COMIC: Shit’s getting real.
REAL LIFE: Fuckery’s getting really entirely too fucking real.
. . . Holy fucking shit. That’s all I’m saying right now.
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Archive for January, 2012
8 items.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled episode of Doctors- Er, comic.
Thanks for your patience. I had some time to rest, catch up with things, do a bit of yogic breathing and am now ready to get back into the proverbial game . . . Whatever that game be. I hope its croquet, personally. You don’t have to be tall to play croquet.
I have finished I, Claudius and in retrospect, I have to stay it’s a rather staggering read. The history of Ancient Rome in particular is often stranger than fiction. As such, the combination of subject matter and damn good writing make for something of a literary triumph. Granted, it may not prove so enthralling if the readers hasn’t at least a passing fancy for Roman history . . . I think I mentioned that the beginning was tres lourde with exposition . . . The further I got into the book, however, the harder it was to put down and it left a profound impact. I can definitely see why it is regarded as a pillar of historical fiction.
. . . On the other prong, I’m now watching the BBC miniseries that was based on the book and I can’t help wondering if dear John Hurt is turning over in his (robert) grave. I don’t mind admitting I have seen a number of men in drag and . . . Well, surely he must realise that that gold eyeshadow did not suit him any more than that . . . bikini . . . thing . . . If ever he were to encounter Patrick Swayze in the afterlife, perhaps Mr. Swayze could give him a few pointers . . . He wasn’t half bad in To Wong Foo, after all.
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. . . I often wonder if R. listens to himself as he talks. Perhaps if he recorded himself, gave it to those fabbity Autotune The News, chaps . . . Also, I WILL NOT BE UPDATING ON MONDAY. Regular updates resume next Friday, the 27th.
Had a marv day out with the Carlea. Hummus, Falafel, stuffed grape leaves and copious amounts of flatbread were consumed, I played shadow to Carlea at her place of work, helped out where I could, engaged in my first ever game of Apples to Apples alongside her, her coworker, and a wee lad with a penchant for singing GaGa (and I lost magnificently), then drove home . . . Which was on the very edge of wee-my-pants terrifying. Merging sets my teeth on edge, and particularly so at night (in which case, my teeth wobble precariously on said edge), particularly so when toerags in pickup trucks decide that they would sooner up the likelyhood of making road casserole of my poor little car than let me in (in which case my teeth plummet screaming into the abyss). At Carlea’s house, however, there was tea and a delicious dinner with her hilarious family, so all ended very well indeed.
And as for the rest of the week-end, I’m a’jaunting off to Sully’s again for further assistance on this second job I have taken up, converting books to eBook format.
On a final note, I must say that I have been hellaciously busy, distressed and frustrated these past two weeks and my time/energy for this comics grows more and more scant by the second, hence the aforementioned delay. Things will even out soon, I’m sure. I’ll see you lot lot on Friday! Stay warm and beware of pickup trucks.
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I don’t have the energy to blog. I feel rather awful, quite frankly.
On a positive note, I’ve been listening to Robert Sapolsky’s lectures on human behaviour throughout the week-end, and they are simply amazing. Want to learn something? Give it a go.
. . . I want to become the male Jane Goodall and go study bonobo chimps. I hear they play wonderful guitar music and sing oh so soulfully . . .
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. . . Holy trousers and fresh hell, I nearly missed today’s update! I’ve been so busy and running about so much that my backside is aflame and in tatters and blowing in the breeze. Honestly. Sorry for updating so late . . . And for that unattractive mental image.
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. . . I, Claudius is pretty good so far, but these first chapters are reading like the flippin’ Bible . . . This bloke begot that chap, this woman betrayed him, they had a baker’s half dozen kids and their names were thus . . . It takes a while to get one’s ducks in a row, reading this’un, but it does have its moments. I am going to have to start using the term ‘faster than asparagus boils’ in conversation.
After this, I really must read The Hunger Games, which I was such a tool as to leave off of my list. Not only are they allegedly quite good, but I think they’ll be a sorbet after a cheescake, if you follow the dessert-related metaphor I am professing.
