Back again

I am back from France with a vengeance pirate flag. I’ve been to Val Andre several times before staying at the same house so its all pretty familiar. The beautiful beach, the other beautiful beaches to drive to, the wonderful ice cream place and the restaurant with the pirate figure outside. This pirate always creeps me out, not because hes scary, but because i’ve seen him in England (outside Radio Jackie headquarters, though i believe it has been replaced with a skeleton pirate now). It was cloudy most days (except the day we had to drive back, how typical) but we still went down and swam every day despite the occasionally screaming when i got into the water.

Two different things this holiday: We visited St Malo (where i got my pirate flag!) which is mainly famous for having ramparts all the way around it. But more exciting we went to the circus! Okay, it wasn’t like an amazingly exciting circus but it did have a lion tamer which was so awesomely awesome. I can actually feel the RSPCA giving me evil looks for going to a circus just to see the animals, however i couldn’t resist. There was a lion cub (which wasn’t in the show, but they had all the animals outside before it started), it was the most adorable thing ever, especially when it tried to roar which the larger lions did (everyone stepped away from the cages when they did that). There was also: a bison (not part of the show again! which was a shame because it was surprisingly cute),two very tiny ponies, a beautiful black horse, a random billy goat (im not sure if he was with the circus or was just in the field for jokes) and a camel. The other impressive thing was a balancing act (so convinced he was going to fall and die) by the twin of the lion tamer.

I am very glad to be back so things can get on with being normal. I didn’t read so much this time- though it was all french themed: Suite Française by Irène Némirovsky (which was amazing, though i was surprised by her plans for the future books), Jules and Jim by Henri-Pierre Roché (which is weird, slightly disturbing at times and ultimately just plain sad) and Germinal by Emile Zola which i haven’t yet finished because my father stole it off me and is reading it, but so far is amazing. Unfortunately, i know how it ends because i have seen the film(which i think is quite true to the book, and as i have said before i find the existance of Gérard Depardieu very reassuring) which is the case with too many good books because if my father hasn’t got time to reread a book he has to teach we end up watching the film (or watch it to see how much it has ruined the book).

I continued reading the Mitford letters, which made me think an awful lot about John F. Kennedy. I was happily reading thinking “oh how nice, Deborah is friends with JFK!” then i realised these letters were dated 1963 and that if i continued reading Kennedy was going to die. This also happens if i happen to see the footage of him getting shot (“oh no! Kennedy watch out!!!”) and i get rather distressed even though this happen 30 years before i was born. Later i was discussing it with my mother and she seemed rather upset that George Washington was dead. I have decided i get this weirdness from her (oh: people in my head are talking about George Washington and Clark Gable and whether or not they were actually giant wooden puppets…which is a long story) I also began to read Tess of the d’Urbevilles because i had nothing else to do (this quite ruined by french theme).

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Old Stuff

My room is clean. It is in this unusual state because i am off to France again tomorrow only this time with just my parents. Rawr. I rearranged some of the stuff on my wall, picked clothes off the floor, tried to shove some books into the shelve (a nearly impossible task) and tried to organise My Drawer. The capital letters are there because this is the draw where the truly personal stuff is. My old diaries, my ramblings on pieces of paper torn out of a shiny notepad (they are mainly dated, but otherwise you can tell vaguely when they were written due to what person i am obsessing over in them), postcards from places (only one actually from someone), a few photographs, my drawings, awful poetry, sometimes a book i’m reading (but only if i really like the book), a CD i don’t want to admit i own, badges i used to think were cool…

and this one short story i wrote but never finished where the characters where essentially different parts of me with (somewhat randomly) the names of people Zoë knows. The one exception to these rules was a character only referred to as “She” or sometimes “Steven’s wife”, this is because its written in first person and as she is the only person he truly loves he therefore does not need to specify who “She” is because to him thats the only woman that really exists. I showed some of my friends this story- i think they liked it, but it was just a tad weird..but i loved this story. I thought i had lost it forever. It is also important because i started writing it in my favourite notebook–filled with more drawings and poetry and song lyrics.

 My favourite of the lyrics i wrote was “Sock Puppets of Antarctica”, thus encompassing my love of sock puppets and the topic we were studying in geography at the time (Antarctica FTW). The idea was these sock puppets crawl across Antarctica in a long and perilous journey to their breeding ground, when they finally reach there they preform an amazing puppet show (different for each group of puppets) and then die with no other creature seeing this show and marvelling at its eerie beauty. Oh- the show is actually a breeding ritual which is how new puppets are born. I imagined the tune would be something like early Super Furry Animals (i know how pretentious that sounds but its true).

 I also had some SFA/Gruff Rhys fan girlness i really liked (unfortunately most of my photos of Gruff got ruined by rain leaking into my bad).  A double pages spread of SFA randomness was my artistic masterpiece, drawing of Candylion, drawing of Gruff drinking coffee from the picture on the Candylion album sleeve, a drawing of Frankie Fontaine in homage to the song ‘Hometown Unicorn’. He has Candylion ears because they were indented on that page from a previous drawing so i decided to add them in for the heck of it. Frankie Fontaine is a guy who thought he was abducted by aliens, which is a shame because he is kinda cute.

