Monday, 30 November 2009
Overheard #24
Bloke (to another bloke): Nah, she's a slag. That's what I'm going to teach my son - there's women that you shag, there's women that you marry, and there's women that you push off cliffs. That's why the game was invented.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Nano Graph
Really, instead of 'quality I should have put 'effort', but it feels like such a massive effort even to write badly at this point...
Best Friend
Ooh you make me live
Whatever this world can give to me
It's you you're all I see
Ooo you make me live now honey
Ooo you make me live
Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine and I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
Oh you're my best friend
Ooo you make me live
Ooh I've been wandering 'round
But I still come back to you
In rain or shine
You've stood by me girl
I'm happy at home
You're my best friend
Ooo you make me live
Whenever this world is cruel to me
I got you to help me forgive
Ooo you make me live now honey
Ooo you make me live
You're the first one
When things turn out bad
You know I'll never be lonely
You're my only one
And I love the things
I really love the things that you do
You're my best friend
Ooo you make me live
I'm happy at home
You're my best friend
Friday, 27 November 2009
Final Stretch
Nanowrimo is nearly over! Due to 3 essays due in this month, I'm lagging quite a bit.
I'm currently on 38,347 words out of my 50,000 target.
My amazing computer machine has told me that in order to reach this goal by the 1st of December (four days!!) then I have to wrote 3,000 words a day. This is absolutely doable. So, in order to force myself to write this amount of words, here are my daily word count targets:
Friday 27th - 42,000
Saturday 28th - 45,000
Sunday 29th - 48,000
Monday 30th - 50,000
I shall copy the entire OED if I have to... and I may seriously have to.
Ps. Good luck Cissy!
I'm currently on 38,347 words out of my 50,000 target.
My amazing computer machine has told me that in order to reach this goal by the 1st of December (four days!!) then I have to wrote 3,000 words a day. This is absolutely doable. So, in order to force myself to write this amount of words, here are my daily word count targets:
Friday 27th - 42,000
Saturday 28th - 45,000
Sunday 29th - 48,000
Monday 30th - 50,000
I shall copy the entire OED if I have to... and I may seriously have to.
Ps. Good luck Cissy!
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Between Me And You
I don't usually tell people to buy things, but I'm telling you to buy this. Telling you. Buy it now, you utter buying this book type person, you. You can probably get it off Amazon too if you look.
Reasons to buy this book:
But Sophie, what the fuck is it? I hear you cry - well, it's a book for you to give to your grandparents full of interesting questions for them to answer for you and give it back! Yes! Make those lazy pensioners do some bloody work for a change! It's fantastic, it's like an interview, full of things you may never have the time (or balls) to find out off them.
I've given one to my Pops, and he's finished it in about a week! Crazy, but then he is a writer, so he's all about the writing down crap. That's how I know we're related, well, that and the horrendous eyebrows and disgusting sense of humour.
It's not done in a sentimental way, and neither is it done in a "Shit, you're going to die soon way - quick! Tell me everything you know!" sort of way, it's really a very good book. I'm thinking Christmas present ideas for you... oh yes, what a marvellous idea.
Find out about your grandparents before it's too late. They're probably 100x more interesting than your parents.
Reasons to buy this book:
- You don't have to read it
- It won't take up much of your time at all
- It's invaluble
- You will regret it if you don't in 20 years time
- I said so
But Sophie, what the fuck is it? I hear you cry - well, it's a book for you to give to your grandparents full of interesting questions for them to answer for you and give it back! Yes! Make those lazy pensioners do some bloody work for a change! It's fantastic, it's like an interview, full of things you may never have the time (or balls) to find out off them.
I've given one to my Pops, and he's finished it in about a week! Crazy, but then he is a writer, so he's all about the writing down crap. That's how I know we're related, well, that and the horrendous eyebrows and disgusting sense of humour.
It's not done in a sentimental way, and neither is it done in a "Shit, you're going to die soon way - quick! Tell me everything you know!" sort of way, it's really a very good book. I'm thinking Christmas present ideas for you... oh yes, what a marvellous idea.
Find out about your grandparents before it's too late. They're probably 100x more interesting than your parents.
