Just being anal...
I now have four copies of Grace by Jeff Buckley. I'm a fucking champion. *happy dance*
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Showing posts with label jeff buckley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jeff buckley. Show all posts
She's corrupting us - HURRAH! ♥
I want to die. No. I'm serious. You know that massive quiz I've been filling out all day - did I tell you about it? No? Well, I was filling out a quiz on MySpace, and it was enormous. Well, my fingers accidentally mashed some buttons on my keyboard, and it left. Disappeared. Kaput. Gone.
Seriously, I cried for ten minutes. I hadn't cried in ages. It feels quite stupid to waste such a good cry on a stupid MySpace quiz. But seriously, I've been filling it out all day. From about ten in the morning until about eight-thirty at night. And then it just goes. See, this is why I fucking hate computers. It was a fucking ace quiz too, and I had some good answers.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! *sobs uncontrollably and then slits*
Oh well. No use slitting over spilt milk. I'll just have to blog.
I'm quite proud of Stromhole (oh, and this is another addition to Why Stromhole Is Actually A Prison theory). We've made it to the national papers. Well, to be anal, Tara made it to the national papers and dragged Stromhole along with her. Surprisingly, I thought Stromhole would get put in for having a riot or an escape first. But no. We get put in because we let Tara off the grounds to have a smoke? It's a bit of an anti-climax, isn't it? I mean, the thing I don't get about this whole thing, is why exactly she needs to go out of bounds. The teachers all know her and her friends smoke like chimneys and they don't really care. They know there's nothing they can do about it, so everyone just turns a blind eye to the far shade shelter - it's a good system. So why do we need to mess with the system? Answer me that and I'll be happy.
There'd been a shooting at a service station/convenience store. I walked in and saw Jeff Buckley over in the corner. He was running the store while the guy who'd been shot was in hospital. Jeff was dressed in a really nice flanny and he had his longish hair (basically picture him in the video for Last Goodbye), and he was looking forlornly into the lolly cabinet. I walked over to him and he turned and said sadly, "I want an Alaska Bar." But there weren't any in the cabinet and he looked really upset, so I offered to buy him a soft drink. He perked up a little, but then I realised I didn't have any money. Then (rather conveniently) a man came up to us and offered us forty dollars to turn a blind eye while he stole televisions from the back storeroom. Jeff seemed appalled, but I said, "Make it fifty." and then I woke up.
To Do This Weekend:
- English Assignment
- Entertainment Inc Assignment
- Music Assignment
- Maths Assignment
Completed?
None. But I did go up to my Aunt and Uncle's house and scrubbed their doors...
I'm a total sucker for a pretty man. This theory is based on another dream I had (NONE OF WHICH I AM REPEATING, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!) a few nights ago. Put a pretty man in front of me and I'll freeze, go quiet for a moment, and then, if he told me to, I'd probably go jump of a cliff...
Another dream: The Chaser guys were filming a skit in my backyard and I went outside to talk to Andrew. I said to him, "Why is your hair always so crazy? You'd look much more attractive if you just had your hair normal..." and he replied something about how he was sponsored by hair gel companies and how his hair was insured for some extravagant amount of money.
I dreamt something about a large dog last night, but I can't remember any of it...
Note to self: Bring teddy on Monday.
Seriously, I cried for ten minutes. I hadn't cried in ages. It feels quite stupid to waste such a good cry on a stupid MySpace quiz. But seriously, I've been filling it out all day. From about ten in the morning until about eight-thirty at night. And then it just goes. See, this is why I fucking hate computers. It was a fucking ace quiz too, and I had some good answers.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK! *sobs uncontrollably and then slits*
Oh well. No use slitting over spilt milk. I'll just have to blog.
