Friday, April 11, 2003

Blog Of The Day #2 : Feckin' Regression...

This is driving me nuts going round and round my head ever since I stopped writing bits of Black Rose (that's a working title, but I like it) and I'd just like to purge it from my system but quoting, in their entirity, the lyrics that are really starting to bug me. As if the Bleeding White Rose soundtrack wasn't freaky enough (nobody should ever put Nick Cave tracks, the Moonlight Sonata, and You Are My Sunshine on the same CD but it's going to happen one of these days) this and Morning Glory and The WIld Rover are definatly going on the Black Rose soundtrack. May I present to you, in order to purge me of its influence, The Rake at The Gates of Hell;

I'll be with them asleep and dreaming
I'll be there when they wake with screaming
At the hour of death then I will nurse them
To have a moment more to curse them
Watch the maggots crawl out of them
Hear the angels call above them
Watch them as the cold air sucks them
Down to hell, goodnight, God love them
If any should escape above me
Beg and cheat until they trust me
Drag them down to be damned with me
Laugh at them as they forgive me

Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds,
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight

I wish that they could walk forever,
On the earth, alone, unfettered
Til they pray for consolation,
Til they beg for sweet damnation
Then I'll come and bring them water,
Bring them hope, bring them laughter
Raise their hopes so sad and sunken
Slash them up as they lie there drunken
Push them down into the foul mud
‘Til they choke upon their own blood
Drag them out before their last breath
To take away the mercy of death

Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight

Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the Gates of Hell tonight

Mother's eyes are sparkling diamonds
Still the moon shows no light
This rose is withered, may God deliver
The rake at the gates of hell tonight


That feels somewhat better. There's not much worse than the feeling where you get all choked up watching "The Prodigal" and keep going around humming stuff like Fields of Athenry. Good thing nobody has mentioned the Titanic to me in the past couple of days, or they would have been in for the verbal lashing of a lifetime. Matter of fact, I may go for the Titanic rant at some point, purely because at least I can't tell if you give up listening halfway through something that's written down. Aside from that, I think I'll try and avoid writing more Black Rose until my dissertation is sorted out for good.

The number of things I'm setting aside for when the dissertation is finished is becoming quite phenomenally huge.
Ne Illegitimi Carborundum

They call me the Hapless Boy Lard
Why they call me that I do not know
It's because you're a fat useless pillock
Yes, I suppose so...


Mood : Pass me the Punjab lasso, or a bottle of gin.
Music : Don Juan, Gluck

There is an order in which things should be done in this world. Nick Cave THEN Shirehorses is the correct order of hearing. There is just no way you can ever really appreciate the beauty of "Where The Wild Roses Grow" and "Henry Lee" if you've already heard "Hapless Boy Lard" and "Frannie Lee" which is a dreadful shame. However, having spent all day listening to Murder Ballads on a roll, I think I'm over the automatic parody substitution and I now want a shower and an early night.

Heard back from my dissertation supervisor today about my new sections. I've discovered the problem with her and my work (which possibly also explains the palaver over Hartley and Godwin) appears to be that we do not actually speak the same version of the English language. For example, I said to her;

I found it impossible to keep the story structure of the combat myth and obey Kant's principles

she replies;

Quite what do you want the relationship to be between the combat myth and the discussion of Kant? Is the question you are trying to address: Could there be a combat myth of this kind in which all or some characters behaved according to Kantian morality?

In refference to a passage which reads:

It would seem then, that it is still impossible to formulate a course of action that would keep the combat myth structure intact, yet obey Kant's Imperative

It's not just me is it? The question I'm asking is in fact perfectly clear, and more than that, so is my statement of what the relationship in question is. Yes I do go into more detail in the actual dissertation, no it doesn't change that statement one jot. No it doesn't matter if the words "combat myth" or "Categorical Imperative" are double-dutch to you, my point stands. Moreover, it would appear that in addition to speaking a foreign tongue, my ideas are only valid when it can be clearly and conscisely shown that such ideas are in fact *her* ideas. Ahh... I see the problem.... take this for example. I explain;

I wanted to look at a contradictory theory purely because the discrepancy between Kant's theories and the characters actions are so huge, and am now examining the same scene from a Utilitarian viewpoint

She replies;

Perhaps you could say; since in no version are the characters truly Kantian... we could consider other ways of understanding moral behaviour. Utilitarianism for example, with its emphasis on consequences, would be one such possible alternative

Phew, glad that was cleared up. For a second there I almost thought I had an original idea - what a travesty to the educational system that would be! You know, I think it's disgusting that people who want nothing more than people to work on what they are told to work on should have power over my work. The Slayer has the same problem - we both get told "Your work is excellent, but you must learn to play by the rules"

What would have happened if Mozart had played by the rules and done what he was told? You want to know? NOTHING. No huge popularity, no vast celebrations at the centenery of his death (1991, people, in case you'd forgotten) no films, no plays. Obscurity, just like some of his contemporaries who DID just do what they were told.

*sigh* the upshot is that she likes my dissertation now and thinks the external examiners will too. The downside is that I'm utterly disgusted with myself. I feel like I've abandonned my principles for the sake of not getting a hiding from Papa when I fail my degree because of not playing by the rules. The other upshot is that I now won't fail and get a hiding. The other downside is that right now I'm feeling very very snappish. Woe unto anyone who crosses me tonight in the slightest way, and bear in mind that crossing me can be as small a thing as pointing out that I have a hairpin out of place.

OK I'm going to go and have that shower now. By the way, 'blogging may become even more infrequent over the next week, am housesitting with MouseWouse and Replacement Phantom, which should be some sort of insane bibbling trip-and-a-half really. Faintly smiley rat....