Buffalo
Buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo. Yes, that was a gramatically correct sentence. I'll prove why:
Buffalo #1 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #2 - Noun, buffalo the animal
Buffalo #3 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #4 - Noun, buffalo the animal
buffalo #5 - Verb, to buffalo, i.e. to bully
buffalo #6 - Verb, to buffalo, i.e. to bully
Buffalo #7 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #8 - Noun, buffalo the animal
So, the sentence means, that the buffalo from Buffalo who are buffaloed by buffalo from Buffalo also buffalo the buffalo from Buffalo.
No?
The animals from the city who are bullied by animals from the city also bully the animals from the city.
The Buffalo buffalo buffalo them, so they are buffaloed Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo?
Buffalo #1 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #2 - Noun, buffalo the animal
Buffalo #3 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #4 - Noun, buffalo the animal
buffalo #5 - Verb, to buffalo, i.e. to bully
buffalo #6 - Verb, to buffalo, i.e. to bully
Buffalo #7 - Proper noun, Buffalo the city
buffalo #8 - Noun, buffalo the animal
So, the sentence means, that the buffalo from Buffalo who are buffaloed by buffalo from Buffalo also buffalo the buffalo from Buffalo.
No?
The animals from the city who are bullied by animals from the city also bully the animals from the city.
The Buffalo buffalo buffalo them, so they are buffaloed Buffalo buffalo.
Buffalo?
Monday, 23 November 2009
Poetry
If you’re perplexed by poetry,
Then you should really know:
Artistic meaning is something
Only you can bestow.
If E.E. Cumming’s an illiterate fool,
Or Sonnet 18 is a farce,
Then this is something that must be true,
To you, albeit quite harsh.
If the Tate can have art that’s a urinal,
Or a gigantic crack in the floor,
Then why can’t a poem be spelled slightly wrong?
If there’s a reason that it is there for.
As long as you have an opinion
Then you’ll never be incorrect,
Because apathy’s the worst thing
That anybody could expect.
So don’t be scared of Keats’ beats,
Or Milton’s Paradise Lost,
Don’t fear the wrath of Sylvia Plath,
And for fuck's sake don’t think it has to rhyme.
Shockingly bumpy, I know, but I'd like to think the sentiment defeats any criticism it might face. Woop woop! Critical immunity!
Then you should really know:
Artistic meaning is something
Only you can bestow.
If E.E. Cumming’s an illiterate fool,
Or Sonnet 18 is a farce,
Then this is something that must be true,
To you, albeit quite harsh.
If the Tate can have art that’s a urinal,
Or a gigantic crack in the floor,
Then why can’t a poem be spelled slightly wrong?
If there’s a reason that it is there for.
As long as you have an opinion
Then you’ll never be incorrect,
Because apathy’s the worst thing
That anybody could expect.
So don’t be scared of Keats’ beats,
Or Milton’s Paradise Lost,
Don’t fear the wrath of Sylvia Plath,
And for fuck's sake don’t think it has to rhyme.
Shockingly bumpy, I know, but I'd like to think the sentiment defeats any criticism it might face. Woop woop! Critical immunity!
Nano Update
I'm so ridiculously behind on my nanowrimo. I'm about 7,000 words behind. On a good day, I can write about 2,000 words. I'm hoping that since now I've got no essays due in for a little bit, I can slowly build up my word count. Time is tick tocking away... Eeep!
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Creating
"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
-- George Bernard Shaw
-- George Bernard Shaw
Would With For
Hello.
I've found this website. It's basically a little experiment, where they get people to fill in the blanks. The template reads:
“I would…
With…
For…”
and the website people expect to get a lot of freaky answers in those empty boxes... and they are right to expect this. I've had a little look at what people have written, here are some examples:
I would kill that bitch
With a mallet
For you.
I would sleep
With you
For free
I would fuck
With batman
Forever
I would give up everything
With no regrets
For you
I would eat soup
With bread
For my dinner
I would kill you
With a shovel
For being so mean
I would insult your mother
With contempt
For a good laugh
I would sleep
With a midget
For a short time (deliberately funny pun?)
