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Mar. 8th, 2006 12:59 pmIn one week, I will be going to see the Mighty Boosh with K.
In two and a bit weeks, it will be the end of term.
In two and a half weeks, I will be 21.
In three and a half weeks, my Green Wing DVDs will be delivered :D
It's slightly terrifying that it's already practically the end of term. Although this has been a short term, and we're still having some lectures and seminars after Easter. But we also have a couple of assessed pieces and a Takeaway Exam pretty much straight after Easter. And the fact is, I haven't really been doing any work so far except the basic reading/workshop exercises. I've read no theory or historical/contextual stuff. I've written nothing (I don't think the Craig/Wade angst will count). So I feel like I should be panicking. Or settling in for a stressful Easter.
The birthday thing is just plain odd. I'm going for a meal with the family, and as far as I know they're (well, mum's) still deadset on buying me some fancy lump of gold or platinum 'keepsake'. Which is lovely, and I'll probably appreciate it in years to comewhen I sell it for crack?, but seems like not the most useful thing I could get. Although to be fair, if I was to get what I wanted it'd probably be a short list of DVD boxsets and a trip to Cuba. So usefulness is probably not my key arguing point here.
American Gothic is out soon. AndBarty Crouch Jr Goblet of Fire. Still no word on the Crime and Punishment DVD. I live in hope.
I discovered this icon yesterday. I don't even like it all that much, but all of a sudden I want to write a book about a post-apocalyptic world (or, perhaps, just like our world, but without electricity and cars and such) wherein books are suddenly seen in the same light as drugs - not necessarily illegal or harmful, but just sort of wasteful and self-indulgent now the world's gone to hell. And the library's are now 'owned' by the criminal underworld, and there are gangs of hardcore literature-heads like the Modernists, and the Sci-fi crew, and the Romantics (they will fuck your shit up), and you can get literally stabbed for a book. Also there are some fires. Possibly there are a hundred books like this. Possibly I will write it anyway. Except that the thought of a world without central heating, where you just have to be cold, all the time makes me want to cry a bit. Possibly I will save it and do Nano. Possibly you'll never hear about it again. Yes.
In two and a bit weeks, it will be the end of term.
In two and a half weeks, I will be 21.
In three and a half weeks, my Green Wing DVDs will be delivered :D
It's slightly terrifying that it's already practically the end of term. Although this has been a short term, and we're still having some lectures and seminars after Easter. But we also have a couple of assessed pieces and a Takeaway Exam pretty much straight after Easter. And the fact is, I haven't really been doing any work so far except the basic reading/workshop exercises. I've read no theory or historical/contextual stuff. I've written nothing (I don't think the Craig/Wade angst will count). So I feel like I should be panicking. Or settling in for a stressful Easter.
The birthday thing is just plain odd. I'm going for a meal with the family, and as far as I know they're (well, mum's) still deadset on buying me some fancy lump of gold or platinum 'keepsake'. Which is lovely, and I'll probably appreciate it in years to come
American Gothic is out soon. And
I discovered this icon yesterday. I don't even like it all that much, but all of a sudden I want to write a book about a post-apocalyptic world (or, perhaps, just like our world, but without electricity and cars and such) wherein books are suddenly seen in the same light as drugs - not necessarily illegal or harmful, but just sort of wasteful and self-indulgent now the world's gone to hell. And the library's are now 'owned' by the criminal underworld, and there are gangs of hardcore literature-heads like the Modernists, and the Sci-fi crew, and the Romantics (they will fuck your shit up), and you can get literally stabbed for a book. Also there are some fires. Possibly there are a hundred books like this. Possibly I will write it anyway. Except that the thought of a world without central heating, where you just have to be cold, all the time makes me want to cry a bit. Possibly I will save it and do Nano. Possibly you'll never hear about it again. Yes.