I'm quite proud of Stromhole (oh, and this is another addition to Why Stromhole Is Actually A Prison theory). We've made it to the national papers. Well, to be anal, Tara made it to the national papers and dragged Stromhole along with her. Surprisingly, I thought Stromhole would get put in for having a riot or an escape first. But no. We get put in because we let Tara off the grounds to have a smoke? It's a bit of an anti-climax, isn't it? I mean, the thing I don't get about this whole thing, is why exactly she needs to go out of bounds. The teachers all know her and her friends smoke like chimneys and they don't really care. They know there's nothing they can do about it, so everyone just turns a blind eye to the far shade shelter - it's a good system. So why do we need to mess with the system? Answer me that and I'll be happy.
There'd been a shooting at a service station/convenience store. I walked in and saw Jeff Buckley over in the corner. He was running the store while the guy who'd been shot was in hospital. Jeff was dressed in a really nice flanny and he had his longish hair (basically picture him in the video for Last Goodbye), and he was looking forlornly into the lolly cabinet. I walked over to him and he turned and said sadly, "I want an Alaska Bar." But there weren't any in the cabinet and he looked really upset, so I offered to buy him a soft drink. He perked up a little, but then I realised I didn't have any money. Then (rather conveniently) a man came up to us and offered us forty dollars to turn a blind eye while he stole televisions from the back storeroom. Jeff seemed appalled, but I said, "Make it fifty." and then I woke up.
To Do This Weekend:
- English Assignment
- Entertainment Inc Assignment
- Music Assignment
- Maths Assignment
Completed?
None. But I did go up to my Aunt and Uncle's house and scrubbed their doors...
I'm a total sucker for a pretty man. This theory is based on another dream I had (NONE OF WHICH I AM REPEATING, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!) a few nights ago. Put a pretty man in front of me and I'll freeze, go quiet for a moment, and then, if he told me to, I'd probably go jump of a cliff...
Another dream: The Chaser guys were filming a skit in my backyard and I went outside to talk to Andrew. I said to him, "Why is your hair always so crazy? You'd look much more attractive if you just had your hair normal..." and he replied something about how he was sponsored by hair gel companies and how his hair was insured for some extravagant amount of money.
I dreamt something about a large dog last night, but I can't remember any of it...
Note to self: Bring teddy on Monday.
Of all the forests in all the world...
I woke up at 9 this morning. Except technically it was only 8 because I refuse to acknowledge daylight savings. So I woke up and looked out the window, trying to remember the dream I'd been having. Something about school and being hunted down by Miss Evans, though it wasn't totally strange since a lot of my dreams seem to have that theme in them these days.
But anyway, I woke up and stumbled down to the loungeroom to try and watch some TV, except my eyes were glued together so that I could only make out one big blur on the screen. Then I fell asleep on the couch again until the phone rang and woke me up. Then I went and answered it and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Unndhkdllll?
Uncle Ian:Uumm... Hi Caitlin. Can I speak to your Mum? I want to bring the whipper-snipper and the lawnmower down now.
Me:Unnndddsshhhhlll... *Snores* Uhh... Bring dsifjkl it down now. It'll be fine... lkdsffjjjjjjjjjjjj...
And then I hung up. Damn I'm good in the mornings...
Oooh. It's just started pissing down outside. Actually, it's been pissing down ever since Friday afternoon, except it's been stopping every once in a while and some of the sun got through. Very considerate of the rain, actually, to come and visit us again. Except it's nearly Summer now, so it's been being a bit lazy. We had basically no rain at all through Winter and now it's heading towards the tail end of Spring it starts bucketing down (Well, not really, but compared to having none for almost half a year, it seems like heaps...)... Go figure...
Oh my god! Hi five for me! I just found my battery re-charger after about a year and a half of looking for it! YYYEEAAAHHH!!! *dances*
But now I'm sleepy, so I think I might leave and try and get my stuff together for school tomorrow.
But before I go, here's a video for Kim and Chiara, who I know both adore Graham Coxon. Even though in this video I think he looks oddly like John Lennon. Maybe it's just the glasses...