I would watch pulp fiction
With you
Four ty five times
I would shimmy
With Boris Johnson
For days on end
Something which is obvious is that most of them relate to sex, violence, and quite a few of them are just the words shit and fuck repeated. This website is called 'Bad Words' for a reason, obviously. If people are given anonymous creative reign, they will usually produce something that is highly emotionally charged, whether it's violent, sexual, depressive or otherwise. It's very interesting. What was mine?
I would write
With gusto
For as long as possible.
What would you say?
I've found this website. It's basically a little experiment, where they get people to fill in the blanks. The template reads:
“I would…
With…
For…”
and the website people expect to get a lot of freaky answers in those empty boxes... and they are right to expect this. I've had a little look at what people have written, here are some examples:
I would kill that bitch
With a mallet
For you.
I would sleep
With you
For free
I would fuck
With batman
Forever
I would give up everything
With no regrets
For you
I would eat soup
With bread
For my dinner
I would kill you
With a shovel
For being so mean
I would insult your mother
With contempt
For a good laugh
I would sleep
With a midget
For a short time (deliberately funny pun?)
I would watch pulp fiction
With you
Four ty five times
I would shimmy
With Boris Johnson
For days on end
Something which is obvious is that most of them relate to sex, violence, and quite a few of them are just the words shit and fuck repeated. This website is called 'Bad Words' for a reason, obviously. If people are given anonymous creative reign, they will usually produce something that is highly emotionally charged, whether it's violent, sexual, depressive or otherwise. It's very interesting. What was mine?
I would write
With gusto
For as long as possible.
What would you say?
Monday, 16 November 2009
Mick Shakespeare
Shakespeare is Mick Jagger.
Bear with me.
No, seriously, there's a bear with me... it's mauling my face... oh christ... no, not really, I'm just kidding. My theory is that Shakespeare was the Mick Jagger of his time. He was young (for 30 years or so), rich and famous. Oh, and he was a slag.
Christopher Marlowe, on the other hand, was Jeff Buckley. He arguably and comparably had more talent, but died too young to get very much done. Shakespeare was all crotch-thrusting and no Faustus.
This is, of course, my idea that I thought of at 2:53 in the morning. I'm not as yet sure whether it was more of a thought, or an excuse to look at Jagger's effing disgustingly beautiful face*. Having written about 3000 words of my nanowrimo, my brain feels like it's filled with scrunched up bits of newspaper, except there are no words on this newspaper - there's no words whatsoever in my brain anymore. They've all been typed out and are now a nonsensical pulp on a secondary school toilet ceiling.
My brain is The Sun and Shakespeare is my page 3.
*This statement is subject to being in the 1960s. You would not believe how difficult it is to find a picture of Mick Jagger where he doesn't look off his face on drugs. I've settled for one where he looks like a tool.
Bear with me.
No, seriously, there's a bear with me... it's mauling my face... oh christ... no, not really, I'm just kidding. My theory is that Shakespeare was the Mick Jagger of his time. He was young (for 30 years or so), rich and famous. Oh, and he was a slag.
Christopher Marlowe, on the other hand, was Jeff Buckley. He arguably and comparably had more talent, but died too young to get very much done. Shakespeare was all crotch-thrusting and no Faustus.
This is, of course, my idea that I thought of at 2:53 in the morning. I'm not as yet sure whether it was more of a thought, or an excuse to look at Jagger's effing disgustingly beautiful face*. Having written about 3000 words of my nanowrimo, my brain feels like it's filled with scrunched up bits of newspaper, except there are no words on this newspaper - there's no words whatsoever in my brain anymore. They've all been typed out and are now a nonsensical pulp on a secondary school toilet ceiling.
My brain is The Sun and Shakespeare is my page 3.
*This statement is subject to being in the 1960s. You would not believe how difficult it is to find a picture of Mick Jagger where he doesn't look off his face on drugs. I've settled for one where he looks like a tool.
Peace & Love
Twinkle, twinkle, Ringo Starr,
My obsession is bizarre.
In the 60’s you were spry,
Now you’re some old Liverpudlian guy.