I know to anyone reading this that this stuff means nothing. No one cares about my hormonal teenage feelings, i don’t care about most of them anymore. But i do miss caring about things that much. Even really unimportant things or people i don’t know but randomly wanted to write/draw something about. For some reason this included 2 models, dealt with in different ways. I drew messages all over pictures of Adrianna Lima about being fake, being a whore, loneliness and the dark side of ambition (i’m sure she’s a nice person, i chose because her name is cool) but for Gia Carangi (another cool name) i stuck pictures of her over the lyrics to Pretty Woman with some random colouring in (maybe i treated her nicely because she’s dead or because i found some tasteful photographs of her, which i unfortunately can’t find any more).

So i’m going to try and fill up my second notebook. Its exactly the same kind as the last one and i got it ages ago. Though now its probably going to be filled with dedications to the indie bands Suga recommends to me (go check out: YELLE, The Alphites), probably Suga herself just to fulfil my promise of being her groupie and hopefully i will start drawing/writing/trying-to-rhyme-stuff-which-is-deep-and-meaningful again.

Floccinaucinihilipilification amongst other things…

I’m blogging because the song “I like Van Halen because My Sister says they’re Cool” by El Ten Eleven makes me feel like i should be having some movie style inspiration and grabbing my coat, yelling to my parents im going ‘out’, driving madly in my old yet funky car to make out with a nerdy guy who i have just realised is the love of my life, even if he does draw cartoons more than talk. This would be preferable to sitting around all day in dungarees like i did. They aren’t even my dungarees, i’m looking after them for Hannah. The highlight of my day was realising that most books fit perfectly in the front/chest pocket of these things. I also began reading Lady Chatterly’s Lover whilst drinking flat imitation cola and sitting on a broken swivel chair. I find it hard to read the random Derbyshire dialect as my mind is going “oh no! Missing letters! What is the world coming to?!”.

I am not having any inspiration. Sucktacular. Oh and apparently my dog has cancer and we’ve known for a while but no one remembered to tell me. My sweet beautiful Tess who i spend a lot of time insulting. When you look for suck, you find an awful lot of suck. I probably shouldn’t have read so many Siegfried Sassoon poems earlier. It is impossible to really try to write a meaningful blog listening to “I like You so much Better when You’re Naked” (I’m not sure why i randomly capitalised some letters…i like capital letters). Its also hard to be meaningful using the word “suck” which really just brings to mind The Emo Song (“it sucks because they play some of favourite songs like ‘stab my heart because i love you’, ‘rip apart my soul’ and of course ‘stabbity rip stab stab’…that was always my favourite part to sing).

The word “dividends” reminds me of “Short Skirt Long Jacket”…that was bugging me because the word is used in Lady Chatterly’s Lover. I also get annoyed when people repeat words in books…

Me: Huh…didn’t they use that word before? *flips around 100 pages back* (triumphant tone) Hah! They did! Like oh my god don’t they know Word has a thesaurus option? Hello people! *tosses hair*

Author: Hey! Maybe we are repeating words because the idea that word conveys is important! You obviously are not truly connecting with my characters!

Me: Like no way does anybody need to use the word “floccinaucinihilipilification” twice…or even once for that matter

Author: Like you even know what that means! You are listening to KISS whilst you type this!

Me: I would like to point out the song got stuck in my head whilst playing Guitar Hero 3

Author: Not like i would know what that guitar hero is being a bohemian author…

Me: What author even are you?

Author: Actually i’m a fake author, no real author would bother talking to you even in your own imagination…

Bleh. I could actually type imaginary dialogue all night. I like this fake author. Maybe he secretly is a real author! *cough* But that doesn’t matter as it is all imaginary…

(by the way…floccinaucinihilipilification means the act of declaring something worthless. I looked it up)

Warm and Fuzzy

So its nearly 2am (yet people are still on msn) and im blogging…i was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when i decided to put blue mascara in my hair because im going to wash it today anyway. Then blue mascara on my left eye, blue eyeshadow on the right, big red rings under both eyes, gold body glitter all over my face, dark lipstick and the word ‘rock’ on my cheek. There is now a towel in my bathroom with glitter all over it. It may look a bit weird. I often like to put random makeup on at night but tonight may havebeen influenced by repeatedly listening to ‘Talk Dirty to Me’ by Poison (thanks to scrubs. i’ve also been listening to The Incredible Moses Leroy and The Softlightes because of scrubs. seriously, i would listen to anything connected with John C. McGinley…who is apparently 49. Like oh my god he looks incredible though!).

