A few things I found when I found that steampunk vid,
the chick from Dresden Dolls is coooooool. Kate Bush influenced more then her copy caTory Amos.
Here are my reasons for liking this...
I'm obsessed with Victoriana. Have lived in Victorian houses, read Victorian literature at great length with highly frenetic page turning, and this has become a little secret pleasure I can't tell anyone else about because they JUST WOULDN'T GET IT LIKE YOU WILL!!
The first would make Bowie and Numan look up at them,
The second because wild eyed theatrical female singers are the stuff of my deepest most pleasant psychotic dreams.
The last one is purely for novelty, I thought it was funny.
I feel so much better today.
I slept, I'm able to eat, I have been out and engaged the public.
I remembered everything in just two trips to the shops.
Everybody in the neighbourhood laughs and says, "what'd you forget now, charlie?" I've been scatty all week. And it's been turned into a public source of amusement because I'm always so hyper-efficient and on top of stuff. It's easy to get things right when one isn't preoccupied and distracted by excruciating agony. I can't get past the tip of my nose, I become totally self-absorbed and it's all I think about.
Someone just mentioned something I was just thinking about all day and was coming in to mention.
I had to agree publicly!
Life is just what you make of it.
I would've been way more verbose, would've run all round the houses, told four different stories, THEN announced something as succinctly perfect as she did. Eventually, anyway.
I was seriously retracted. Far into the recesses of my own thoughts.
When it broke, it just spilled out. However, I only stream of consciousness write anyway. Here. I write lots of other stuff on my
infinite paper wasting scheme. I go back to the analogue version of writing and grab a pen and leather bound book for most things.
My writing here is not at all contrived. I rarely know what I mean to say when I get here, I just need to write.
Result of being directed to read Joyce at a young age after a teacher thought my creative writing was Joycian and I hadn't ventured into Ulysses at that point. I was reading Anthony Burgess, listening to a lot of Baroque music, and it must've all had a really jerky dichotomy. I was flattered. That teacher was so important in my life, she was my friend. She would give me her personal journal, where she would write things about me, and I gave her mine, where, of course, she appeared in print. When she left to teach at Uni level, I quoted Morrissey on her, for the Millionth time, I hit her with, "she could've been a poet or she could've been a fool".
I was angry. We dressed alike, had the same musical taste, she always played music for me while I was writing, she knew that's how I write anyway. If I ever had a soulmate, she was it.
She was four times my age, but we were peers in some bizarre way.
I felt like she was just leaving me, never mind she had other students she no doubt connected with and loved, she was mine. And leaving was not acceptable. I had two more years left there, and I was gonna do that HOW EXACTLY, without her?!?!
She didn't cope as well with being the freak in the company of her co-workers. Everybody else was bog standard. They didn't relate to someone with a brain, a creative mind, an inner life.
Avoiding ordinary teachers.
Not easily done at that school.
I'm off. This is all I can do, I'm actually getting sleepy, I need to go with it, or I might revive and not get to sleep.
the chick from Dresden Dolls is coooooool. Kate Bush influenced more then her copy caTory Amos.
Here are my reasons for liking this...
I'm obsessed with Victoriana. Have lived in Victorian houses, read Victorian literature at great length with highly frenetic page turning, and this has become a little secret pleasure I can't tell anyone else about because they JUST WOULDN'T GET IT LIKE YOU WILL!!
The first would make Bowie and Numan look up at them,
The second because wild eyed theatrical female singers are the stuff of my deepest most pleasant psychotic dreams.
The last one is purely for novelty, I thought it was funny.
I feel so much better today.
I slept, I'm able to eat, I have been out and engaged the public.
I remembered everything in just two trips to the shops.
Everybody in the neighbourhood laughs and says, "what'd you forget now, charlie?" I've been scatty all week. And it's been turned into a public source of amusement because I'm always so hyper-efficient and on top of stuff. It's easy to get things right when one isn't preoccupied and distracted by excruciating agony. I can't get past the tip of my nose, I become totally self-absorbed and it's all I think about.
Someone just mentioned something I was just thinking about all day and was coming in to mention.
I had to agree publicly!
Life is just what you make of it.
I would've been way more verbose, would've run all round the houses, told four different stories, THEN announced something as succinctly perfect as she did. Eventually, anyway.
I was seriously retracted. Far into the recesses of my own thoughts.
When it broke, it just spilled out. However, I only stream of consciousness write anyway. Here. I write lots of other stuff on my
infinite paper wasting scheme. I go back to the analogue version of writing and grab a pen and leather bound book for most things.
My writing here is not at all contrived. I rarely know what I mean to say when I get here, I just need to write.
Result of being directed to read Joyce at a young age after a teacher thought my creative writing was Joycian and I hadn't ventured into Ulysses at that point. I was reading Anthony Burgess, listening to a lot of Baroque music, and it must've all had a really jerky dichotomy. I was flattered. That teacher was so important in my life, she was my friend. She would give me her personal journal, where she would write things about me, and I gave her mine, where, of course, she appeared in print. When she left to teach at Uni level, I quoted Morrissey on her, for the Millionth time, I hit her with, "she could've been a poet or she could've been a fool".
I was angry. We dressed alike, had the same musical taste, she always played music for me while I was writing, she knew that's how I write anyway. If I ever had a soulmate, she was it.
She was four times my age, but we were peers in some bizarre way.
I felt like she was just leaving me, never mind she had other students she no doubt connected with and loved, she was mine. And leaving was not acceptable. I had two more years left there, and I was gonna do that HOW EXACTLY, without her?!?!
She didn't cope as well with being the freak in the company of her co-workers. Everybody else was bog standard. They didn't relate to someone with a brain, a creative mind, an inner life.
Avoiding ordinary teachers.
Not easily done at that school.
I'm off. This is all I can do, I'm actually getting sleepy, I need to go with it, or I might revive and not get to sleep.
