All entries for Friday 18 February 2005
February 18, 2005
C…can i finish?
CAN I FINISH?
can i finish, please!
is it some kind of cruel joke that i'm sitting in the resources room and unintentionally overhearing the smiths wail the following words..
"I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does"
is this a joke?? IS IT? right, i'm going to stop now. too many lyrics for one day.
Well, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat
Well, you must tell me, baby
How your head feels under somethin' like that
Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat.
well kids, DO NOT FORGET to come and watch this…
Rejection. Humiliation. Masturbation.
In Freshblood's controversial new black comedy Real Men Don't Use Porn, three characters enact a confused and cruel love triangle. Power games abound as a children's entertainer in clown make-up, his ex-girlfriend and an arrogant macho bastard try to work out just what sex, relationships and even love actually mean. Written by Chris Carter and directed by Eimear Ballard (the team behind this year's Panto), the performances are on Monday 21st and Tuesday 22nd February (Week 8) at 1pm in The Cooler.
Warning: This play contains scenes of an explicit sexual nature and should not be seen by anyone with their head stuck in the 1940s.
(nb. There will be a Warwick Anti-Sexism Society Q&A session with Carter and myself after the first performance on Monday for anyone who's interested).
Don't miss this one…
Writing about an entry you don't have permission to viewwell, the wallpaper of the computer at which i'm sitting right now is informing me that reverend tom and the indiscretions will be performing next tuesday…so, surely that means that the return of mr steward is imminent?
There aren't any!
coming from ireland, it's about time i gave voice to some ire.
Come on!! GET ON WITH IT!!!
"It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife…and isn't it ironic?" once quoth whiney addict-face alanis morissette. well, how about flailing your arms about in the middle of a self-perpetuating circle of ridiculousness created by your own loserishness? that's pretty ironic. or how about doing exactly what you said you'd never do (again)? also ironic. meh. is it really true that the christian union is hosting a talk entitled 'what would god say to david blunkett?' either i am losing my mind, or the world is becoming increasingly bizarre. anyway, uncharacteristically, because i'm feeling a bit like a sponge soaked in angst, i'm going to hand over to hefner..
"No one called, no one wrote, no one phoned,
So no one knew that I was with her on my own.
She smoked in my bed cause she thought it would annoy me,
But I love to watch a girl smoke in my bed..
Lucky Strikes remind me of my friends out on the west coast,
Camel Lights remind me of my ex-girlfriend at Christmas time,
Marlboro Reds remind me of giving up in Berlin,
B&H remind me of not giving up but giving in…
How can she love me when she doesn't even love the cinema that I love?
What does she feel if she doesn't have the feeling that I have in my fingers?
This joy I have could lift this ceiling from its rafters but I'm not laughing.
We feel nothing, so we search for nothing, so we achieve nothing, love."
never a truer word spoken, mister hefner!