|
| Blog transferred from blogspot. Don't really know what I was thinking, posting this on my artblog. Anyway, I'll probably write something about Spain shortly. It's apparently really easy to put off writing about a holiday.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Long-time no-posts. That would be my native-American name.
In spite of such an inexcusable 9-week absence, I return to bastardise my art-blog's untarnished focus of 'art work', with unprecedented, unfathomable amounts of text; weakly explaining my leave and contextualising the otherwise incongruous upcoming photo-blog(s).
In this time, I have completed the final two modules of uni and moved home into some lazy, albeit suspenseful, degree-results limbo; but not without spending two weeks in Spain. Ergo-photo-pablo.
So, the next plan-o-action is to get my nocturnal derriere in some low-paying, tolerable but admittedly shit job (by recession standards), and slowly amass a moving-out sum, to earnestly fling myself into inevitable career success and prosperity. /hope
For this to work; and in such an time of global-financial shit-fuckery, I'll need to somehow make myself more employable than the billions of unemployed-employee types, many of whom I lost track of when I opted to stay in education, post-16. Scratch that; '...more employable than ONE of these people'. That's much more realistic. /politics
My CV must be tailored to make me appear practical, diligent and sheepishly unquestioning to authority, whilst avoiding the revelation that, I probably hate them, I'm shittingly over-qualified and likely to abandon them on the arrival any greater opportunity. /snobbery
/using this horrible paragraph suffix.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
| | |
| Basically I used google translator to convert the lyrics to 'deal or no demo' into Japanese, and then back in to English, thus creating an Engrish version of Deal or no Demo. Enjoy.
################################################## # # # #
a contract and no protests - Klaus Simon and James Blake by the D avioŁ lyrics
################################################## # # # #
What box?
(What box?)
What box?
(What box?)
What box?
(I do not know what)
I do not know
It is a thousand pounds?
A 20 pound?
30 to 6 20?
I do not know
I do not know
It is a snake?
() Break
Oh, I hope that's not a snake
Like a cobra or adder
Whether or Python, mamba,
Such as lager and cider
Anaconda in your Honda
Some of you like cornflake cornsnakes
Milksnake in a milkshake
And the Thai toilet pan
Oh well I hope it's a different god of snakes
(Chorus)
2000 pounds?
That's 40 pounds
Or the 2-50 K?
I do not know
I do not know
Moleshark it?
() Break
Moleshark not Christ, I hope!
It will be the key
Fate of the ovaries?
Gateway to Oregon
Whisk non-compliance?
Or a portal
Badger's atrocities?
Or to jitty
1 100000 pound mammoth?
(Chorus)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
He MAZEYO your fingers of the feet?!
(Hairy toes)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
Please note that Moleshark!
(Hot, hot)
He MAZEYO your fingers of the feet?!
(Hairy toes)
| | |
| For some reason we were all asked to come up with our own individual story concepts for a group based module; despite us only using one concept between five people.
It's difficult to exemplify the sheer degree of baked I was when I wrote this...
Creative Animation (CAN) Story idea for a short film. Genre: Comedy Target Audience: Teenagers and Young adults (12-30) Although probably flexible. Length: 2.5 minutes Approx The story begins as a proud and mighty bear is awoken from his sacred Sunday afternoon kip by petulant rabbits incessantly rogering on his front lawn. He dons his stripy slippers and rolls up yesterdays newsprint, and marches determinedly out of his clichéd mossy, forest creature accommodation and stands sternly at the edge of his crazy paving.He draws a deep sharp breath and widens his stance, leans forward and forces out the meanest, most fearsome, grizzly roar he can muster. Only his roar isn't quite a roar. The rogering rabbits collapse in fits of laughter as the mighty bear instead, emits a desperate and pathetic squeak. The bear cowers in embarrassment and runs back inside. Cut to an interior scene. The bear sits on it's stackable plastic chair, dwarfing it. He's in a self-help group, holding a polystyrene cup of machine coffee with teary eyes, and a quivering jaw. Cut to a similar scene as what began, rabbits continuing to roger. The rabbits giggle at the sight of the disgruntled bear standing at the same spot on his DIY patio as the first time they saw him, and continue the rogering unphased. This time the bear smirks, leans forward and bellows a deafening roar, that causes the rabbits to petrify and die instantly. The bear looks pleased with himself, sighs and walks across the lawn and is nonchalantly shot by poachers whilst picking up his morning paper.
The End
I then created this.
Just wanted to share.
| | |
| Simon and I wrote a song tonight. Its working title is 'Deal or no Demo' and it's based on the gameshow of a similar name.
######################################################
Deal Or No Demo - lyrics by Simon James Klaús and Davio L Blake
######################################################
What's in the boxes?
(What's in the boxes?)
What's in the boxes?
(What's in the boxes?)
What's in the boxes?
(What's in the I don't know)
I don't know
Is it a thousand pounds?
Is it twenty pounds?
Is it thirty-six twenty?
I don't know
I don't know
Is it a snake?
(break)
Oh, I hope it's not a snake
Like a cobra, or an adder
or a python, or a mamba,
like a lager and a cider
Anaconda in your Honda
like some cornsnakes in your cornflakes
and a milksnake in your milkshake
and a taipan in your bedpan
Oh good god I hope it's not another snake
(Chorus)
Is it two thousand pounds?
Is it forty pounds
or two-fifty K?
I don't know
I don't know
Is it a Moleshark?
(break)
Christ I hope it's not the Moleshark
Is it the key to the
ovary of destiny?
Or the gateway to the
whisk of non-conformity?
Or the portal to the
badger of atrocity?
Or the jitty to the
Mammoth of a hundred thousand pounds?
(Chorus)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
He'll bite your fucking toes
(Motherfucking toes)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
Beware the Moleshark,
(Motherfucking, Motherfucking)
He'll bite your fucking toes
(Motherfucking toes)
######################################################
 | | |
| Life is bland, you know. Not having any work to do is magical n'all for the first few weeks, then you kinda get stuck in this holiday limbo. An endless cycle of sleeping all day, partying all night, and collapsing from exhaustion whenever the sun comes up. Sleeping, however, is not helped by the fact that my curtains are completely rubbish and may as well not even exist. I've recently found myself barricading my window with towels and pillows and bits of card, trying to seal off every bit of annoying light so I can finally sleep for 13 hours, and this all makes me feel twatishly vampiric.
Thing is, Id really like a job this summer. The most debilitating thing between me and this objective, is that I have my entire family and family friends nagging me about doing something about it. My father above all should understand that I'm permanently conditioned to do precisely not what I'm nagged to do after 20 years of having predominantly bad things the subject of all nagging. Thereby reinforcing my nocturnal habits so I don't have to deal with anyone. The bastards. I need a night shift.
Whenever I do resurface, probably around 4 or 5pm, with and unprecedented hairdo and an immediate kettle boiling. My pointless whatever's-in-the-fridge life is gently ridiculed by whichever patronising cretin is about the house during sociable hours. There'll be an ironic 'GOOD MORNING!' or a 'GOOD NIGHT LAST NIGHT THEN?'
It wasn't funny the first time someone said it, and it's not getting any titting funnier.
Most painful of all, is when I actually do wake before 11am and they smugly ask 'You wet the bed?'
To which I reply; 'Yeah, um, I had a bit of wee on myself, yes.'
So tonight I intend to break the cycle with a nasty 25 hours of wakeness resulting in a bedtime of 8pm and a hopefully reset body-clock. In this time I can play as many computer games and eat as much shit-from-the-fridge, and have as many kettle boilings that I like, because I'm being fucking productive.
| | |
|
