Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Knitting and Safety

Sat here knitting, writing, watching bad yet good telly I am surprised at how well I multitask. It's like my brain is so full of energy and noise that the only way I can concentrate on what I need to get done is to channel all the excess into other outlets until nothing is heard but the history noise. Slowly but surely I'm typing the words, knitting good rows and learning about lives I never lead.

Knitting is so soft and natural to me. It takes up my hands and fills both of them. I've been experimenting with crocheting, and the spinning with one hand, reaching in and out of chains drips slowly out my fingers. It's both frustrating and fascinating. I'm not sure I like the dense fabric of it much. I think knitting will always be my go to craft.

Some thing in me wants to knit primeval simple warm things to look after people. Blankets for babies, rugs for floors, simple sweaters for my friends to wrap them in my love always. I want to loop tales with hopes and prayers and make smiles. If only I had the money for yarn.

Knitting and Safety

She returns hurtling at a thousand miles of an hour…

Many thanks to my startling scribe, Toddy. He has provided this blog with the most beautiful writing it has seen for a while. I salute his eloquence and his inspiring style. Here's to many more guest posts by him when I am otherwise occupied or out of commission.

I broke my arm. I fell off a balance board on to my right side really heavily on New Years. I swear I hadn't had an alcoholic beverage. It was at the start of my second party of the evening. It seemed fine. Then it swelled up overnight, and Tom took me to casualty on New Years Day. We were there for five hours. He must love me.

Chaos and mayhem ensued. I broke it at the worst possible time. I was half way through essay writing period. I had an exam to sit and a gobbet to translate. I did everything I could. I went to the uni. I got extensions, I petitioned for scribes to help me get things in for the deadlines. Unfortunately, even though I pay lots of money to go to this uni, my department refused to pay for any other help except a scribe for my exam. The scribe was appalling. She'd never done it before and could only type with two fingers. She clearly wasn't an arts scholar as she couldn't spell simple biblical names. Dictating to a scribe is disconcerting enough, let alone under exam conditions.

I'm not moaning that much. I was grateful for the help I did get, but considering my fees, and how students on other courses pay the same for far more contact hours, practicals and field trips, I feel a little bit of ill will is allowed. What was even more astonishing is the way my friends and family rallied around me. Many people have sat and typed for me, helped me revised, cooked for me, cleaned for me, organized and planned for me and looked after me and listened to me moan. Peter, Toddy, Yellow, Spanky, Dave, Matt, Cecil, Hannah, Dad, all the chaplaincy people, my grandparents and Tom. Thank you. Thank you for helping. I feel like I can get through this. Oh and anyone else I've not thanked.

One essay is done. The other one is half way there, and I will write more since I seem to be in a writing mood. Then next week sees me writing my gobbet. The weeks have flown away from me. I have a dinner party to cook for this weekend. Then on the 5^th I have an interview at UCL for their MA in Museums Studies. I'm extremely nervous. Extremely nervous. I have no idea what they will ask. The guy interview me literally wrote the text book so I am going to swot up on that. Growing up scares me somewhat. I just want to get through this last term, write an interesting dissertation, and start finding myself again. What a cliché ? University has been killing me in someways, as I feel like I have no time to do creative things, the things that I enjoy the most and make me happiest.

When I try to explain this to people, they quite often tell me that I just need to find a proper job and make some money. I know little shreds of me will die if I have to do that. I live frugally now, and won't need much more money once uni is over. I want to go to work smiling as often as possible and being satisfied with what I do. My mum and dad do that quite often. I'm a realist, I know it can't happen all the time, but I know that their jobs fulfill them. That's all I want.

Picture and more lightweight fluff to come when I have it. All I have today is words about confusion.

She returns hurtling at a thousand miles of an hour…

Picture and more lightweight fluff to come when I have it. All I have today is words about confusion.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

T in the Bookshop

"This is what I imagined university would be like".

That's what Alex said yesterday when she, Tom, John and I spent a clear
afternoon sitting in the cafe / second-hand bookshop down Portswood Road.

We started in the science fiction section * (which includes fantasy,
rousing the ire of Tom...) and proceded to general fiction, crime,
cookery, sport and music. Of course we looked at the naughty ones -
"The Fuck Up", "Eff Off", "French Tarts"... and the big book on
asparagus, with a very special diagram.

I had to get on with my drawing practice, so I did some pencil
scratchings that looked a bit like Alex and a bit like Sitting Bull.
Hmm. Then she drew me. The neck was too long, but I looked a bit like
Jonathan Richman **, and Alex is much better at it than I am.

So we drank coffee and chocolate, and wandered out after a while, to buy
fancy cupcakes. This will be repeated.

On the way we passed a rather fun chestnut tree with spiky nuts hanging
all over it.

