Thursday, 11 June 2009

Fuck You, Thursday

Today my brain is a bastard cunt of a snorting, rearing horse, steaming and shitting and spitting its bit and point blank refusing to jump any of the quite reasonably low fences I have put before it. I’ve got deadlines coming out of my arse and all I can do is stare at the screen wearing the same uncomprehending gape that I normally reserve for watching Hollyoaks (for our overseas buddies, Hollyoaks is a witless and torturously long-running teen soap about a troupe of lacquered moon-calves running amok in a pretend town near Chester). There are lots of things I could be doing – I have curtains to sew and a bookshelf to fix after it collapsed under the weight of tacky thrillers and Fanny Cradock, and then there’s this filthy squat of a house that could do with either decontaminating or razing to the ground. Instead I am writing this, drawing succour as though from a last cigarette, before I lapse into the only state possible today, one of lying prone beneath the bed muttering “They shoot horses, don’t they?”

9 comments:

  1. Fridays are cool though.

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  2. me tooo!! I feel like a critic, or a eunuch in a whorehouse, nothing but NOTHING is working, impotence is a really awesome feeling!! its good to know im not alone, cheer up, lets shoot horses :D

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  3. Hang on...Hollyoaks is pretend?!? Fuck, shit! Teen soap? I thought it was that oh-so-loved medium, docu-drama. That must be why that travel agent looked at me funny when I tried to book...

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  4. It's off to the glue factory with you!

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  5. sp, i love how you just turned a shitty boring thursday into a funny, word-happy rant. something out of nothing: that's art, right? or rat, at least.

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  6. Everything okay? Have you recovered?

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  7. Hello possums, thank you all for coming. I've been away attending to sundry academic bollocks for a while, but now I am back, armed with a trident for the killing of recalcitrant horses and artistic rats, reeking of Bostick and with the scalps of the whole cast of Hollyoaks tucked into my garters. Business as usual. xxx

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  8. And there's another Thursday coming right up! You can never get rid of the things :)

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