| They are going out to bars and they are getting into cars. |
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| Dear friends... |
[October 07, 2007 @ 4:36pm] |
Yesterday evening we went to see Lightspeed Champion, Ross Clark and so on. I accompanied true music fans on a whim, thinking of socialising for the sake of socialising. I found a James and a Tony in the street and I put them in my pocket, saving them for later. I drank gin and tonics and wore old clothes and crumpled t shirts and thought that I had in fact become an old woman. Myself and Morrisey have a growing spiritual connection. I'll develop a quiff.
I had a nice time but I am not so social these days. I would not go dancing or go to parties. I observed Sauchiehall Street as we skipped over vomit. People are a strange drunk breed falling into broken glass in the middle of roads. Soon I will go dancing with them and wear eyeliner and ear rings and kiss boys but not yesterday evening. I went home and slept, but in the middle of the night became ill and sat up watching music channels and then shopping channels and then blank screens promising the return of the shopping channels at 6am.
I am going to try and be social as of next weekend, I think now I am less stressed about university I have left myself time to be bitter and overly thoughtful about things, leading to reclusive tendencies.
I am not clever and I think that since starting Art School I have shown myself to be an idiot to each one of my tutors. I have concluded that it would be better not to speak for a while but in a week I have to make a presentation about a painting in its gallery space... I will have to say things...I think I am too young to go to art school really. I should have gone and done something first. Climbed a big rock perhaps. but now I am there I will just have to try and keep quiet to hide my immaturity and grow up faster. Just as soon as i manage to finish the last harry potter book.
I am a waffling oaf.
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[September 26, 2007 @ 9:51pm] |
Today, I think, was the first sunny, wintry day. I go to art school every day now and so far I have not drawn anything but I have gone to a lecture entitled "Reading Objects in Art," which was very enjoyable and talked about a French man called Barthes, who seemed to be the kind of guy who knew what it was all about, you know, "it"...
Tomorrow I will go to my first studio day where we will do a phenomenological drawing project. In case you are wondering what that is I will tell you. So far as I can tell, a phenomenological drawing project is a big pile of pish that I will be forced to do for five months before being allowed to do anything of any consequence. The end. During these five weeks I will collaborate with a group to produce a sculpture! This combines my two most hated things; people and sculpting. I will get back to you on this though, I go in with an open mind (sort of) I'm just predisposed to dislike people who use unnecessarily long words. So far as I can tell, phenomenology is "the study of "phenomena": the appearances of things, or things as they appear in our experience," to you, does that sound a little like, well, looking at things.... and thinking about the things we are looking at..... but I am told that I will be forced to stand on one leg.
If you are reading this and you are a philosophy student, please could you explain phenomenology to me? As I'm really really hoping I'm just a bit dense and this is not actually what phenomenology is..
I'm trying to think of more things to say about art school. Art school seems to be a place where people who actually have a very clear idea of what they want to paint/draw/photograph/sculpt hide for a few years pretending to learn things about phenomenology until they look old enough to know what they were talking about and go out and try to paint/draw/photograph/sculpt what they wanted to four years ago.
But thats just what I'm taking from it because I'm overly opinionated and snotty. I haven't drawn anything yet, and I'm not very good at standing on one leg, what shall I do?!
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| Writer's Block: The Nose Knows |
[September 16, 2007 @ 11:07pm] |
Incidentally today I have been thinking about my favorite smells! What a wonderful coincidence. My current favorite smell is the smell of fresh faxes when they are fresh and warm out of the fax machine. I cannot describe this smell except for that it is both exciting and comforting at the same time. "Something new and exciting to read!" this smell says to me. The excitement in this smell is also partly to due with the fact that for a long time I was confused by the difference between a fax machine and a teleportation device. The fax machine is subtly, but importantly, different from a teleportation device. I also think part of the reason I like this smell so much is that it reminds me of the office at my primary school. I liked the office in my primary school as it was not the classroom. The classroom was awful. I also think it may be because fax machine smell is like that book and stationary smell, but magnified by a million. I do like books and stationary.