Today I've spent far too long on Bleep, Boomkat and Tigersushi.
Soon all will know that Pingipung blows the brass. ***

I've still been working at the 8-bit sewing. Yes, it's the computery
effect, but in cross-stitch. Wahey. Something like "quixotic", I think.

Find Dave and the Quiz a New Home.
Jones wants a St Trinian's theme next Thursday. The rest of us aren't
too sure. I could attempt a St. Custard's look, but I think we need
more group photos like this one of King Oliver's Creole Jazz Band. It'd
be most apt.

That's all for now.

* I want to write a thesis / make an exhibition / anything, really...
about the cover art of science fiction paperbacks.

** On the subject of lanky men dancing, here's some more

*** Okay, so I got the Blue Harvest dvd too.

T in the Bookshop

"This is what I imagined university would be like".

That's what Alex said yesterday when she, Tom, John and I spent a clear
afternoon sitting in the cafe / second-hand bookshop down Portswood Road.

So we drank coffee and chocolate, and wandered out after a while, to buy
fancy cupcakes. This will be repeated.

On the way we passed a rather fun chestnut tree with spiky nuts hanging
all over it.

Today I've spent far too long on Bleep, Boomkat and Tigersushi.
Soon all will know that Pingipung blows the brass. ***

I've still been working at the 8-bit sewing. Yes, it's the computery
effect, but in cross-stitch. Wahey. Something like "quixotic", I think.

That's all for now.

* I want to write a thesis / make an exhibition / anything, really...
about the cover art of science fiction paperbacks.

** On the subject of lanky men dancing, here's some more

*** Okay, so I got the Blue Harvest dvd too.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

An Amanuensis Writes

Hi. It's still me, in place of Alex. I haven't written for a fortnight and I can't flow in prose
tonight, so here are some lists. Maybe one day I'll give you pictures. Maybe soon Alex will be
back. Here goes:

Things that Alex is doing:
* single-handedly whipping everyone up into a frenzy of dancing, dressing-up, shopping, opera and
puddings.
* exams, fool

Art activity since last time:
* wallpaper jigsaws
* portrait-drawing
* 8-bit sewing

Reasons why I'm often tired:
* 8-bit sewing
* bed at 4.30; up again at 8
* walking to Tesco at 2am
* swimming lots for the first time in months
* generally flinging myself around on the bicycle

Next projects:
* discover the art of petits-fours. This may involve...
http://www.tinyliving.com/store/product/1877/tiny-frying-pan/
* search the world for typewriter ribbons
* invade the forest with John

Activities in my office so far this week:
* carrot-throwing
* dog-wrestling
* rump-slapping
- and that's just... the fun bits.
Oh, and the sweat-inducing "Jump Around" ringtone!!!!

Three particularly enigmatic confections:
* lollipops
* rolos
* mars bars

List of music that I have enjoyed a lot in recent days:
* albums:
The Blow "Paper Television"
Cornelius "Sensuous"
Edu Lobo "Cantiga De Longe"
Hefner "The Fidelity Wars"
Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood "Nancy And Lee"
* songs:
Belle & Sebastian "I'm Waking Up To Us"
Cub "New York City"
Heavenly "Shallow"
Herman Dune "Song Of Samuel"
Konono No. 1 "Paradiso"
Leonard Cohen "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye"
Pelle Carlberg "Clever Girls"
Scott Walker "My Death" / "Next"
The Vaselines "Jesus Wants Me For A Sunbeam"
* people:
Alice Coltrane, Freddie Mercury, the Lucksmiths, Tom Ze

Now for the pub.
Ya get me?
T

An Amanuensis Writes

Things that Alex is doing:
* single-handedly whipping everyone up into a frenzy of dancing, dressing-up, shopping, opera and
puddings.
* exams, fool

Art activity since last time:
* wallpaper jigsaws
* portrait-drawing
* 8-bit sewing

Reasons why I'm often tired:
* 8-bit sewing
* bed at 4.30; up again at 8
* walking to Tesco at 2am
* swimming lots for the first time in months
* generally flinging myself around on the bicycle

Activities in my office so far this week:
* carrot-throwing
* dog-wrestling
* rump-slapping
- and that's just... the fun bits.
Oh, and the sweat-inducing "Jump Around" ringtone!!!!