Monday, April 07, 2003

Magnum Opus

There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea


Mood : Exhausted
Music : Confutatis Maledictis (voca me cum benedictus) WA Mozart

So Boots are closing their Well Being shops, huh? Good oh, never even noticed they were there in the first place. Me and shops is a little like Big Yellow Taxi, I never know they're there until they close. Except when they're stores I go to a lot like the arts shop on the corner of the high street in Lancaster, the one that sells some really nice coloured inks.... but in any case, these Well Being shops apparently offered holistic healing, reflexology, aromatherapy, yoga, facial saunas and botox injections. Yes, you heard me correctly; massage points, essential oils, Ayur-Vedic stretch and tone and injections of the toxin that causes fatal food poisoning. *sigh* well it's not as bad as the Goode Olde Dayes I suppose. Back in the Victorian Era it was common enough for women to use arsenic as a facial rinse, eat the stuff, put deadly nightshade in their eyes, and of course squeeze their feet and internal organs into places and shapes that they really should never have been. And there was backboards, but let's not get into that one. Please.

But in any case; my magnum opus. I have a bad bad feeling that I will never ever stop studying Phantom in all its many incarnations. I'm going to end up writing books on it, I can feel it in my bones. You see, I wrote almost all of a dissertation on it, got told it was "insuficiently philosophical" and set about doing what I could to change bits. Of course you know me, I can't edit, I just write something new - and I'm about halfway through writing an almost totally new dissertation on it. This means not only will I have something to hand in that may please the examiner better, but also I have almost all of one and that's still nowhere near all of the work I've got planned on it. Heavy sigh. I'm going to end up one of those dreadful people who know everything there is to know about a tiny obscure reseach area, and get employed to teach on the area into which that subject falls, go bonkers and write a million or so papers on the subject because my brain no longer functions on any other wavelength.

Ho hum... so I've handwritten seventeen sides of A4, I'm now typing up, I had tofu burgers for tea and "Tiny Planets" just wasn't so cute without my Mouse Wouse here... *sniffle*

Sunday, April 06, 2003

Blog Of The Day #2 : Smallville

Ok I'm watching Smallville (I hasten to point out that I do not watch it normally) and there's the *cutest* guy. He writes poetry, and he's all pale and skinny and his parents lock him up in the basement. Apparently he's been dead for years but they found out he went through a medical experiment and now he runs off before dawn.

Reminded me of someone. Particularly when shovelling chocolate cake down as if he hadn't eaten for twenty years.

Going to write while I watch. This is too good to miss... Ooh, they're trying to break into the house where Goth Guy is, his name by the way is Byron, snigger.... he doesn't like light.. hell no.... ooh it would appear sunlight REALLY HURTS and he just threw stuff about and his face has gone screwy.

I'm ashamed of the writers. A perfect opportunity to raise the profile of one of the least known and least researched, yet most crippling and debilitating, genetic diseases, and what do they do? They decide it was all the fault of a medical experiment. It would have been so much better if they'd let it all build up with the fog and the poetry and the being locked up, and then given a perfectly normal medical explanation for it. Would have been far more of a twist than this bull.

Giving up on Smallville. It is, as I expected, a big pile of trash. Ohh well.....
Ho Hum

Something's here I cannot see
What does it mean!
WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!


Mood : Studious
Music : Dany Elfman - Jack's Obsession

One of these days I'll try and remember to bring The Nightmare Before Christmas with me when I go back to Canterbury. Then maybe I won't be here two days and then go "Hmmm, I really want to watch it. Curses!" - but that would of course be me being sensible.

Oh wow - I just looked round and noticed that my lava lamp looks like a frozen cloud! It's just warming up and looks really groovy. Most of my work has been done by the light of one very cool lava lamp lately - well, it's that or candlelight and the lava lamp doesn't cost me money. Candles require replacing.

OK as I was saying: I am kind of sensible really. Organised certainly and fairly good at getting things done. In fact good at that to the point where I get accused of warming time to suit me. The reason behind that is apparently that I couldn't possibly do everything that I do in the regulation 24 hours. I sort of see the point - but you know me, I wouldn't be happy if I wasn't running about doing things constantly. There's nothing I hate more than having nothing to do, as people well know. Finished my essays? Hmm, must write more stuff! Must clean house! Must work out! Must train with weapons! Bugger, knew there was something else I should have brought down. She managed to remember her charm for the Muses but not her sword. I'm a very silly person indeed.

I've started a new picture...I draw a lot, mainly because I'm frightened of losing any skill in it that I may have accquired through doing art at GCSE and A Level. To be honest I quite like the work I produced back then, and try my best to keep it up, but sometimes it's frustrating to not be able to concentrate on artwork because I don't have the space and my mind is elsewhere. But my mind being elsewhere is probably a good thing where this new picture is concerned, it's a couple dancing the Tango :) smiley rat. Still haven't decided on a medium, possibly oil pastels. My favourite piece of my work from A Level (the O'Keefe style rendering of a heart, the organ not the shape) is oil pastel, I used to be quite good with them.

Ohh speaking of organs, went to another Recital with my Lovely Lady Wife yesterday night. Wasn't fond of the Humoresque but I loved the Messaien. Mmmmmm must get..... *ahem* sorry where was I? Ah yes....

So tonight I'm probably going to be studying Kant whilst faffing about with sketches, which will be fun. Yes I've crowbarred Kant into my dissertation, yes his theories suck. Bite me, I needed easy philosophy. Categorical Imperative as applied to kidnapping, anyone?

So yes, work.