I have spent most of my time doing/pretending to do my geography coursework. I am stuck. I want to call up my geography teacher and moan because he is the kind of person who probably would come over and help me in the name of Geography (quick! To the geography-mobile!). But even if i had the guts to do that, or even just his telephone number, he’s on his honeymoon. Bleh. When not ‘working’ im trying to find a hairstyle (i find typing that freaky like any minute i am going to whip out a pocket mirror and check to see if i have stray eyebrow hairs) i was thinking something asymmetrical (side parted, cut shorter on the left side in a kinda downwards..swoosh. But my hair is quite thick and wavy so i do this it will probably poof

I have met people! I met Imogen and Zoë! We ate pot noodles on pizza! I late slept over at Zoë’s and we watched all of The IT Crowd and asked meaningful questions like “how foody is food?” (food turned out to be as foody as a yogurt). And Jess (who i like because i don’t have to put dots over any letter in her name which makes the damn internet so slooow) and we watched Doctor Who (great, now i am freaking out about Blink…i hate nighttime).

I get all hyper around midnight, usually due to and ill-timed dose of caffeine. I finished reading Bel Ami (i wrote a huge rant about it but then my internet crashed and i can so not be bothered. Lets sum it up as: i loved it and would also like to watch a feminist’s face as she read it) and Running with Scissors. Whilst reading it i was thinking a) god this can’t be real and b) god i hope this isn’t real.

Homecoming

Back from holiday and have almost recovered thanks to several cups of tea, sneaking a few oreos and listening to Noah and The Whale’s album on myspace. Special thanks to Suga for getting me their CD (is it signed? oooh i hope so), she rocks and i now have to be her groupie for a year.

Before going away to France it was my hastily organised party. Which was weird- how many girls get together and do physical representations of Shakespeare’s sonnets and mini-versions of his plays (expertly read by Jess) for fun? We also watched allllll of Gone with The Wind (i love! so much! even if it is over 3 hours long!) and i forced people into watching The Princess Bride (i mouthed along to all the words…) and we also watched V for Vendetta for no real reason other than we love the bit when V is making breakfast whilst wearing a frilly apron (he looks surprisingly hot in it).

 France. Ate lots of good food (apparently my hair now smells of cheese?), slept a lot, attempted a fly genocide (failed unfortunately), swam (in pool and the river Tarn), noted geographical features (“oooh- look the steep sides of that v-shaped valley!” etc.), tried to drown my brothers in endless kayak vs. canoe wars (we almost broke the kayaks my continually ramming into each other, they were actually held together with scotch tape anyway), visited Albi cathedral (looks awful on the outside- very crazy gothic on the inside, went to Lourdes (got some holy water for jokes) which is so depressingly tacky, visited the Toulouse-Lautrec museum (which was awesome, though i became distracted by making up stories about my favourite paintings/prints) and the whole family read and read.

Books read by the Payne Family:

  • 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (on the whole, i thought it was awesome, though became confused by everyone having the same names etc.)
  • Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë (okay why have i never read this before? Pure genius, though i got really annoyed with the whole St John thing. The last words of the book should be about Jane and Rochester not that jackass!)
  • Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (okay- this house had very few good books so i just read this because its some kind of classic, enjoyable despite the horrible preaching)
  • Effi Briest by Fontane (meant to be amazing German literature- either it lost a lot in the translation or i am right in thinking it is just mediocre)
  • The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling (I’ve never actually read it before because i used to listen to it on tape so much when i was younger)
  • White Fang by Jack London (good if a little repetitive at times. I read it because its mentioned in Love in a Cold Climate according to the internet though i think its actually in the Pursuit of Love and my isn’t this a long bracket, Uncle Matthew says “I have only read one book in my life and that is ‘White Fang.’ It’s so frightfully good I’ve never bothered to read another”)
  • The World according to Clarkson by duh (they don’t say its by Jeremy Clarkson anywhere on the book. it was funny but i went around all day with his voice replacing mine in my mind)
  • The Poetry of Ovid by Ovid suprisingly enough (all his poems on Love, very good actually)
  • The Mitfords: Letters between Six Sisters edited by Charlotte Mosley (unfinished because it is long and I don’t feel the need to read it all in one go, you can just dip in and out)
  • Moby Dick by Herman Melville (unfinished as we left that house)
  • The Brothers Karamzov by Dostoevsky (unfinished because its too bloody long and my father, the person reading it, thinks Dostoevsky isn’t as interesting to read as Tolstoy. The rest of the family longs to see what amazing works of literature he comes up with)
  • The Short Stories of D.H Laurence (the H stands for Herbert!? so disappointed)
  • Dubliners by James Joyce
  • Collected Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald
  • Middlemarch by George Eliot (which took forever for my brother to read)
  • More? I am not sure. My mother was reading a few books which i do not remember the names of.

On the last day we decided to drive through Paris and go to the Musée d’Orsay (the one which used to be a railway and has that awesome clock) which we rushed through but was fun anyway. I probably should have been more excited to go into Paris, but it was a Sunday and the streets were deserted and the day was so grey so it looked surprisingly drab despite the beautiful buildings etc.

It is summer. England is all horrible. But at the same time amazingly amazing amazing even if i actually do not do anything this summer but sit at home and read or just lie about in bed (people in my head: in a cafe discussing fencing and pretending to be characters from Bel Ami which i have just started reading) because i just felt so happy to be home last night/early this morning.

(Please note: not actually true will probably tire of doing nothing at around 4pm tomorrow)