Three particularly enigmatic confections:
* lollipops
* rolos
* mars bars

Now for the pub.
Ya get me?
T

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

This Is Not Alex

Alex Jones is still... unavailable... and I realise I didn't tell you why.
I am Alex's internet... representative... "T". I've had some joyously diverting times and, now
that I'm the daddy here, I can tell you all about them.
The Jones family party took us late into Saturday night (including the song, of course). We
stuffed ourselves, played the best party games and did some particularly photogenic dancing.
Sunday was slow. I ended up at the House Of The Yellow Cushion, drinking Bailey's and watching
Family Guy till far too late.
Last night at the Curry House we fondid (a lot. Beef in oil; most things in cheese; marshmallows
and giant strawberries in chocolate), watched Black Books & Bill Bailey and said words beginning
with P. It got late. I had little sleep (at least, in bed), but a deliciously late morning (ie.
in at the rakish time of 8.40). Work involved the silent undressing of a Christmas tree; a lot of
Earl Grey and some other things that I won't tell you about just yet.
My painting now won't be needed for three weeks and I must do something different for this Sunday.
That will take time. I'm making cakes too. I'm making anything that will use up my superfluity
of treacle.
As a result of last night I am the subject of a Facebook application. Someone said I'm "quietly
awesome" (not "arsesome", treacherous fingers).
I went on an odyssey to Regent's Park to return a blackboard to a cats' home; and then took lots
of wallpaper samples from Wickes, thinking that there must be some artistic use for them. What I
actually bought was a dozen rolls of gaffer tape.
This evening SCM were to go bowling with the Atheist Society. Tom didn't get my text asking about
a lift. I went to Chaplaincy and found that I'd just missed the motor party. I walked home very
quickly, girded up my bicycle and rode very quickly to the bowling place, which, this year, is
called "Tenpin". Tebourba Way knackered my shoulders. We had fun and good company, although I
did some weird bowling stance and Helen kept laughing at me. I think Jens won over all. After a
while I went to leave. It was raining. I went back in to button up everything that could be
upbuttoned, in the absence of anything waterproof, and left. I had a flat tyre. Now, I don't
know if the Millbrook Pixies had paid a visit, or if I'd run over... one of them with their sharp
pointy hats... and I had to replace the other tyre only last week... but, despite Tom's pump
action, I'd have to walk home. But no: Charlie gave me a lift. Now I'm in at an almost-sensible
time and have not gone to Let's Kill Disco (http://www.letskilldisco.com/) to get Jupped up. Must
go next time.
Now: sleep.

This Is Not Alex

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Guest Entry

Dear Reader,

you may, of late, have wondered at the absence of any new posts from your muse, Alex Jones.

I am come to tell you that Alex cannot make any entries this week. You will hear the reason in
time, but I shall tell you only that, on this occasion, no needles were mispositioned.

While that lady labours at an essay on Elephantine women and ancient Jewish marriage law, I am
your temporary host for a variation in the paths that you traverse on these pages. There shall be
no discussion of knitting or boyfriends (excepting a note of respect to the hospitable Tom) ...
but of what shall we talk? This day bears for me stuffed peppers, a splash of the ocean and a
sufficiency (not far off a surfeit - as if such a thing were possible) of crumpet.

The stuffed peppers are for the Jones family party tonight. There shall be dancing. Peppers
shall be stuffed from within and from without. They're really quite addictive. Still, I can't
forget the chocolate pudding that Miss Jones makes. It would knock your mum into a cocked hat.

The ocean pounced at me this afternoon and my feet are still drying. I had never visited Hurst
Castle and the spit at Keyhaven. O woe. It's remarkable. The blusters of wind, the chops of sea
and the graveness of the heavens enclosed me, as I stalked the stones under the guidance of the
excellent Peter.

Crumpets are the food of those aspiring to greatness in the coming year. And of me. They
stustain me. I stayed up all night painting ionic columns and cockle-shells in an orgiastic
explosion of psychedelic pastiche.

Now I must depart this electronical filigree, this gauzy sheet of ether, and accept the
hospitality of the terrific (in all ways) Alexandra. May she return to you soon.

Thoughts are, of course, with our friend Mel.

Guest Entry

Dear Reader,

you may, of late, have wondered at the absence of any new posts from your muse, Alex Jones.

I am come to tell you that Alex cannot make any entries this week. You will hear the reason in
time, but I shall tell you only that, on this occasion, no needles were mispositioned.

Now I must depart this electronical filigree, this gauzy sheet of ether, and accept the
hospitality of the terrific (in all ways) Alexandra. May she return to you soon.

Thoughts are, of course, with our friend Mel.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Of course, I have an essay to write, so I'm blogging...

...What did you expect?

I have nearly finished compiling my bibliography for this beastly essay, which seems to take as long as the actual writing process will.

Christmas was had. I wasn't feeling especially festive this year at all. I can see the signs of last year's January black dog reoccurring. This was not helped with my rents asking questions about my future that I can't answer. I have no idea what's happenning with the chaplaincy assistants job, I don't know which master course I'm going to be on, and no, I don't know where I will be living come next July. It just made me panic more. Christmas eve and Boxing day were horrid little episodes where I tried to stop myself from crying all the time, and I had the anxious knot on my chest like I couldn't breathe. The only time it lifted was at Midnight Communion, where Dad and I had our yearly competition to see who could sing the loudest. I wish I knew the proper soprano or alto parts to complement all the parts Dad learnt when he was in the choir. It did sound lovely.

