Can I even use that phrase?
Probably not.
I just did though. I think everybody should be allowed to spazz out once in a while.
It's probably healthy.
After spazzing out, I've bought some tickets to fly home for a few days next week. I think this will cheer me up.
Can't wait to save the moo-lah and move back to my 'home' for good.
:D
Monday 25 January 2010
Sunday 24 January 2010
In reponse to postcard fiction...
I sipped the whiskey. It was neat and cheap as far as whiskey goes, something you would probably get from your local newsagent - the kind stored behind the till, next to the collection of tobaccos, an unspecific brand you've never even heard of before. It was harsh, coursing down my throat as if it were full of needles. I didn't flinch, just took another sip and let out a heavy sigh. My hand remained vice-like around the glass. I stared at the lone ice-cube melting into my drink and then I stared right through the glass. I stared into nothing, into eternity for an immeasurable amount of time. I could feel the despair leaking into my thoughts, mocking my melancholy and whispering the rumours. I pushed the glass round the top of the table, my mouth morosely dropped as my eyes followed the pattern my glass traced out in the puddle of condensation beneath it. The grease sat on the table as a second veneer, resisting the water snail-trail that glistened against the darkened room. I swirled the cube of ice around my drink, letting it clink against the edges. It noise seemed so loud in the empty pub. I imagined the landlady staring so hard at me, she was boring a hole into the back of my head. I put the glass back onto the table and gulped down some of the air. It was damp and solitary. I shifted uncomfortably on my seat. The land lady cleared her throat, I turned round instinctively. She had her head buried in a newspaper. The rumours came hurtling back to the forefront of my mind. The hushed voices speculated about my life; my wasted life. I had to stop thinking, thinking is just too dangerous. The ice had melted. I lifted my glass up to the window, where the fading sunlight struggled in. I finished my drink and with only a hint of a pause, took my empty glass to the bar and left.
Saturday 16 January 2010
THE MADNESS
And, I ask you, WHAT THE HELL HAVE THEY DONE?
How, Just how could you do this to such a lovely bug? And... I ask you to notice...
an old split screen at that?
Heinous crimes! I wish I could rescue her! This, my friends, is what is wrong with the 80's.
Thursday 14 January 2010
French Interview
Ohhhhh god.
Curses. Swear. Insert filthy language here. Curses. Curses.
Today was awful.
I went to Bordeaux for a job interview (to be an English teacher).
This proved harder than I thought. The person giving the interview spoke no English at all. Trying to convey my ideas and teaching methods with a limited French vocabulary (probably more the fact that my grammar is totally shit) was very taxing. I persevered through 25 minutes of speaking French and discussed lesson plans etc. I forgot half of what I had wanted to say and spoke worse French than normal because in the pressure of the moment I was incredibly tongue-tied. The TEFL course I did taught you to teach English by immersing your students in it - not allowing your students to speak anything but English in a lesson. You should only use their mother-tongue as a last resort. I am quite happy with this methodology, understand the principles and the ways the teacher should teach English, but the person interviewing thought it necessary that I should be fluent in French. She asked me if I was currently taking lessons, etc etc. SO after stealing my teaching ideas - which she was very impressed with as they were creative and engaging, unlike the French method of listen and write, she said she would email me, but I bet I don't receive a response. At least I understood everything she said and she understood me. The other English teacher they have is French and the person who was being interviewed after me was also French, but a part of me thinks they should have an English person teaching English - not just for better pronunciation, but I think it's important to learn the idioms of our every day language, our obscure sayings and quirks... "It's raining cats and dogs" "A little bird told me" "A lick and a promise" "I've got an axe to grind..."
hehehe, ah well, nothing ventured nothing gained - a rolling stone gathers no moss.
Curses. Swear. Insert filthy language here. Curses. Curses.
Today was awful.
I went to Bordeaux for a job interview (to be an English teacher).
This proved harder than I thought. The person giving the interview spoke no English at all. Trying to convey my ideas and teaching methods with a limited French vocabulary (probably more the fact that my grammar is totally shit) was very taxing. I persevered through 25 minutes of speaking French and discussed lesson plans etc. I forgot half of what I had wanted to say and spoke worse French than normal because in the pressure of the moment I was incredibly tongue-tied. The TEFL course I did taught you to teach English by immersing your students in it - not allowing your students to speak anything but English in a lesson. You should only use their mother-tongue as a last resort. I am quite happy with this methodology, understand the principles and the ways the teacher should teach English, but the person interviewing thought it necessary that I should be fluent in French. She asked me if I was currently taking lessons, etc etc. SO after stealing my teaching ideas - which she was very impressed with as they were creative and engaging, unlike the French method of listen and write, she said she would email me, but I bet I don't receive a response. At least I understood everything she said and she understood me. The other English teacher they have is French and the person who was being interviewed after me was also French, but a part of me thinks they should have an English person teaching English - not just for better pronunciation, but I think it's important to learn the idioms of our every day language, our obscure sayings and quirks... "It's raining cats and dogs" "A little bird told me" "A lick and a promise" "I've got an axe to grind..."
hehehe, ah well, nothing ventured nothing gained - a rolling stone gathers no moss.
