The Days

The Days

(woken by the mid-morning sun)

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I am in love with the internet and this is why.

The Pickled Apple Dominic Self! Robert blogs sometimes! Abbi is certainly a vigilant blogger! Make out with yourself. But I know too that the blackbird is involved in what I know. Amber Segal blogs! Man, what can't you do with a drunken sailor? I wanted to aspire to a higher path (but there's no higher path) Red Delicious He talks about bees so much! Love is for the living, Sal

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(no subject)

[Jun. 15th, 2009|09:13 pm]

[	Tags	\|	history, memory, nostalgia	]
[	In my ears is:	\|	In My Secret Place- The Magnetic Fields (IT'S IRONIC)	]

By the way, I've been blogging for about two years and three months now, although I only just realised this.

Wow.

This was my first ever blog post:

" I would love to say that I started this blog because of peer pressure, but although many of my friends do keep blogs, most of them don't care whether I do, and so do not pressure me, meaning that this was done all of my own accord. It's a shame, because I am ashamed of owning a blog. Why, I hear you purposely not ask. Well, I’m not sure. Probably because this is going to end up as a tactless attack on everything. With bad spelling.

Ah, well.

Now, I have heard that blogs are meant to have some substance, instead of being just reflections on spelling. It is true that the last time I reflected upon spelling, I ended up reflecting upon spieling. Which was a lot more fun.

Perhaps we will save the substance for next time, when something may have happened in my life worth blogging. For now, Hello! Who are you? Tell me! Make me feel popular and comment!

Ah, now… How do I save this?"

So much has happened since then. I feel that I can say truthfully and without risk of exaggeration that my life has properly and thoroughly changed since then.

Ah, nostalgia.

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(no subject)

[Jun. 14th, 2009|08:57 pm]

[	Tags	\|	love life, music, social life	]
[	I am feeling rather	\|	chipper	]

Right. So.

By now most of you'll know that DF and I broke up- either from the impressive demon that is Facebook or because I told you beforehand- and, if I know my social circle (which, really, I must do at least to a certain extent or else they'd not be my social circle), you'll be wondering why and how and blah and blah.

And I guess I might as well tell you, at least some of it, although I assure you it isn't all that interesting.

So I broke up with him, for the simple reason that I wasn't happy, that he wasn't making me feel happy any more, that he and the whole relationship thing was, indeed, making me feel rather annoyed and depressed by turns. The whole actual conversation wasn't particularly cheering- I won't relate it to you here, it's was more or less how you'd imagine. (Clichés, I swear to God, actually define modern relationships. As some guy said on a forum (The xkcd one, it's fine), "Imagine if I had feelings for someone and tried to express them independent of cliché and stereotype and cartoon elements. I'd be Charles Dickens." ) But we went for food at the noodle place we always go to when we're around Bookmarks (as we were- I'd been working) and it was truly and really and genuinely nice. It was nice in a way seeing him hadn't been for ages.

Which left me fairly confused.

I'll leave it at that for the moment, but to say that we're seeing each other on Friday, going to the British Museum, as we have so many times, relating to each other in a different way each time (it seemed). In the meantime, life is.

Also: is a concept album based on David Koresh and the Waco seige deeply insensitive? I don't know, I can't decide, but I Don't Care if it's True is a good song, even in preview state. But then, it's an Indelicates thing (even if they aren't The Indelicates while doing it), so that's to be expected.

They are good with politics, though. I'd recommend Simon Clayton's blog (which has a reeeaaallly good explanation of artifical scarcity on it) any day, and, I mean, are the lyrics to Our Daughters Will Never Be Free not expressing the same ideas as, say, Female Chauvinist Pigs?

This is what we want: we want to be made
Your manufacture for our decade
Saying worldly, and clever, and honest we are
We'll prove it with reference to our last seminar

We dance, and we sing of a love we're not in

And the boys and the times and the pints and the shots
All we recall of a time we forgot
Apparently this is the way one should be
Some clever boy said so- it feels fine to me.
We sing and we dance and make eyes at their heads
Have photographs taken to make us look dead

They dance and they sing
Of a world they're not in
Their lives are improved by the things that we do
We're special enough to get paid

And we all know the real song but we won't sing along
'cause our boyfriends and girlfriends and parents will say
Don't be a square, grow your hair and be happy
It's not god that made you this way

So lift up your top
Lift up your top
Lift up your top, got to use what you've got
Try not to see anything but the fee
It's all tongue in cheek anyway!