Wrinkle, wrinkle, Ringo Starr,
The YouTube vid was a step too far.
That's a bit of a lie, I still love you Ringo, but only in the context of the 60s and 70s... and maybe a bit of the 80s, but not when you looked like Wolverine, that was just gross.
My obsession is bizarre.
In the 60’s you were spry,
Now you’re some old Liverpudlian guy.
Wrinkle, wrinkle, Ringo Starr,
The YouTube vid was a step too far.
That's a bit of a lie, I still love you Ringo, but only in the context of the 60s and 70s... and maybe a bit of the 80s, but not when you looked like Wolverine, that was just gross.
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Friday, 13 November 2009
How Eloquent
"Woody Allen, I think, proved that a genius with a hard-on is still just a guy with a hard-on."
--Bill Maher
--Bill Maher
De La Kill
God I love a Jimmy Stewart fan. Well, two now.
"Thou shalt choose a political party based on their policies, as opposed to just going with who your family's always supported. They are not a football team."
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Hamlet
Here is a preview of the television version of Hamlet that the RSC's doing for Christmas this year. It's got David Tennant in it, and Patrick Stewart, so you know it'll be good. It looks awesome, beautiful set, too.
Nice to see the young folks taking an interest in Shakespeare nowadays, even if it does take David Tennant's lovely face!
Nice to see the young folks taking an interest in Shakespeare nowadays, even if it does take David Tennant's lovely face!
Remembrance Day
I couldn't find any more appropriate songs, so this will have to do.
Don't judge me - I bought a poppy!
Monday, 9 November 2009
Flare
I'm sorry for the lapse in bloggage. I was in the 70s with Paul McCartney and his beard (no, not Linda), but it turned out that wide-leg jeans don't suit me, so I came back.
On Facebook there's this thing, it's called Compare People, and it's basically a massive kick in the proverbial balls, particularly if you're a loser. You get ranked on traits in comparison to your other friends, here is what I have...
#2 most reliable
#3 most punctual
#4 most generous
#4 merriest
#4 most likely to succeed
#5 most organized
#5 most useful
#6 toughest
#8 best dinner companion
#8 most studious
So basically, I'm very likely to turn up on time, bring a present, and be darn happy about it. Quite true. I do like presents. I don't know what that succeeding crap is about, because we all know I'm destined to be a cat lady without any cats.
It's understandable that my second to lowest trait is 'Can drink more' I drank an evian bottle of gin the other night and called a policeman a paedophile.
The lowest? 'Craziest'.
On Facebook there's this thing, it's called Compare People, and it's basically a massive kick in the proverbial balls, particularly if you're a loser. You get ranked on traits in comparison to your other friends, here is what I have...
#2 most reliable
#3 most punctual
#4 most generous
#4 merriest
#4 most likely to succeed
#5 most organized
#5 most useful
#6 toughest
#8 best dinner companion
#8 most studious
So basically, I'm very likely to turn up on time, bring a present, and be darn happy about it. Quite true. I do like presents. I don't know what that succeeding crap is about, because we all know I'm destined to be a cat lady without any cats.
It's understandable that my second to lowest trait is 'Can drink more' I drank an evian bottle of gin the other night and called a policeman a paedophile.
The lowest? 'Craziest'.
Chilly
I am currently wearing:
- Wool tights
- Knee-high socks
- Slippers
- A vest
- Trews
- A t-shirt
- A jumper
- A hoody
- 2 blankets
- A hot water bottle shoved down my jumper
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Top 5 Songs I Want You To Listen To
Right Now.
5. Elephant Gun - Beirut
4. I'm A Cuckoo - Belle & Sebastian
3. Michael - Franz Ferdinand
2. Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies
1. Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - The Velvet Underground
5. Elephant Gun - Beirut
4. I'm A Cuckoo - Belle & Sebastian
3. Michael - Franz Ferdinand
2. Here Comes Your Man - The Pixies
1. Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - The Velvet Underground
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Faceless
Walking home today, it started to rain. I put up my hood, and carried on walking. At some point it stopped raining, but I didn't notice and kept my hood up until I got home.