That’s all, foo-weee . . .
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I, on the contrary, have a behemothtonne which I would like to write about. Fasten your safety belts, place those trays into the upright and locked position and keep firm hold of your buttocks. The topics shall be many and the words shall be anything but parsimonious . . . This is, as they say, The Long Blog’s Journey Into Post.
. . . Oh all right, so it won’t be as long as all that. Leastwise I shall endaevour with every fibre of endaevourosity within me to keep it as short as possible.
So, I had a spankingly, corking good new year’s eve/morning with my lovely-as-always K. and her gorgey mates. Sully, ever gracious, was kind enough to welcome my buttloaf into her home yet again, where we were joined by Morgan. Pancakes were made, poker was played, hurrahs were hoorayed and no one was dismayed.
I lost wretchedly! It was marvelous! 
We also exchanged holiday gifts and they were fab, to say the utterly least. I now have a CD full of marvy music, a pretty, blue-black spicebush swallowtail butterfly in a shadow box from Sully and have already devoured with gusto the entirety of the box of orgasmic cupcakes from Morgan. K. has given me far too many fabbity presents to name, and all three have made significant contributions to the Ru Surgery Fund, which I could not be more grateful for . . . My poor little nubcat has lesions on his gums and will have to have most, if not all of his teeth extracted . . . it’s going to be an expencive procedure, one which I will be hard pressed to afford. My fab mates coming together to help me out on this touched me so much that I almost started crying . . . Fortunately, I managed to hold it together, lest my nose start running and the evening be ruined . . . Or at least made a great deal less attractive. Seriously though, Sully, Morgan, Kate, thank you . . . You are friends of the highest calibre, so you are.
Also worth mentioning, my K. and I have been to see another play . . . And suffice it to say, our mutual obsession with Ancient Rome was nothing short of spurred into a hot, flaming lusty ball of . . . Er, well . . . I was going to make a reference to the chariot of Apollo (Pheobus), but it seems I am not clever enough. ALAS.
After New Year’s, I met up with Carlea and in addition to the usual, we did some shopping . . . She has shown me a new shop for the selling of used books and I must confess, this is a frighteningly dangerous place . . . I walked out with a stack like one could anchor a boat with . . . My To-Read stack now towers as follows;
I, Claudius by Robert Graves
Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathon Swift
Eighteenth Century French Readings by Henry Holt
Great Expectations and Other Collected Works by Charles Dickens
When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson
The Maiden King by Robert Bly and Marion Woodman
The Last Days of Pompeii by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Jesus Was A Liberal by Jerry Wilde
Toynbee In Elysium by Myra Buttle
The Element by Ken Robinson
Les Fleurs De Mal and other collected poems by Charles Baudelaire
Confucius by Ezra Pound
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Trainspotting, Ecstasy, The Acid House, and Maribou Stork Nightmare by Irvine Welsh
Pleasure Bound by Deborah Lutz
The Fall of a Titan by Igor Gouzenko
Collected Works of HP Lovecraft
Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens
Many I have already read in full or in part and am simply revisiting. Others are new adventures in the works. Either way I am so excited I could pee! . . . So yer. I need to keep myself AWAY from that bookstore for a while, in summation.
As for resolutions, I have many, but at the forefront of it all, and this is going to sound a bit pathetic, I am sure . . . I confess, I spend a great deal of my waking hours feeling guilty for whatever reason and afraid of things I oughtn’t be . . . More often than not, I feel like a burden and a disappointment. My main goal for this year will be to work toward making positive, constructive decisions that will get at the root of these anxieties . . . And by writing about it here, I’ll be forced to hold myself to that! SO THERE.
On a far lighter note, I hope this first week of the New Year has treated everyone quite goldenly thus far! Let’s all take care and make it a fabbity one, shall we? 
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I am late. LATE. Woe is me . . . I never seem to have time for anything as of late. Will write a legit blog laterer. For now, I have MORE things to doooaghlaghlaghlaghl . . .!
. . . AT ANY RATE, Happy New Year’s, you lot! Hope the hangovers have ebbed mercifully
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