Thoughts of an Anarchist

So, the Top Gear Polar Special was really rather amusing.

I am not ashamed to say that I was a bit sad when Hamster mentioned his ‘little weep’, and also my amused eyebrow raise at the fact that Clarkson couldn’t keep himself from expressing his cynicism at global warming. How the hell did May manage to put up with being in a small confined space with him? And the dogs were a bit cute.

I actually laughed out loud at this part, just because of the sheer stupidity of it all.

Oh, you loveable weirdos. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I know nothing about cars, nothing at all, and they don’t interest me at all, but I love this show to pieces.

In addition, Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf is absolutely hilarious. Here is the last part, which you could probably manage to listen to. And I had a little weep at that too, because damnit I’ll weep at anything.

Fish came round last week, (seriously, Fish, stop changing your blog name!) and we sobbed over Casanova. It was her first time. She took the opportunity to berate me for showing her, as she called it, old man porn and crazy gay-but-not-gay porn. She enjoyed it anyway. And made interesting noises.

Also, we (by which I mean Jenn, Jim and Monarch) went to see The Simpsons Movie and it was very funny.

And we (by which I mean I) went to see Harry Potter and the Merchandising Order of Hell and it was very unintentionally funny. Luna was superb. The rest of the film… nah, sorry. Maybe it was just the death of SPOILER done so badly, but the film fell a bit flat for me.

Turning square eyed,

Abs x

 Written partially on the YPC Residential. I’m proud of this one. Feedback is, as ever, love.

i: Election day

goodmorning she says

            conforming to the hurried way we speak

squashed and worried

                        we don’tthink.

                              Don’t think it’s right?

call onyour muses

and beg for a tune to dance to

            I don’t think you’ll getone, somehow.

we shield ourselves in letters;

it’sthe only way we know.

we never learnt thewordsto freedom,

            only the lyrics to dictatorship.

A revolution, a storm is oming

            helloit’sgoodto meet you

            i am your voice

                        what would you like to say today?

ii: The Meeting

and of course,

            again

we return to the fray

once more unto the breach,

dear poets

         your words splicing

                             cutting

                              biting

splitting thick skins of liars

here we are

        we are? we are.

here we are

        we are the word soldiers.

    Young Voices

all shouting; it’s what we do

Best.

and we don’t know what we’re doing

and we don’t know if it’s working

and we don’t know if they’re caring

but we do.

iii: (sarcasm)

pretentious strands of purple

weaved on apathetic looms

is this what we’re all fighting for?

(idealism)

No.

We have our own personas

            And individuals are the key.

(optimism)

Together we stand; divided we move.

(realism)

but,

    if we all hold hands

(hope)

                                    and squint

                                                    maybe we can see the future 

                                                                                                        today?

iv: Breathless

and in this silence,

 we are finally breathless.

“there will be a perfect moment”

when the skies burn red

and the fingers reach

and the final ecstatic twists of day

            will break away

                        to

nothing

leaving us

  staring at each other

  across this abyss

our words mingling in the dark

until even that fades

and leaves us

perfectly still; we are calm at last.

and, in this silence,

we, the soldiers of words, worlds apart,

are finally

            breathless.

GAHAHAHA I’M FINALLY WRITING IT.

It’s a play now, thanks to Dingle’s input, with Arrhenius and Eddie and Patrick and ooooh it’s fun. It’s a lot of fun. Nyahaha. Prologue finished. I can’t describe how it feels to finally have started writing something I’ve been planning for over a year, but that’s exactly what it is and it feels like you’d imagine it to.

… erm, yes, I have writing skills…

“When I say bastard, I don’t just mean ‘not a very nice person’, you understand; I mean an absolute, cold-hearted, kitten-kicking misanthrope. I don’t just steal candy from babies, I steal mothers. Home wrecking is my favourite hobby… I find it’s good for the soul.

If I had one. Which I don’t.”