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| Woe is me! |
[September 08, 2007 @ 12:43pm] |
This weekend has got off to a bad start. Everyones best friend, Susan Carol Shields, has left for Edinburgh. Now we will not have nearly as much fun and we will never walk to Mugdock park. I am certain that if she wasn't moving away I wouldn't be sitting in my pants and vest at quarter to one in the afternoon drinking coffee whilst still wearing last night's makeup (despite the fact that if Susie hadn't been in Edinburgh she would be working right now, and not able to force me to get dressed and do something both useful and fun)
The only thing I can think of to do is go to the west end, but then of course, I'd have to wear a stupid scarf, pointedly read a novel, not have any fun, and not talk enthusiastically, in a friendly manner, to anyone, for fear of getting Oonagh into trouble. I thought I could go to Kelvingrove and look at some dead animals in boxes, but then I realised there would be alot of young children running around getting that wierd goo that young children produce all over everything, and every other museum is too much effort to get to, except for GOMA, which is in fact a fake museum for people to lazy to get the train to real life museums. People like me.
This evening I am supposed to get the train to Lintlithgow to meet my dad. However I have already decided I am not going as this morning I was woken by:
"Lauren you're a hungover mess. Tidy your room. There is paint downstairs everywhere and you've not painted anything and I got red paint all over me. I'm very annoyed at you. Come to Linlithgow"
I would like to point out that this morning was a RARE Saturday morning where I am NOT hung over. I simply wish to crawl under a rock and die rather than wear an unnecessary scarf and go outside (by the way, I'm sorry if you wear alot of scarves, the scarf thing is actually a defense mechanisim I use after losing my most precious and beautiful Spanish scarf, nothing will ever replace it, it clashed with absolutely everything I owned, I wore it with everything, a tear comes to my eye just thinking about it. Maybe you could post me a similar scarf? It was that ugly mustard colour, with shiny bits and green bits. please post to 21 Douglas Muir Drive, Milngavie)
Also. I know that actually I prefer my room tidy, and actually the carpet does look like its having rabbit children. But I am very tired.
So YES look at how terrible my life has become! I am a shadow of my former self! And nothing will console me!
Woe is me!
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| "Hey, these guys sound pretty good, they have, like, a guitar?" |
[September 04, 2007 @ 1:06pm] |
Our tent started so well, and ended so terribly.
The go team were fun and Jarvis Cocker was very much himself and the Beastie Boys were bizarre as we were so dehydrated we could see things out the sides of our eyes. Pear cider is better and more delicious than apple cider and I will never drink either again. Simon and Garfunkel followed us even to Inverary. People got robbed but we didnt because our tent was so full of rubbish, although at first we thought maybe a robber had shat in our tent ("he came into our tent, he couldn't find any money and he took a MASSIVE SHITE!" "yes!")
Mogwai were quite beautiful in drizzle, they had the best light display. Susie missed Primal Scream because she fell asleep/passed out. I think now I will bother to listen to Rilo Kiley once in a while because they were real proper class, and that is the best way to describe it. but I wasn't impressed with Bat for Lashes. We ate noodles. I ate more noodles than anyone else. Although I didn't eat anything else. I remember having drunk too much wine and running across the guitars stage and back and then falling over without anyone noticing. It was the general consensus that we had not brought enough drugs, but on the plus I actually remember who we went to say and no one acted like a cunt. Preliminarily I think Regina Spektor may have been my favourite although I know that Hot Chip probably were better in reality but I couldn't stop thinking, when looking at the two girls in front of me, "going mad crazy on drum and bass yaaah?" and we missed Idlewild but got glowsticks. MIA shouldn't have let 200 people on stage. By Saturday Oonagh had become her jazz-soul alter ego and sounded wonderfully odd. We met another Boab. He was like Boab in every way except he wasn't actually Boab and his hair was brown. We played clapping game, which I think I had forgotten one of the rules to. I quite enjoyed being a bit dirty if I'm honest but I dread to think what I looked like on Sunday in the outfit I made up of "everything that is not already soaking wet". On saturday night I went out without my mac on. Eilidh was a ned from the 80s. She said "av it" and I disliked it but it was quite comical. My reflection was quite a shock on Monday El padre were a good wee band that have absolutely no music recorded which is most inconvenient. Twilight Sad were brilliantly invented. I think they were probably