Thoughts of an Anarchist

Drama coursework = le sigh.

We’re trying to finish a piece called Clay. Well, we think it’s called Clay. It’s a source of much debate. Horseradish, to be precise. (Oh, my, the wit of me!) It’s about… well…

plz hold whilst we transfer yous to the department of bckstory, n00b

Visualize it. You come in to the theatre. You sit down. It’s brightly lit onstage, quite dim in the audience. There’s nothing on the black stage. You’re nervous, apprehensive, anticipating of the play. You chatter lightly with your friends. Then the lights black out. So quickly you think it’s only a glitch, they sweep back up to blinding level on the stage, leaving you in darkness. On stage are a small crate, casting a shadow, and a long polythene bag, coated in clay. The kind you get clay in. Under it you think you can see a body. Then the lights go down again. TOTAL BLACK. And the music starts to play… the creepy beats of ‘It Fit When I Was A Kid’ by The Liars. (They’re the Sex, by the way, so download them now, kthnx.) And as the lights come up, you see a beautiful model on the overturned crate, posed classically, a starving, tired artist with clay up his arms and paint on his shirt ripping the bag open and pulling out a woman, in grey hotpants and top, coated in clay, who he pushes, and moulds… and you realise that he is moulding the clay.

Jacques is an artist - an apprentice, to be precise, in an artist’s workshop. His master is working on a piece with a model who’s perfect. Skin white as snow, hair like ebony, all that stuff. Jacques couldn’t give a damn. He just wants to do a piece with her, and fast. So he does.

But. Gasp. Plot twist. His master dismisses the model before Jacques can finish his sculpture, and Jacques goes vaguely schizo. HE MUS7 F1NI5H 7HIS P13CE!!!12eleventyone!!!!11 z0mg. So he looks everywhere for her. He talks to his clay, he sketches everywhere, he stalks ladies, he gets arrested, he gets his face slashed up, he changes his appearance and shaves his beard and head, he immigrates, he leaves his cushty job with the master, and becomes, well, a wee bit obsessed.

The ending, us being us, is sad. Well, maybe not sad. Perhaps bittersweet. He does find her eventually - and he does finish his piece - but his master takes the sculpture and claims it as his own. And it becomes quite possibly the most celebrated statue of the year, and nobody would possibly believe it was the work of some smelly little apprentice. He doesn’t even have a beard, for God’s sake!

And so Jacques drops to his knees and the lights black out, and he picks up a ball of clay, and slowly, he begins to mould the clay again.

We’re only up to scene 7 of 21. We’re performing in two weeks.

Yeah. Go on. Say it. We’re fucked.

Yours for now,

Abs x

I wholly applaud the author of this work. *salutes*

—

Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance.

The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura, penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It’s funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:

Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God’s Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.

I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:

When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.

Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can’t I own Canadians?

I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I
morally obligated to kill him myself?

A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don’t agree. Can you settle this?

Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?

I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn’t we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God’s word is eternal and unchanging.

Your devoted fan,
Jim

Some people make me wonder about this world. They really do.

And how am I today? Why, I’m…

How evil are you?

Aside from that, I’m good. Fear Her was good, I missed the Cricklade Duck Race (Jimmy and I sat on the bank for ten minutes before we realised we’d come a day early, and I got a large whack round the head), and today’s revision session was great. I’m also taking part in a DW RP, which I love. Yay for the emo!angst.

And… yeah, that was my weekend, pretty much. I don’t honestly have much to blog here, I merely got yelled at by Sophie today for not updating my blog enough, so here’s my gratuitous update.

Wish me luck for the exams tomorrow. Chemisty, Physics and Biology modulars. And I’ve had no sleep and I don’t understand Chemistry and I’m going to fail and lack of sleep lack of brain lack of coherence sdgijfllzz zzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZ.

Yours for now,

Abs x

“YEEHAH!”

The temptress crashed through the window red leather boots first, laughing her head off as the public screamed and scattered like sheep. Drawing a pistol and swinging it round one finger, she moved towards the counter, and cocked the barrel at the man behind it. Her teasing finger stroked the trigger. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Her voice was cocky, sharp but drawling, and her bright red lips shone dangerously as she aimed the gun at the hand the man had been reaching towards the phone. Slowly, and savouring the damn adrenaline rush, she swung herself up onto the bar, and slipped over it, landing right on the assistant’s lap. She pressed the gun towards his face and undid the assistant’s tie slowly… slowly… “Get the cash.”

The man nodded weakly, or as best he could with her gun at his head, and behind him the safe was opened. She heard it click, arched her neck and smiled at the familiar sound of panic and terror, at the delicious sound of numbers tumbling into place,  not moving her eyes from the man’s, searching for any hint of betrayal. A hand pressed some bags, light but brimming with notes, into her outstretched palm. She didn’t check if they were real. She didn’t care. Forcefully, she kissed the man she was straddling hard on the forehead. Her scarlet lips left a staring mark.

Then, waving the gun almost carelessly, the infamous vixen clambered off, her hat askew, and fired a shot into the ceiling… and as the smoke cleared, she sprinted out the door, leaving a lipstick-smeared name on the marble countertop as her calling card.

—

When your girlfriend’s made of concrete.

Um. Can’t think of anything to blog about. Tamino BadWolf celebrated it’s first birthday on June 5th, which is a true cause for celebration! Here’s to many more glorious years! *salutes*

And… Love and Monsters was suckage. And no pretty. And aside from that… nothing much has happened. I can’t even think of something deeply profound or ranty to say.

Wow. Mediocrity wins.

Yours for now,

Abs x 

Amazing Maurice! It’s amazing!