When I was walking down my street, the more people I passed, the more I noticed something. They kept trying to look at my face. I swear. I don't know... maybe it was just me thinking they were, but I don't usual notice people actively peering to see my face.
I think the fact that it was obscured in my hood meant that people were curious. What was I hiding? Am I disfigured? Am I a troll? Am I a cat who has grown a human body and stolen a coat in an attempt to integrate herself into human society, if only she can keep her face concealed for long enough - oh, please don't find out my secret!
This really, really annoyed me for some reason. In fact, it made me want to hide my face more. Why are you trying to looking at my face? What right do you have to look at my face? Fuck all, that's what.
Is it so you can judge me by what I look like? When I'm wearing relatively non-gender specific clothes and a hood I'm relatively anonymous, class-less, identity-less... do you need to make an assessment? I tell you what you need to do, you need to mind your own godamn business.
Next time, I'm wearing a burkha.
When I was walking down my street, the more people I passed, the more I noticed something. They kept trying to look at my face. I swear. I don't know... maybe it was just me thinking they were, but I don't usual notice people actively peering to see my face.
I think the fact that it was obscured in my hood meant that people were curious. What was I hiding? Am I disfigured? Am I a troll? Am I a cat who has grown a human body and stolen a coat in an attempt to integrate herself into human society, if only she can keep her face concealed for long enough - oh, please don't find out my secret!
This really, really annoyed me for some reason. In fact, it made me want to hide my face more. Why are you trying to looking at my face? What right do you have to look at my face? Fuck all, that's what.
Is it so you can judge me by what I look like? When I'm wearing relatively non-gender specific clothes and a hood I'm relatively anonymous, class-less, identity-less... do you need to make an assessment? I tell you what you need to do, you need to mind your own godamn business.
Next time, I'm wearing a burkha.
Monday, 2 November 2009
Taxidermy
This is a bit of my large piece of writing which I am currently embarking on. I shan't call it a novel because firstly, even if it did make sense and have characters and a plot - 50,000 words is not enough to be a novel anyway, it's a novella. The second reason being that I don't want the stress of having impending novelistship on my brain. I just write shite, and I'm happy with that for now. Here is how I decided to begin my writing:
You know that joke about a woman who dreams that she’s eating a marshmallow and when she wakes up she’s eaten half her pillow? I believe that this is the third-easiest way to become a piece of human taxidermy. The second-easiest is to work in a pub. Bear with me. Don’t bare with me, we don’t know each other well enough yet...
In terms of stuffing, over time your body is filled with bitter wadding; your head in particular crammed with knowledge, intuition and a general distain for the drinking (cl)asses. Skin becomes pickled through regular dousings of alcohol; pints spilled, drinks thrown, and Pepsi-gun fights. Congratulations, you might as well be a squirrel on a toff’s mantelpiece.
You know that joke about a woman who dreams that she’s eating a marshmallow and when she wakes up she’s eaten half her pillow? I believe that this is the third-easiest way to become a piece of human taxidermy. The second-easiest is to work in a pub. Bear with me. Don’t bare with me, we don’t know each other well enough yet...
In terms of stuffing, over time your body is filled with bitter wadding; your head in particular crammed with knowledge, intuition and a general distain for the drinking (cl)asses. Skin becomes pickled through regular dousings of alcohol; pints spilled, drinks thrown, and Pepsi-gun fights. Congratulations, you might as well be a squirrel on a toff’s mantelpiece.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
NaNoWriMo
Much like Cissy M, I've decided to have a go at NaNoWriMo this year. Basically it involves writing your arse off, to what will certainly be an awful result.. but a result none the less.
I have no plan except for the words my brain produces when I put tea into it and tap my hands on this board of keys. I'm already behind, and I've got an essay to write for Monday.
I'm not particularly optimistic about the whole thing, but the point is, I'm having a go... and why not? Wish me luck!
I have no plan except for the words my brain produces when I put tea into it and tap my hands on this board of keys. I'm already behind, and I've got an essay to write for Monday.
I'm not particularly optimistic about the whole thing, but the point is, I'm having a go... and why not? Wish me luck!
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