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They'll pour vodka on your bones / and they'll call it romantic / how fucking romantic / and everything is just disgusting

2013-05-14 ~ 10:56 p.m.

I got the feedback on the first chapter of my dissertation but I've not dared to read it yet. I'll let it marinade for a couple of days. I already have changes to make, and once I've worked out what I actually want to say I'll doubtless fillet it. Since then I've been reading about masculinity and war and militarism in early 20th century Germany, with the conflict between the old-style aristocrat who was equally at home on the dancefloor and battlefield; the new breed of tough brutal professionals who regarded the aristocrats as useless gays; and the flying aces with their dandyish individualism, hunting metaphors, and casual cool.

I've been trying to do my creative writing exercise of writing something every day, whether a very short story or just a paragraph. I did miss out Saturday 11th. It's good to be doing this, and proving I can still write interesting paragraphs (this diary not withstanding). The problem lately for me has been producing whole stories, though, so maybe after this month there should be more of a focus.

New album by The Indelicates; it just can't match the genius of their debut, especially as the first track sounds like Muse and the second track is called Pubes. But it gets a bit more sensible after that. Everything Is Just Disgusting is nice even if it goes on a bit. The album ends in style with the rather sweet Dovahkiin (apparently a Skyrim reference) with sneered lyrics like: "You've got boring unlovely depression. It blunts you and hobbles your will. It makes you feel sick to see these beautiful pricks build careers being beautifully ill. They flit and they flutter about you. They're offended and never ashamed. And everything's shit and this shithole called Britain takes your sickness in place of your name."

I tweeted excitedly on discovering the album and then listened to first track and tweeted less excitedly; the Indelicates' Twitter retweeted my first tweet but I don't know if they read the second. Also on pointless communication technology, I've signed up for snapchat but only know one person on it.

Last weekend I didn't do an awful lot of anything. A broad summary would indicate these areas:
1. Playing poker, coming third, despite not getting any very good hands (I can't remember anything more memorable than 2 pairs.)
2. Some cooking on Friday involving colourful vegetables. But not much cooking after that.
3. A fair bit more Parks and Recreation (I'm now caught up with BBC4 though, so my diet of Amy Poehler will henceforth be thinner.)
4. Small amounts of studying, although none of it relates to the core concerns of what I have to write in the next month.
5. A little light emailing and quite a bit of pottering around on the internet.
6. Not even watching Doctor Who.
7. Various food shopping that didn't significantly increase my supplies of edibles, although I do have baby corn and Japanese mixed chilli powder.
8. Watching Friends and Buffy. Just as I was about to study on Sunday, the 2-parter where Buffy and Angel were doing the wild thing and then Buffy obtained a very phallic grenade launcher was on.
9. I walked home 3 miles after the poker so that was my exercise for the weekend.

Work is once again waiting on other people to comment on documents and make decisions.

The above does not seem very exciting. And it was supposed to be a packed later-week with quiz Thursday and dodgy Clash tribute band in my mate's local pub on Friday, but sadly no more. Still, EEEUUUUUUROVISION on Saturday. Norway to win!

I also heard this evening from my stepmother that her friend she's known since she was 18 who's been strugging with cancer for several years is now left with about a week to go. (It's my stepmother's birthday in 10 days.) I got free tickets to T In The Park last year because she was too ill to go, but then she seemed to recover a bit. I'll stop here.

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