Monday 11 January 2010
Monkey-Monkey
Monkey-Monkey lived in a tree house above the Crystal Lagoon in the tropical jungle of Mount-Bumba. Monkey-Monkey was not the best behaved of monkeys and often found himself getting into big-baboon trouble and his ever-suffering mum was tired of hearing his ill-thought out excuses, which only served to prove that Monkey-Monkey was the most heinous of liars.
A couple of weeks ago, Monkey-Monkey painted all the ostriches pink whilst they had their heads stuck in the ground. When they pulled their heads into daylight, Monkey-Monkey told them they had turned into flamingoes. Now, you would have to be pretty intellectually challenged to believe such a statement, but where do you think the term 'bird-brain' originates?
“Monkey-Monkey, if you don't behave, the men will come and get you!” Monkey-Monkey's mum would say to him when he was up to mischief. This scared Monkey-Monkey a little bit because he had seen Gorilla's who had their hands cut off, but Monkey-Monkey always shrugged off his mothers transparent threats.
Last week, Monkey-Monkey's uncle came to visit. He was fat and balding and Monkey-Monkey thought he was a bit of an orang-utan at times. He sat in the tree branches drinking tea in a sloth-like manner while his idiotic offspring clung to him and imitated his every move in a way that the other monkeys considered 'cute' but Monkey-Monkey saw it for the revolting attention seeking behaviour that it was and took his chance at punching his little monkey cousins whenever nobody was looking. While Monkey-Monkey's uncle was visiting, Monkey-Monkey swung by to his Uncle's tree-house and located his hidden stash of fermented fruit. With a loud, excited shriek, Monkey-Monkey invited a few of his primate pals over and they feasted to the point of inebriation.
When Monkey-Monkey got home he was quite sick. Monkey-Monkey told his mum that an elephant had encouraged him to do it, saying that if he ate all the fermented fruit then he would become just like a human and that would mean that 'the men' would never be able to come and get him.
“Monkey-Monkey, you should have been born a cheetah!” Monkey-Monkey's mum would shout when she was at her wits end. Monkey-Monkey sometimes wished he had been born a cheetah and thinks his mother's narrow-minded bigotry in stereotyping a whole race of animal was nothing short of out-of-date racism that would get him into much more trouble than his usual cheeky antics, (or even physical violence, for that matter) should he repeat it at school.
One morning, Monkey-Monkey heard a horrible noise, unlike any animal noise he had heard EVER before. 'Bang-Bang-Bang' went the awful noise.
“Thud-a-Thud”
“Crack-Crack-Crack”
“What could this racket be?” Thought Monkey-Monkey.
“Monkey-Monkey? What is all that noise? What are you up to?” Monkey-Monkey's mother was as red as a baboon's behind.
“It wasn't me!” Monkey-Monkey retorted. “I don't know where the noise is coming from!”
“You've been upsetting our neighbours again, haven't you?” Monkey-Monkey's mum put her hands on her hips, she was fuming!
“No.... I've been asleep!” Monkey-Monkey protested.
“I'm fed up of your lies Monkey-Monkey!” She said. Monkey-Monkey knew from her face that she was about to go ape.
Then came the shouting, “Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim-ber!” followed by a huge crash.
Monkey-Monkey and his mother rushed to the window, suddenly they were very afraid.
The men were coming.
A couple of weeks ago, Monkey-Monkey painted all the ostriches pink whilst they had their heads stuck in the ground. When they pulled their heads into daylight, Monkey-Monkey told them they had turned into flamingoes. Now, you would have to be pretty intellectually challenged to believe such a statement, but where do you think the term 'bird-brain' originates?
“Monkey-Monkey, if you don't behave, the men will come and get you!” Monkey-Monkey's mum would say to him when he was up to mischief. This scared Monkey-Monkey a little bit because he had seen Gorilla's who had their hands cut off, but Monkey-Monkey always shrugged off his mothers transparent threats.
Last week, Monkey-Monkey's uncle came to visit. He was fat and balding and Monkey-Monkey thought he was a bit of an orang-utan at times. He sat in the tree branches drinking tea in a sloth-like manner while his idiotic offspring clung to him and imitated his every move in a way that the other monkeys considered 'cute' but Monkey-Monkey saw it for the revolting attention seeking behaviour that it was and took his chance at punching his little monkey cousins whenever nobody was looking. While Monkey-Monkey's uncle was visiting, Monkey-Monkey swung by to his Uncle's tree-house and located his hidden stash of fermented fruit. With a loud, excited shriek, Monkey-Monkey invited a few of his primate pals over and they feasted to the point of inebriation.
When Monkey-Monkey got home he was quite sick. Monkey-Monkey told his mum that an elephant had encouraged him to do it, saying that if he ate all the fermented fruit then he would become just like a human and that would mean that 'the men' would never be able to come and get him.
