A Super8 Zombie Claymation (by leehardcastle)
6.11.12
So haven’t posted anything for a while…
What’s happened lately? Well, I’m a lot calmer and less anxious now, thanks to coming to terms with a fear of mine. So I should be organising Constantinople pretty soonish!
I’ve written half of Deaf and Dumb and Drum and Bass now, and am rather proud of it. I’ve got a possibly slightly blasphemous section in there about some angels, which isn’t part of the story but is rather a comment on what is going on… Don’t really know how that’s going to work itself in/what will be the reaction to it in class…
Performed at Giraffe last night for about ten minutes. That went pretty groovy, despite the small audience; those that heard it seemed to enjoy it a lot, especially, surprisingly, The Dead Poets are Dreaming. Lady Nade were there and they were awesome, as well as Daniel from the hostel, who was great. Maybe I’ll have to start writing some more ‘arty’ stuff…
Oh, and I got a free burger, chips and a beer, and they said I can come back next week! Did most of my material last week though…
Tawno’s now done two pages of The Sellouts and they look brilliant. It’s really great seeing my writing translating into such wonderful artwork!
Anyway, see you later, alligator(s).
The Girl on the Escalator - Charles Bukowski
as I go to the escalator
a young fellow and a lovely young girl
are ahead of me.
her pants, her blouse are skin-tight.
as we ascend, she rests one foot
on the step above and her behind
assumes a fascinatin shape.
the young man looks all around he appears worried,
he looks at me.
I look away.
no, young man, I am not looking,
I am not looking at your girl’s behind.
dont worry, I respect her and I respect you.
in fact, I respect everything; the flowers that grow, young women,
children, all the animals, our precious complicated universe, everyone and everything.
I sense that the young man now feels better and I am glad for him.
I know his problem: the girl has a mother, a father, maybe a sister or a brother,
and undoubtedly a bunch of unfriendly relatives
and she like to dance and flirt and she likes to go to the movies and sometimes
she talks and chews at the same time and
she enjoys really dumb TV shows and she thinks she’s a budding actress and she
doesn’t always look so good and has a
terrible temper and sometimes she almost goes crazy
and she can talk for hours on the telephone and she wants to go to Europe some summer soon
and she wants you to buy her a near-new Mercedes and she’s in love with
Mel Gibson and her mother is a
drunk and her father is a racist
and sometimes when she drinks too much she
snores and she’s often cold in bed and
she has a guru, a guy who met Christ
in the desert in 1978, and she wants to be a dancer and she’s unemployed and she
gets migraine headaches everytime she
eats sugar or cheese.
I watch him take her up
the escalator, his arm
protectively about her waist, thinking he’s
lucky,
thinking he’s a real special guy,
thinking that nobody in the world has
what he has.
and he’s right, terribly
terribly right, his arm around
that warm bucket of
intestine,
bladder,
kidneys,
lungs,
salt,
sulphur,
carbon dioxide
and
phlegm.
lotsa
luck
are ahead of me.
her pants, her blouse are skin-tight.
as we ascend, she rests one foot
on the step above and her behind
assumes a fascinatin shape.
the young man looks all around he appears worried,
he looks at me.
I look away.
no, young man, I am not looking,
I am not looking at your girl’s behind.
dont worry, I respect her and I respect you.
in fact, I respect everything; the flowers that grow, young women,
children, all the animals, our precious complicated universe, everyone and everything.
I sense that the young man now feels better and I am glad for him.
I know his problem: the girl has a mother, a father, maybe a sister or a brother,
and undoubtedly a bunch of unfriendly relatives
and she like to dance and flirt and she likes to go to the movies and sometimes
she talks and chews at the same time and
she enjoys really dumb TV shows and she thinks she’s a budding actress and she
doesn’t always look so good and has a
terrible temper and sometimes she almost goes crazy
and she can talk for hours on the telephone and she wants to go to Europe some summer soon
and she wants you to buy her a near-new Mercedes and she’s in love with
Mel Gibson and her mother is a
drunk and her father is a racist
and sometimes when she drinks too much she
snores and she’s often cold in bed and
she has a guru, a guy who met Christ
in the desert in 1978, and she wants to be a dancer and she’s unemployed and she
gets migraine headaches everytime she
eats sugar or cheese.