invented. Walking was impossible, you dragged your legs behind you and they made a great sssssscccccchhhhhhhhllllllloop sound. (don't you find this new spellchecker that you can't turn off quite irritating?) A red bull cocktail cured my hangover both times. Do you have the constipation blues? No weekend before has ever made me more aware of the single, unavoidable fact: eeeeeeeverybody poops, but some people's poo is worse than others (sorry James, not that your poo is bad, just that you dislike the word poo, I'm sorry for refering to poo in this parenthesis, but I've gone to far now, its unavoidable, poooooooo) but it is okay, because we are men, the men are men, the women are men, the children are men, but most importantly, we are men. ARE YA GONNA LOVE ME LAAAAAAAATEEEER? Do you dance like your siblings? I think dancing is in your genes. I liked our lovely new friend Alastair, but I have such a feeling we will never see him again. Tilly and the Wall are witchcraft not to be messed with, they made the sun come out. The sun was a shock to my system. I would like to go to war with men who mock girls who pee freely, seriously, fuck you, we know its disgusting, but being honest, it's pretty disgusting watching you pee as well, and don't think we don't know that its you boys doing the fucking stinkers in the portaloos. So shut the fuck up, I would beat you in a fight, I'm spritely. Me, Adam and Tomas had the best burger in the whole world, Adam went to pee and I stood there holding a burger in each hand with luminous pink beetroot juice running down each arm shouting help and a middle aged couple told me I was adorable, but were no help at all. My hat broke and I had to buy a new one. Have you ever wondered why everyone at festivals wears those wierd wool hats with earflaps? Well BUY one and try it next time your there... You will never be cold! You will positively be warm like no jumper could make you warm, they are the key to happiness in the pouring rain. I love babybells, and in fact, all cheese. We were the duracell bunnies, up at seven every morning, singing songs and shouting at the tops of our voices, but hey, at least we were happy-positive. The only person I met who I knew was my Auntie. I now feel kind of oddly alone and keep expecting Adam or Tomas or Oonagh ( the others were too drunk to be concerned by this) to come round the corner and tell me to hurry up and stop getting lost. I liked the ale there. I rolled an awful joint but everyone else was too drunk to really appreciate the awfulness of this. I punched a man in Primal Scream. I was perpetually followed around by a giant with a beard who would stand deathly still in front of me not dancing. To clean the tent we held it upside down and let everything that we couldn't remember who it belonged to fall out. I was devistated to find two babybells uneaten and ruined. A woman gave us a carton of Cranberry Juice and I am eternally grateful. I miss my wellies. I ate a fish supper for breakfast in Inverary village. I only realised how much we truly stank when we got in the car. I can't wait for the photos..
Did I miss anything?
The end.
Same time next year?
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| Connect 2007 |
[August 25, 2007 @ 12:52pm] |
I cannot wait for us all to live in our mansion tent like dirty good for nothings and sing all day to wonderful melodies and drink cider and dance.
I'm off to buy a macinasack!
Doesn't that sound vulgar?
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| Two flights of stairs. |
[August 17, 2007 @ 11:55pm] |
I work in an office. It is not unpleasant, neither is it particularly stimulating.
After popping out of the office to buy a sandwich for my lunch today I caught myself thinking;
"I hope when I get back something is on fire, that would break up the afternoon a bit."
Tomorrow evening we plan to go dancing, I will have to wear a dress and accessories I expect. I wish to go dancing but I am woeful at the prospect of this, particularly at the thought of earrings.
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[August 16, 2007 @ 6:59pm] |
 Do you ever go to places like B&Q and think that you might have stumbled into a parallel universe of robots and space and time? |
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| I never knew you wrote such bloody awful poetry.. |
[August 15, 2007 @ 7:12pm] |
This evening on my bus ride home from work I observed that there were two young ladies -aged about fourteen or so- wearing identically cut brightly coloured track suits (one in blue, one in green) and the same multicoloured stripey tshirt. At first I found this mortifying as I thought of them going to a shop and picking out a monochromatic track suit as their collective outfit of choice. At a second thought I considered that this might be a new fashion that I was unaware of which amused me as I would be mortified at wearing the same outfit as one of my friends when aged fourteen, it also made me vaugely sad that I no longer was in tune with fashions such as these and goo aliens that hatched babies out of them.