I managed to be on my best behaviour on Christmas Day, being first down, and surprisingly cheery. This is most likely to do with the lovely soppy texts Tom was sending me on Christmas Eve. They reminded me that there's more to live for that mere career things. Soon I shall renounce it all and be the spinning weaving painting artist on a farm somewhere I've always wanted to be. With some sheeps. And a Tom. Hopefully. Anyway, the Day itself went well, I curled up in front of my Auntie and Uncle's new stove in their new living, having decamped there from my Gran's for lunch. I played with babies and Barbies and was throughly gifted. My favourite presents were the awesome snuggly dressing gown from my rents, the red pijamas from my grandparents,( *) the anime picture of me and my sister's the littlest sister drew, and the fleecy hoodie the next sister down gave me. When we had finished eating the traditional turkey et all I enjoyed a phone call all the way from France from Tom, despite loosing the signal out in the sticks every five minutes and then went back to my Gran's to watch Love Actually. Which I did in my snuggly dressing gown, and managed to finish Tom's gloves. They are now wrapped up and in his stocking.

Getting back to mine last night was a relief, as the heat and manic-ness at my Gran's was making me feel a bit loopy. I had a huge cry and snotted into lots of hankies. I also tried to find a home for all my new stuff, and assembled the big mirror my rents had also bought me. Really I wanted to phone Tom and cry at him, but I thought that would make me a little too dependant on him, and probably make him feel miserable too. So I didn't. I tried not to think about my essay, had an earlish night for me, and got some good sleep.

Today I was out of bed by ten, went shopping for goodies with Mr. Hunt, my new honourary brother, and have sat here for the rest of the day, collating information. That sounds terribly productive, n'eh? I hope so. I actually feel like I'm in the position to write something, and blogging this has got me into the typing mood, which is what I hoped it would do. Please please please let me have written 2000 words by the time I go to bed tonight. And then I will write 2000 tomorrow. Before the lovely Tom comes home. Then I get to do Christmas with him.

Oh the lovely Tom. It's been very nice this season of talking to family to be able to talk about lovely things I've done with this lovely man. It's nice to be with someone who seems to actually want me around, just as I am. *does a few carthwheels in her head because she can't do them in real life*

* the red pjs are size 8 - 10 and they fit me. They may be of the cotton jersey variety, and slightly stretchy, but fitting into them brings me an insubordiate amount of joy. Must remember to do another 100 sit ups tonight. When I have written 2000 words.

Of course, I have an essay to write, so I'm blogging...

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Not swimming today

Today is one of those days. I'm having a bad day. When I don't feel like I can swim and am slowly drowning inside my own head. Everything is painfully slow and I keep sleeping randomly. My whole body aches. Working happens in tiny fits and starts.

I feel disgusting.

Disgusting and lazy.

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this. I suppose I'm trying to motivate myself. Put down somehow how I feel and read back to myself and see how stupid I sound and just pick myself up and get on with it.

Just get on with it Alex. You can't afford to do this anymore.

Not swimming today

Where are we?

I spent this morning running around Shirley, getting lost, using the wonders of the mobile to get Toddy to direct me to the Sorting Office, and finally picking up a parcel for Tom before it got returned to sender due to him being in France.
I am supposed to be finishing my reading before commencing the 4000 word beast of an essay on the Elephantine community of the 5th BCE in Egypt of Jewish mercenaries. Any takers to do it for me?

Mentally I'm a bit all over the place at the moment. I think I just want to hibernate.

Tom is not here. Which is very strange as the last few weeks we have been nearly inseperable. My housemate commented last night how impressed he was that Tom and I do work in each other's company and generally look out for each other. I was chuffed Pinstripe had noticed. I feel a little bit like I've lost my shadow or my reflection. Still it does give me a chance to finish wrapping his Christmas presents which you cannot do if someone's around cooking you gorgeous roast lamb or whisking you away for weekends in the countryside.

Of which we have done both recently. We stayed with his mum in a village near Andover and tramped through muddy woods with dogs in wellies, and stayed up late playing Elite Cow, the dairy cow breeding game that's fun for all the family. You purchase sperm rings for £100 a pop and then try and breed the Elite Cow of the title. Hilarious, a bit like Monopoly with cattle. It was all very cosy, and fun to help him out clearing out his childhood things, reading his school reports and the like.

The essay writing sucks when everyone else around you is being festive. I escaped home to go to the dentist and to go carolling with my family and friends. We had one very merry (read tipsy) old gent come out, and conduct us through "Hark.." and quiz us on who wrote the lyrics and music. Other than that I was chuffed as Mum had made me a Mrs Christmas cape and given me my first Christmas badge to pin on it. I'm a real grown up lady now! Now to make the beautiful red full skirted dress to wear with it...

I shall leave you with some pictures of various things....