So this is my “last two weeks” blog to ensure I do not fall on to the “LIST OF DOOOOOOM”.
What has happened to me in the last couple of weeks? I am in the process of starting my Uni life. Ah yes, the joys of a reclusive non-drinking non-smoker. I am truly living the highlife.
That said, I do enjoy going to bars and nightclubs and just watching people. At the Freshers ball I watched a man walk into a door and apologize very politely. The following is a dramatization of the moments as I and my friend leave the party (This is a girl who I just appeared next to at the Welcome BBQ. She seems to have soured on my craziness though as you will get from her reaction. Such is me.)
Me: I just saw a drunk guy apologize to a door.
Friend: Oh that is so fucking interesting, you pussy.
Me:….MY GIRLFRIEND WAS DECAPITED IN A CARCRASH!!!
Other Guy: Is that true?
OG: That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.
My brain: Score!
A Note to Jancis' Future Girlfriend(s)
Hey there future honeybunny. Firstly, thanks for checking my blog to see what sort of guy I am. I can assure you that the whole Faith thing is way behind me. I don’t even return her calls. Second, you maybe worried that I spend a lot of time threatening to kill off previous paramours. I just want you to calm down. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you while you were drunk after the party. You know which one. You wore the black thing. Funny story, I did stand over you with a butcher’s knife for four hours while you were crashed out on the couch. Bet you’re glad you didn’t wake up, eh?
Hugs and kisses
Lessons haven’t really started yet. I have been set work to write and learn a monologue. Yes, it’s full of my usual love of life and belief in mankind. Simply it is the monologue from a play I will never write. So expect a mention of it in some of my other work. I am nothing if not a plagiarist. (Note to journalists of the future looking for a quote to use for a story on me and using that quote: I stick my penis inside your wife AND your mother.)
So today I started my brand spanking new regime. With added spanking. You know when you get a hankering for a spankering you slams hand in drawer . Okay I’m back. So when we were given our reading list it had an entry for “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron. After tricking me with not only having a book but a textbook I was told I needed to write “three pages” everyday. But three pages of what? Well, anything I liked but it needs to be free hand and as soon as I wake up. Supposedly it would inspire me to be a better artist. Though the examples they gave were lawyers remembering they love the dance and so become ballet dancers. Maybe doing this would insure I never fall off my chosen path. Thanks book. You’ve made me a better me!
That said it does say I have to basically thank God for my talent and make sure to pray.
Of course, the book says, it doesn’t HAVE to be God. No, just some overruling being that controls and moulds me into a better person.
With that in mind I am now a follower of Pallas Athena/Minerva. I call her Pam.
I’m now sad as I imagine a dusty goddess awaking in a cave somewhere in Greece thinking that she is once again loved and needed. Well come to me, oh Athena. I shall keep you with me. We can have a sitcom full of misunderstandings and you setting your owl upon noisy drinkers who wake you up. (Please post any ideas for a title or plotlines of my magnus.)
Speaking of my new patron here she is. The second part of the “Artist’s Way” was once a week I had to go on an “Artist’s Date”. The way she describes it is that my artist is like a moody lover so take her to an art museum or clothing shop. Then she will love you again and you can have a good week! (For more on treating your muse as a lover: see Simon & Garfunkel’s “Cecilia”. )
Anyway Pam and I went on a walk and decided to visit the Southampton Art Gallery. There they had a collection of Burne-Jones’ portraits of Perseus. So I spent some time remembering my love of the Greek myths and why I got involved in this stupid game of acting/writing anyway. (It’s for the money and the woman)
This was my favourite picture because it made me go “Hmm. Medusa. Oh yes. I have a short story collection I was supposed to finish.” In an ideal world, every story would have a picture that was a redoing of a famous piece. If only I had an artist as a friend. Oh Kieran why did you have to go so cold on me? What of our love? Our love for ART? (Seriously, call me. I miss you.) [Yes we are aware how gay it all seems. You don’t need to tell us. K THX BYE]
(PS. When seen on canvas, the picture doesn’t look as if someone has scribbled notes on it. The writing is less….extreme when five foot tall.)
Afterwards I had a rice lunch and looked in the local library then wandered the streets like the homeless man I will be in a few years. So basically it has been a nice day. One I will never have the like of again once they make us do things. Oh well.
I’m not sure if Mrs Cameron would be happy that I have taken her way of finding inner piece as an excuse to have yet another woman haunt my sleep. Because the best women are the ones who sit at the end of your bed and tell you you’re going to die cold and alone with 19 imaginary cats and drawers full of three pages of your pointless life.
(Oh lord. I know this is all going to come back to bite me if I ever have a drug problem “I’m not depressed!” “Well, your blog says you’re haunted by a Greek goddess.” “Who isn’t?”)
That’s the thing with the morning pages. It says to write whatever we feel or want to say, never mind how disjointed the thought. I’m like “Hellllo! Have you ever met me? I don’t do disjointed!”
Speaking of the Panama Cannel, they finally fixed the TV so I can watch Heroes. How sad it is to watch people getting excited over it and you know that people are hating it over the pond. That said, look out for the answer to whether dear ol’ Sylar is a zombie or not.
Oh Sylar. Large Eyebrow Crew, Rep-re-sent!
Of course channels 1-5 run 66, 68, 67, 69, 65. Stupid dyscalculiac television. Just joking. You mean I get to watch House when it comes back. For that I still like you. But only as a friend.
On that bizarre note I’m calling this a blog post.
You are a blog post.
4 years ago