Oh my god, oh my god. Hold on a second. This is hilarious... XD
SEEE!!! I TOLD YOUUUU!!! SHIRTLESS GRAHAM!!! I also have shirtless Damon:
Or maybe Damon and Jarvis Cocker playing soccer (HAHAH! IT RHYMES!)?:
Remind you of anyone?:
Anyone want a writing Jeff?:
Or maybe a seductive one?:
And because I'm sleepy, and in an incredibly generous (or maybe stupid, who knows?) mood, here are some bedtime stories read by everyones favourite time travelling cop/raver/Time Lord, John Simm:
But anyway, I woke up and stumbled down to the loungeroom to try and watch some TV, except my eyes were glued together so that I could only make out one big blur on the screen. Then I fell asleep on the couch again until the phone rang and woke me up. Then I went and answered it and the conversation went something like this:
Me: Unndhkdllll?
Uncle Ian:Uumm... Hi Caitlin. Can I speak to your Mum? I want to bring the whipper-snipper and the lawnmower down now.
Me:Unnndddsshhhhlll... *Snores* Uhh... Bring dsifjkl it down now. It'll be fine... lkdsffjjjjjjjjjjjj...
And then I hung up. Damn I'm good in the mornings...
Oooh. It's just started pissing down outside. Actually, it's been pissing down ever since Friday afternoon, except it's been stopping every once in a while and some of the sun got through. Very considerate of the rain, actually, to come and visit us again. Except it's nearly Summer now, so it's been being a bit lazy. We had basically no rain at all through Winter and now it's heading towards the tail end of Spring it starts bucketing down (Well, not really, but compared to having none for almost half a year, it seems like heaps...)... Go figure...
Oh my god! Hi five for me! I just found my battery re-charger after about a year and a half of looking for it! YYYEEAAAHHH!!! *dances*
But now I'm sleepy, so I think I might leave and try and get my stuff together for school tomorrow.
But before I go, here's a video for Kim and Chiara, who I know both adore Graham Coxon. Even though in this video I think he looks oddly like John Lennon. Maybe it's just the glasses...
Oh my god, oh my god. Hold on a second. This is hilarious... XD
SEEE!!! I TOLD YOUUUU!!! SHIRTLESS GRAHAM!!! I also have shirtless Damon:
Or maybe Damon and Jarvis Cocker playing soccer (HAHAH! IT RHYMES!)?:
Remind you of anyone?:
Anyone want a writing Jeff?:
Or maybe a seductive one?:
And because I'm sleepy, and in an incredibly generous (or maybe stupid, who knows?) mood, here are some bedtime stories read by everyones favourite time travelling cop/raver/Time Lord, John Simm:
Leck mich am Arsch! (Fuck off and die!)
ASSIGNMENT LIST:
- English Poetry Assignment
- Entertainment Inc Creative Assignment
- Music Performance (x2)
- Music Composition (Am I Doing This With Kim, Or Is It A Solo Assignment? I NEED TO READ THE SHEET!)
- Early Childhood Mobile
Hmm. I didn't blog at all over the weekend. Naughty Caitlin. *punches self in face*. I meant to do some homework (seriously), but pretty much all I did was sleep, eat and write a crappy story which ended in me rambling about World War Two. Actually, a lot of things in my life are just me rambling about World War Two... Oh well. XD
Gaah. Poetry assignment. At least it's alright. Just analysing it. I don't mind analysing poetry - it's fun, because you can bullshit and it's hard to get wrong, because it's your interpretation of the work. I wanna do a song by Jeff Buckley, but I'm not sure. Maybe I'll find a nice World War Two poem (see, everything comes back to it), because I do like poetry from that era.
Gaah. Seven more weeks of school. So close, and yet so far away. And it's getting so hot (31 today! *melts*) - and so violent. This adds to my 'prison' idea. All our janitors (suddenly we've had an influx) look like they're out on day release. I mean, they're nice guys, but I miss the janitor who got fired for punching one of the rats. (I think was was punching. Some kind of phyical violence...) He was cool. And he was nice looking. Generally, he was a nice person...