We've highlighted lines in the books of Why Not
But the women back then were extremists the lot
I'm have control of my gender, my sex.
Every whore that I've heard of is free of regret
I think it's fine just to make people smile,
I think it's fine to force people to smile.
Make me a dolly, make me a princess,
Make me your baby, make me your goddess

Rape me and beat me.
Rape us and beat us.
Rape us and beat us 'til we're black and blue,
We made it ok on the day we said nothing
Was better than something to say.

What our foremothers fought for was peachy and swell
But hey they forgot to be mothers as well
Instead of our fathers, our sisters did say:
Let's just be pretty, it's more fun that way

Let's just be pretty
Let's just be beautiful
Let's just be retro and disco and twee
We don't know the song so we can't sing along
And our daughters will never be free.

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1 speaker!Argue!

(no subject)

[Jun. 13th, 2009|11:28 am]

[	Tags	\|	clothes, peope, social life, work	]
[	I am feeling rather	\|	nervous	]
[	In my ears is:	\|	The Blues Are Still Blue- Belle and Sebastian	]

Yesterday was quite thoroughly good. Biology exam in the morning, but that was easy, then tea with Sanna which was lovely. I can never stop talking when I'm having tea with Sanna. We talked about the sexualisation of youths and Alice-and-Jakov and Newquay.

Sadly, she couldn't come shopping with Abbi and Alice and Emily and me. Nonetheless, that too was brilliant and I feel much more as if I own clothes now. A couple of vest tops, a sweater-vest-cardigan-thing, two skirts, some downright pretty underwear, a long cardigan, and jewelery galore.

So that was good.

I'm at work now- having just put out about two hundred books, I feel I deserve a short break- looking forward to having leftover Chinese food for lunch.

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(no subject)

[Jun. 9th, 2009|06:58 pm]

[	Tags	\|	education, exams, peope, physics, poetry, social life	]
[	In my ears is:	\|	Wave of Mutilation- Pixies	]

( By Clachan Bridge )

Robin Robertson

I remember the girl
with the hare-lip
down by Clachan Bridge,
cutting up fish
to see how they worked;
by morning's end her nails
were black red, her hands
all sequined silver.
She simplified rabits
to a rickle of bones;
dipped into a dormouse
for the pip of its heart.
She'd open everything,
that girl.
They say they found
wax dolls in her wall,
poppets full of human hair,
but I'd say they're wrong.
What's true is
that the blacksmith's son,
the simpleton,
came down here once,
fathomed her, and buckled.
Claimed she licked him
clean as a whistle.
I remember the tiny stars
of her hands around her belly
as it grew and grew, and how
after a year, nothing came.
How she said it was still there,
inside her, a stone-baby.
And how I saw her wrists
blue-bangled with scars
and those hands flittering
at her throat,
to the plectrum of bone
she'd hung there.
As to what happened
to the blacksmith's boy
no one knows
and I'll keep my tongue.
Last thing I heard, the starlings
had started
to mimic her crying,
and she'd learned how to fly.

Ugh. Today, I do not feel entirely happy. Sometimes I think it would have been so much better if I'd met him fifteen years later. The worst thing is that it's all my fault, or perhaps that I was so happy just a month ago. Maybe-maybe-maybe it will all sort itself out. It wouldn't be the first time.

On the other hand, I am looking forward to Newquay a lot. Maybe that's not entirely on the other hand- it'll be an escape. Then again, I am also looking forward to it for itself, and because I miss the psuedoironics. Ah, it will be good indeed.

Physics exam tommorow. The opposite of an objective lens is an eypiece one. The brightness of stars can tell us how far away they are. Their light can tell us what they're made of.

</div>

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1 speaker!Argue!

On Education, or, Rather, On Exams

[Jun. 2nd, 2009|11:55 am]

[	Tags	\|	books, education, entertainment, exams, films, kurt vonnegut, language, maths, politics, reading, vietnam	]
[	I am feeling rather	\|	productive	]

Hallo!

