Putting My Foot Down
Mood:  rushed
Now Playing: the neighbor's TV below us
I will not disappear from this blog all together. I need to go to sleep now...having my ears cleaned tomorrow morning...

E.

What's black and white and has 5165 words?
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Elisabeth doing the dishes
My dissertation, silly. 51% done. I really, really wanted to make a joke about passing the 1/2 way line and leaving dissertation hell for dissertation purgatory but I think that I only get to enter that fantastic place once I've handed the mo-fo in and wait to see in the profs have the common sense to give me a big fat 'F.'

In celebration of this mile (mill?) stone, here's a totally random section of my non-proofread little freakazoid:

"...possibly, and even heavier hand saying ?I don?t know what I believe but this is what I?ve done,? the spectator is no longer being talked down to, being told to buy whatever snake oil is being offered and instead left to her own devices.

Specifically, Barker does this by incorporating a number of juxtapositions vis-a-vis what the humanist theatre would have: Poetry and metaphor instead of accessible meaning; psychological unreliability instead of recognizable human types or political stereotypes with value; complex syntax instead of naturalism or realism; moments instead of goals; non-therapeutic instead of..."

(Yeah, I know it's egocentric gloating, but whatever...)

PS- This word count thing is really getting to me. I feel like Papillon in solitary confinement. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. And when I get to that magical number of 10,000 - 14,000, I'll fall over.

Burnout Factor 5
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: The music of Elisabeth preparing spicy potatoes...YUM!
The yob is out with his 'mate,' drinking beer and driving his remote control mini cooper around the parking lot. I can only assume the screaming will commence shortly.

Burnout factor 5 today - not much writing got done so that means that I don't get any wine tonight. Sucky. Instead I get to do schoolwork. Got to push out 1000 words before bed. I bet Papillon never had to deal with this shit.

Ah well, at least my lovely has taken pity on me and is cooking yummy, yummy potatoes and grilled cheese with egg, tomato & onion. If there's egg, tomato & onion in it, does it still count as grilled cheese? It's the answer to such existential questions as these that true dissertations should be written on, not flakey things like 'theatre,' where it's spelled 're' even though it sounds like its 'er.' I blame the French. They're so elitest.

Gotta go - The rosemary is rolling across the floor and the old James Bond fight music in being played by the BBC. God bless those wacky Brits.

Buh?
Mood:  spacey
Stephen here, 40% sane, losin? hair, goin? grey.

There must be some weird thing going on with me ? as my life becomes dedicated to craving yummy, yummy potatoes and writing about absolutely modern, offensive for the sake of being offensive & elitist things, I?m really getting into old movies. I totally bought into On Golden Pond (Well, it was a play, originally) and Papillon was totally cool. Steve McQueen is the baddest movie mo-fo since Charles Bronson in Once Upon a Time in the West. John, if you?re out there, the book is on my immediate reading list once this dissertation thingy?s gone the way of the dodo.

Otherwise, life goes on, wine makes it worth living and, come September 1st, I won?t be thinking about a single? damn? thing. (Scholastically that is) for, well, for forever if things go as planned

PS ? Just got around to seeing the end of Papillon and it S.U.C.K.E.D. Talk about a cop out ? the film was already 2.5 hours long and they couldn?t bother to wrap up? 5 more minutes would have sufficed! Now I really do have to read the book.

Stephen in Dissertation Hell

26% done = 26% sane
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Trains, trains, always the damn trains!
Ugh.
I don't know if I should keep blogging while I'm writing my dissertation. This might become a record of my complete mental breakdown or whatever's the opposite of a breakdown, I don't know.
Elisabeth's at rehearsal and I can't wait 'till I've handed this blankety-blank thing in so I can get drunk. Except I can't because I've got a big Job Interview at 10:45AM the next day.
Oops I said too much. ... don't want to jinx myself.
-Stephen (26% sane) out!

PS- I look forward to the day when I can go outside again, guilt free because I shouldn't be typing something up and screwing up my eyes staring at this monitor.

PPS- I wonder if there's some way to count my blog word-count towards the final word count of my paper. I suppose I could if I could figure out some way to add footnotes to this thing...

Oh my God
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: The hum of the fan, the sound of the trains
Writing your dissertation really really sucks.
But Bulgarian wine helps.

Oh my God
Mood:  don't ask
Now Playing: Those funky voices in my head drowning out the BBC world news
Oh my God, writing a dissertation really really sucks.

Sunday morning madness
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: The Washing machine drowning out Sunday Morning with Eddie Nestor
We've made the mistake of cleaning up the place before eating breakfast. Now the poached eggs are going to be ruined, the toast is burnt and, after watching Henry fonda in On Golden Pond last night, I feel no need to reign in my >ahem< endearingly crotchety behaviour while my wife criticizes me for 'constantly' blogging.

We had a very nice day yesterday with Elisabeth's co-worker Jane and her husband ad two kids but I'll let her write about that. We're off to the town center this afternoon to drink coffee in a cafe, read the Sunday papers and get some groceries.

-Toodleoo!

Silly Pub Rule
Mood:  spacey
Now Playing: The sound of Elisabeth eating
Wow-wee! E & I went to London on a Friday night for some awesome theatre MA birthday celebrations. Hit the old standby Wetherspoons off of Charing Cross (You know, the one we've taken every single guest who's stayed with us?) and was expecting some late night drinking fun (It turns out the last train to Woking is at 1AM so we can now do utterly wacky things like see plays and go to concerts.) But what happened? The bar closed at 11PM.

11PM.

Now what's strange with that picture? A packed bar on a Friday night, lots or people having a good time and we're forced to drink up and then sent out on the street? In the heart of one of the most vibrant cities in the world? And meanwhile there are all these news reports about drunks wandering the streets beating up people.

Hmm, let's think for a second... Maybe London should just keep them in the bars where they can get drunk & tired so that when the stumble out at some WACKY time like 1AM, they're too tired to beat up a tourist, help the economy by employing people longer, pubs make more money, the streets are safer...

But no. England's always been this way so there can't possibly be anything wrong with it, can there? Change would only be scary, strange and lead to that icky feeling...

Okey dokey, got to end things there. Elisabeth wants to watch On Golden Pond.

-Stephen (highly distressed) out.