And the c-word is being used a hell of a lot more. I heard it a billion times today. Ok, well maybe not a billion times, but you know what I mean. When Kojo tried to go Darcy outside the English classroom, I think I might've come close to hearing it a billion times then ('Thin' you're a big man, yeh fuckin' x-word?!?!?! I'll bash yeh, yeh C-WORD!'), especially when he started swearing at Mrs. Schubert (Miss Meier, Schoobie, whatever) for trying to tell him to bugger off and protect Darcy a little. But then Pretty-Teacher-Who's-Name-I-Can-Never-Remember came up and was trying to get Kojo to fuck off as well. Fair enough, because Kojo is a prick. Wait - I take that back - I don't wanna get bashed - no, wait again. He probably can't read, so I'll be safe. XD
This is the song I want to do for my poetry assignment. But I'm afraid it would be hard to analyse. I mean, what's it about? Drugs? A dream? I could always do Mojo Pin, because I know that's about a dream (Hahaha.) or Dream Brother, because it's pretty bloody obvious what that's about... But I really like this song. Speaking of which, I want to learn it on guitar, but that's beside the point (linkeh to tabs Seriously, look at them. It's an ace song...). I think I will do it for my assignment. It seems a slightly better prospect than 'Can't Touch This' by MC Hammer...
Ghost calls to visit
With my keys in his pocket
Kisses in my mouth with his
Eyes hanging out of his sockets
My memories crumble
Under still resistance
I was torn out like pages
From the book of existence
I woke up in a strange place
My mind a blur and some blood on my chin
I made a call for a blackened cab
Some destination was moving on in
I remember the words that you told me
How they come down so hard, so plain
Fate is going to find your love in a
Glass of champagne
I lied to my host i told him
I knew how far i could go
When i emptied my guts out
On his brand new stereo
Well he paid me to go upstairs
And spend a night with his friend
I never want to see my face
In the mirror again
I woke up in a strange place
Music so loud that i spilled all my beer
I met a ride in that blackened cab
Some destination was all that he had
Easy now, this car is speeding up
For my last chance, crashing to freedom
Fate is going to find your love in a
Glass of champagne
Sweat pours down
You're in the back seat sleeping
And she waits by the window
On an empty bed, weeping
The ghost guns the motor
To the land that he promised me
I guess this is the time when your
Best intentions become facts again
This is no song for the dislocated
The one you loved but it turned to be hated
Because the lies of the spirit possessed you
Because the eyes of your lover resist you
Listen now, you keep your aim steady
As your temple turns to kiss the pistol
Fate is going to find your love
In a glass of champagne
Fate is going to find your love
In a glass of champagne
Free - only in today's Independent!
You only have the strength left to fall onto your bed, too tired to take off your shoes, leaving yourself clothed for convienience.
All you feel these days is your age. You feel so old that you swear you can hear your joints creaking when you stumble out of bed in the mornings, so old that you feel like you should be in a home already, being fed through an IV tube. Every day you feel it; creeping up on you, jumping out from behind walls and dealing you a painful punch to the gut before it runs off and hides again, only to repeat it's cruel joke again the next day. And the next day. And the day after that...
Twisting your head slightly you're confronted with the sight of the moon, the stars and the sky, all looking down on you. How old are they? Billions of years? More? They're all older than you, that's for sure. But at the moment you feel as old as they are. You feel like time is moving around you on super-high speed and that you are simply standing still, watching it pass. As everything passes you by - friends, jobs, family, events, lovers, pets, seconds, mintues, hours, days - and you feel simply as though you're rooted stuck to the same spot.
---
I dunno. I'm thinking of doing David's story as a diary. I've been reading a lot of diaries recently. I like diaries, and I think it's the kind of thing David would do.
---
*Sighs* Mmmm... Jeff Buckley. Jeff is always good music for when I'm feeling shit.
---
No more jokes. I'm mean to people. I'm going to stop being mean. And crude. I'll generally just stop now. Take a deep breath and think. No one likes a fool. And I'm going to stop being such a pervert too. I'm gonna roll with it, as an incredibly bad British band might say.
Anyway, off to watch the Bill.