Since we are about half-way through the GCSE period, let's review, shall we? It's indulgent as a hell made out of chocolate, but, probably, it's better than a complete absence of blogging.

Firstly, Mathematics is over. This is big, this is important, this is absolutely wonderfully brilliant. I don't like how much I hate maths, especially since, on the rare occasions that I have understood it, I have seen the satisfaction I suppose you maths types take from seeing numbers click into place. It's sad that a whole subject area, one that can actually give us some objective understanding of the world is so closed off, but you have to try and understand how frustrating it is when it's all nonsense.

Of course, I may well be wrong when I say it's over. It is only true if I've passed, which is possible, but certainly not definite.

What else? Humanities is over. Meh. Drama, obviously, has been over for ages, except that I'm doing it next year. English Literature had some decent questions. Today's English Language- Kurt Vonnegut (oh my god yes, Kurt Vonnegut! In an exam!) and climate change- justified my years of reading books that seemed to be quite irrelevant.

History will be difficult tomorrow, and Chemistry even harder than that on Wednesday.

Yesterday, I dragged out Grim Fandango and started playing it again. Jesus; I knew it was good. I remembered that I liked it. But I'd forgotten precisely how good it is, how immersive, how well made, how funny, how real. I love it; then again, love is for the living. Meanwhile, I'm reading, strangely, Goldfinger, because one of my aunts gave it to me. I'm surprised by how enjoyable it is. It's perfect for reading during exams, because although pages and pages of descriptions of a game of golf do not fascinate or educate, it's a good book to read in fractured sessions, each lasting perhaps only a page. Besides, it offers a stark contrast to revision.

During half-term, I caught this film at midnight on the television called Jacknife, about two Vietnam vets and how one of them's dating the other's sister. My judgement may not have been at is best, but I remember it as being really rather good, and would like to reccomend it.

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2 speakers!Argue!

(no subject)

[May. 24th, 2009|06:04 pm]

[	Tags	\|	cycling, happiness, reading, revision, summer, weather, weekend	]
[	I am feeling rather	\|	chipper	]

Hallo!

My God, it is a beautiful day! I haven't seen sunshine like this for ages. The sun, the warmth: the people, really. I went, finally, to get my bike from the grandparent's place today, and I was dreadfully nervous at first. But once I got to the park, and was forced to act confident so as not to make people scream, run, and hide, I found that it was easy as anything. God, it's fun. It's been so long.

I've been avoiding blogging- in part to stop attention being drawn to that awful photo of me on Dominic Self's Feed Mix, but also because nothing in particular has been happening. Revision (not enough), hanging out with DF, exams, food, work, novels.

Like on Friday, when DF and I went to the Science Musuem (we looked at the hundreds and hundreds of model boats, mostly), and had lunch in this place that does a great won ton noodle soup I know nearby, and then went to buy a book for his mother. Agathy Christie, in the end. She learnt English (she's German) from reading Agatha Christie, he says, and this is why he speaks like someone from the nineteen forties- mixed with a handful of American slang terms from the crime novels he reads.

What with work (and pizza) yesterday, and cycling (bare-legged, might I add) today, it's been a good weekend in the middle of a good unidentifiable time-splodge.

(OH, and anyone feel like seeing The Book of Job: The Musical (which is written by Simon Clayton of the Indelicates (and features Julia Clark-Lowes, of the same)) on the fourth of June with me?)

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2 speakers!Argue!

On School and Work

[May. 16th, 2009|03:47 pm]

[	Tags	\|	education, work	]
[	I am	\|	1 Bloomsbury Street	]
[	In my ears is:	\|	Guns of Brixton	]

So. I'm at work, with the Clash playing in the background (appropriate politically, innapropriate bookshopily), trying to make my blogging look like something offical and formal for the customers, and I just found out that Bookmarks has a blog. Jesus. This is quite cool.
Anyway. Last day of compulsory education yesterday, exams not counting as education for obvious reasons. This really boils down to three main points:

No more uniform
No more Sarah B., Zaynab, Yong, and various other leavers
No more maths

So that's alright.

Now, to organise the magazine rack. Goodbye.

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