“Monkey-Monkey, you should have been born a cheetah!” Monkey-Monkey's mum would shout when she was at her wits end. Monkey-Monkey sometimes wished he had been born a cheetah and thinks his mother's narrow-minded bigotry in stereotyping a whole race of animal was nothing short of out-of-date racism that would get him into much more trouble than his usual cheeky antics, (or even physical violence, for that matter) should he repeat it at school.
One morning, Monkey-Monkey heard a horrible noise, unlike any animal noise he had heard EVER before. 'Bang-Bang-Bang' went the awful noise.
“Thud-a-Thud”
“Crack-Crack-Crack”
“What could this racket be?” Thought Monkey-Monkey.
“Monkey-Monkey? What is all that noise? What are you up to?” Monkey-Monkey's mother was as red as a baboon's behind.
“It wasn't me!” Monkey-Monkey retorted. “I don't know where the noise is coming from!”
“You've been upsetting our neighbours again, haven't you?” Monkey-Monkey's mum put her hands on her hips, she was fuming!
“No.... I've been asleep!” Monkey-Monkey protested.
“I'm fed up of your lies Monkey-Monkey!” She said. Monkey-Monkey knew from her face that she was about to go ape.
Then came the shouting, “Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim-ber!” followed by a huge crash.
Monkey-Monkey and his mother rushed to the window, suddenly they were very afraid.
The men were coming.
Sunday 10 January 2010
BLAH BLAH BLAH
Sunday. The end of another week. I can't tell you how immeasurably boring my life has become. I have left my house once (to do food shopping) in the past 17 days. I know I should be making good use of my time, but I have nothing but the stultifying dreariness of the typical repetitive drone to endure on this cycling basis. Where has the randomness gone? Instead I've got this autistic wet-dream of predictable routine and I swear it's destroying my sparks.
I started writing a half-assed screen-play, but I don't think it's that imaginative. I'll finish the first episode then post it to mes copines to attack with witchy brutality.
I think I'm going to go and chew my toe-nails for another season.
CHOW
I started writing a half-assed screen-play, but I don't think it's that imaginative. I'll finish the first episode then post it to mes copines to attack with witchy brutality.
I think I'm going to go and chew my toe-nails for another season.
CHOW
Tuesday 5 January 2010
New Year
I hate new year. Honest.
It's over-rated, the whole cycle of shit to start again and nothing but more acid bile to consider.
I think, why the fuck should I be considering anything? I'm young, I still have loads of time to be an obnoxious little bastard, so what's the point in worrying or even considering anything else?
I did realise, though, as I entered the new year, that this is my fourth decade and that made me feel old.
That wasn't the reason I then spent a few days vomming up my poor guts in bed though. I have a feeling I'm allergic to a certain pain killer, for I have only taken it twice and each time I spent 2 /3 days running a stupidly high fever, going hot-cold, not being able to drink anything, let alone eat anything and spewing up the contents of my insides. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't get so dizzy I couldn't see. That's the worst bit, I like having a good read when I'm sick. Still, I'll not use those pain killers again in a hurry.
I've decided I am such a lazy bastard that I need some structure, even if it's quite vague to fill my pointless existence. At the moment it has been procrastinate all day followed by a walk the dog. I'm going to aim to fill my days with something a bit more errr 'profitable' (in the self-worth sense at least) and make more of an effort with my French learning and pointedly do a bit of writing... even if it means me sitting staring at the blinking monitor for a few hours every day.
I did apply for three jobs today. Hmmmm, I hate stupid application forms.
Now I'm posting on my blog and listening to Rammstein... this is anything, anything to avoid the fact that I should be writing something worthwhile... Oh cock.
It's over-rated, the whole cycle of shit to start again and nothing but more acid bile to consider.
I think, why the fuck should I be considering anything? I'm young, I still have loads of time to be an obnoxious little bastard, so what's the point in worrying or even considering anything else?
I did realise, though, as I entered the new year, that this is my fourth decade and that made me feel old.
That wasn't the reason I then spent a few days vomming up my poor guts in bed though. I have a feeling I'm allergic to a certain pain killer, for I have only taken it twice and each time I spent 2 /3 days running a stupidly high fever, going hot-cold, not being able to drink anything, let alone eat anything and spewing up the contents of my insides. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't get so dizzy I couldn't see. That's the worst bit, I like having a good read when I'm sick. Still, I'll not use those pain killers again in a hurry.
I've decided I am such a lazy bastard that I need some structure, even if it's quite vague to fill my pointless existence. At the moment it has been procrastinate all day followed by a walk the dog. I'm going to aim to fill my days with something a bit more errr 'profitable' (in the self-worth sense at least) and make more of an effort with my French learning and pointedly do a bit of writing... even if it means me sitting staring at the blinking monitor for a few hours every day.
I did apply for three jobs today. Hmmmm, I hate stupid application forms.
Now I'm posting on my blog and listening to Rammstein... this is anything, anything to avoid the fact that I should be writing something worthwhile... Oh cock.
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