At a third thought I considered they may be in some sort of a girl gang. Not the nice girl gang that would solve mysteries in a Bunty magazine. The sort that would unexpectedly beat an old person to death.
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| Natural habitat. |
[August 12, 2007 @ 10:19pm] |
It's been a while.
The photos on my wall.
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[April 11, 2007 @ 1:30pm] |
Creeps me out about the world. Because the kid isn't doing anything wrong, but you're like "oh god. stop it. some pedo will come get you," And thats just not right.
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[April 06, 2007 @ 4:19pm] |
POST CAME!!
Mon the me.
On the downside, I cannot get through to the admissions office to actually schedual the interview due to the fact it is Easter and it is closed. I blame Jesus. His death is most inconvenient to me. Now I am worried that by the time I do get through there will be no more room for my interview and then what will I do?! But I think this might be a sort of illogical worry, and it probably denotes what I really need is a sedative.
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[April 03, 2007 @ 12:59pm] |
Knock Knock!
Who could be there?!?!?
It's big big finger!
...And he's gone septic!
(I'm off to the nurse's office..)
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| Rubbish |
[April 03, 2007 @ 11:04am] |
There's still no post.
Life is rubbish.
I have nothing to do but think about how there's no post.
What a mess.
I'm going to become one of those people I hate. That think they're arty and try their best to dress in a certain way and wear glasses and hats and talk about the concepts behind their drawings which are mediochre and everyone but them knows it and they never get anywhere and they never actually go to art school and after this rediculous arty phase that they look back on fondly as their "crazy young days" and keep photographs of it in shoeboxes that they dig out after too much red wine and television when they've settled down and aquired 2.4 kids that don't respect them and a spouse that doesnt really love them or share their interests or their politics and works in a mundane job that they got off the back of a boring business degree that they drank their way through wishing they were arty.
Definately.
( This is mostly rubbish but it is fun to make lists of things you hate that people say. )
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| Rubbish |
[April 02, 2007 @ 11:12am] |
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There is no post.
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| Retarded. |
[March 30, 2007 @ 11:08pm] |
Today I was making my great-auntie Mary a key lime pie and I was using a hand held food processor to make biscuit crumbs.
I had stopped the processor in order to pick out some of the biscuit crumbs which were blocking the blade.
While doing this with my right index finger. With my left hand I turned the food processor back on.
I'M NOT EVEN JOKING.
I still have my finger just about. But it now has three deep cuts in it, I can't really move it, and I think I must have lost about a pint of blood.
I've decided that tomorrow I am going to get a letter from Glasgow about whether or not I get an interview. It's definately going to happen, because thats how things work in my life, I mean, for example remember my fainting/exam results/getting dumped/getting high in a museum/crying in partick station two day extravaganza?
While my life is pretty much stress free, enough stressful things to last three months always happen all at once, usually in the space of about 48 hours.
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| "Mess with the bull - you'll get the horns" |
[March 20, 2007 @ 6:27pm] |
Today was a complete waste of a day. French as ever, was useless. And I got sent home for not wearing school uniform and displaying a "bad attitude", which meant I missed most of art.
When Mr Kick came up and declared to me that I was going home an odd thing happened... I went "wooooosh!" (wooosh being the sound of my mind going back over the last year of my life.. anyway..) "Woosh!" and then I asked myself ;
"Am I BAD?! Have I become BAD?!?"
It was a very odd moment, I had always wanted to be bad, and had been very bad at being bad.
then "Woosh" back in the room.
It then occured to me that, in fact, most people in the room were not wearing uniform, in fact most poeple in the room were not wearing uniform and making homophobic slurs. However, Mr Kick seemed to not mind this as that is just a case of "oh hell.. boys will be boys.. ho ho ho..."
I however am a case of "silly little woman who needs to be told".. So it seems that i am not that bad, which is a shame really, I was thinking about writing a rap.
In any case, I went home, which was actually quite good, it meant I got a cup of tea in my break. Class.
But from now on I will vigilantly point out every single time that Mr Kick is sexist. He is a very sexist man, and I have pse with him tomorrow, I am looking forward to it.
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[March 18, 2007 @ 11:59pm] |
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Also. This afternoon, My mother found Oonagh's tea flask leaking tequila, AND a copy of Greenday's "american idiot" in the fridge.
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