sleeve shirt will look better in black, white or sand. I went for black in the end (now there's a shock) but the other 2 colours were lovely as well :( Oh well, love the new top! Got my pictures developed - I have a fantastic one which I will treasure from the cocktail party with a few of my best friends looking horrendously happy - including Byron, who appears to be singing a football song if her expression is anything to go by. I wouldn't know, I don't remember taking it! Also [poinged at Mr Jez and the Alcoholic who saluted my bounciness and discussed natural philosophy with me for a bit. Then I wandered happily homewards for some mushroom pasta and work on my Aristotle essay.

Miss Daae was switched on, got halfway through loading the OS, and powered herself down. After a pause, I figured I must have not turned her on properly (smutty remarks please) and tried again. Same result. And again, and again and again, until I was spent, and called the Jellicle to help with my predicament. Only problem was, he was busy packing to go home on Sunday and didn't have time to fix it. So I had to come use a campus machine. I AM STILL WITHOUT MY DESKTOP because Sir Whinealot refused to fix it last night saying he was going straight to bed, and then proceeded to stay up another couple of hours. And he's at work today and will quite probably be too tired to fix it tonight as well. *sob* Chrissssssstiiiiiiiiiine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Why have you broken in my hour of need?!!!!!

That really spoilt my mood. And now I'm trapped on campus until 5PM with the upside that if need be I can go infest Rollerboy's room later, and that I will probably get my essay for the call for papers done today. I would have had to come onto campus at some point today anyway as I have a dissertation meeting (which needless to say I have nothing to turn in for because of Miss Daae having a tantrum. It is truly galling to have to say "My computer broke" especially when it's actually true) and have to hand my Aristotle essay in. At least there's no stress about that, I've had it done since Saturday night, it's sitting beside me just waiting for a cover sheet and to be handed in, and sinmce philosphy don't do that nasty thing of setting a time for essays to be in for, I'm OK. That's my last ever essay unless you count my Dissertation, which I'm trying not to. I'm going to have to do the consultation for it via email over the holiday aren't I? *heavy sigh* I need a drink.... NO! Bad Shelley...

Right, I'm now just prattling about stuff. But it's my 'blog, I can do that if I like. Unfortunatly I seem to have run out of stuff to prattle about. I think I've finally entered essay-writing mode (why couldn't that have happened when I was doing my Modernism essay? I got there about halfway through Romanticism) and may go faff about my my vegetarianism paper for the Keats/Shelley memorial trust. Sounds really important when I say it like that doesn't it? *smiley rat* woo hoo, I'm a big important essay writing person! I also have a paper on Cultural Relativism as envinced in The Nightmare Before Christmas which I intend for buzzing in my skull (did you catch the in-joke?) which I will probably have done for the end of the week. I certainly will if Miss Daae stops sulking and lets me use her (again, please with the smut)

By the way, the reason for my computer being named Miss Christine Daae should really be self-explanatory; The computer is indubitably female, and I spend most of my time either damning and cursing her, or entreating her with wheedling whines to do my bidding.