I watch him take her up
the escalator, his arm
protectively about her waist, thinking he’s
lucky,
thinking he’s a real special guy,
thinking that nobody in the world has
what he has.
and he’s right, terribly
terribly right, his arm around
that warm bucket of
intestine,
bladder,
kidneys,
lungs,
salt,
sulphur,
carbon dioxide
and
phlegm.
lotsa
luck
21.11.11
Sorry haven’t written in a bit.
Who am I apologising to?? Myself I guess…
Have been planning out Deaf and Dumb and Drum and Bass. Got some good ideas, could be really good. Don’t really want to talk about it too much in case I lose inspiration. Basically (for those of you who are interested - is that ANYONE??) it’s about a girl who doesn’t speak, a deaf old man who doesn’t stop, and a boy who just listens to Drum and Bass all day long and rarely interacts with them. It’s set in a big warehouse where the three of them are constantly mopping as part of a government scheme in the future to reduce violence through work - even if that work’s monotonous and pointless.
See you laters x
17.11.11
Had the ten ‘til twelve shift last night, which was knackering, and then had the seven until ten shift this morning! Pretty exhausting!
Haven’t seen ‘the guys’ much this week at all which is a shame. I’ll try and see more of them this week. I have exchanged shifts with Tom so that I’m working tomorrow but not on Saturday and therefore can go and see John Hegley and Anna Freeman that night, and then maybe go to Zelah’s party afterwards.
This evening I watched A Hard Days Night with Maria which was cool. Haven’t seen it in ages!
Had Writing For Theatre today. Not sure if The Corgehjay is a good idea. Have started on a piece called Deaf, Dumb and Drum and Bass. Could be cool.
Tomorrow I’m meeting Ffion to discuss the piece of experimental theatre we’re doing in drama. Should be good fun!
Good night! x
16.11.11
Sitting in Tawno’s room with him and Zelah as he tries to make a template thingy for a Bokeh effect on the camera. This will make all lights turn into the shape cut into the template. Pretty awesome, huh? I’m gonna takes some more of my stuff back to the hostel in a second. Got an eight thirty until midnight shift tonight… Sigh… Pretty sucky… I’ve also got a seven until ten shift tomorrow morning. Really not fair at all… I’ve got to get out of there.
I’ve only been there a few days though. Maybe give it two weeks just so I don’t seem like a pussy (Is that sexist language?)? My excuse is that I can’t work there (on my own, ACTUAL work). That’s fair, isn’t it? Because I can’t. It’s impossible. Nowhere to stick my laptop down. No peace and quiet. And NO SOLITUDE. I just want to be on my own some time. I mean, even here, we’re all quiet, but that’s not because we’ve got nothing to say to each other. We’re just comfortable in each other’s company and have other stuff we’re doing. It’s groovy. Not lonely, but comfy and working. Pretty cool.
Did some avant-garde stuff in drama today. Directing a group with Ffion, which is great - she’s a bit of a genius to put it lightly. But a social genius, not a nut. Also did the presentation on Jerzy Grotowski. Had to learn his history real quick and then recite it on the bridge by the lake wearing the beard and some fake glasses. Pretty fun. Ziggy got a woman who was practicing squeezebox in the Acropolis to play a Polish-esq tune for us as we walked in, which sounded lovely and not even us in the group knew what was happening.
Got to do a bit more of The Cor-ge-jay tonight or tomorrow before the Writing for Theatre seminar…
Laters, alligators…
Glaucus atlanticus (blue sea slug)
These little guys are pretty awesome. They live in temperate and tropical waters, staying afloat by swallowing air and keeping it in their stomachs. They eat the venomous Portuguese Man o’ War jellyfish and keep its stings for their own defence. And they look like cycloptic alien dragons. What’s not to love?
(Photos and info from Wikipedia, the Natural History Museum and Animals Talking in All Caps.)
This is AMAZING. These things exist and they are AMAZING.
EPIC SLUG FISH aquatic… thing…
15.11.11
Not a great deal to say today. Read out my poems for performance poetry and they went down very well. There’s a poetry night with Anna Freeman and - wait for it - John Hegley this Saturday! I’m gonna have to see if Tom would be willing to swap shifts with me so that I can go… Went to see a guy talk about the history of philosophy at Toppings with Tawno and Zelah tonight. That was relatively fun. Then we went to the Hob. I tried some ‘Fire Dancer’ cider which was quite nice, but not as nice as Bee Sting. We had a good chat about school and stuff.
I want to punch Ricky Gervais. I’m trying to do my drama work (yes, should have done it earlier) and that nob is on the television. The common room of the hostel is the only place where I can sit at a table and do this. Goodnight.
