There was a montage involving Bruce Forsythe on the television last night. It was a montage based around the fact that he's an entertainer. What do you think I saw? I saw a man with a big chin getting paid for being odd looking. Either I just don't understand what "entertainment" is or I know too well what "entertainment" is. But then, what can you learn from a montage anyway?
There is a montage in the Toxic Avenger about halfway through where almost the entire film is played again, but to music. Why? It's an awful film, truly awful. I have not seen it for years, and I don't think I'll go out of my way to see it again any time soon. But I digress.
I got a grand total of two and a half hours sleep last night. I could not get to sleep no matter how hard I tried, I just seemed to be as uncomfortable and awake as caffeine addict in a barrel of elbows. It really was shitty. I finally dropped off at about half past five in the morning, and woke up again at eight. As a result I have been unable to concentrate at work all day, and consequently I have done absolutely no work what so ever. Which is not always the case, I usually manage to do something, but today I have done nothing.
We're going to Jo's wind band's recital tonight, it should be enjoyable. I like the sound of woodwind bands and brass bands, it takes me back to the school orchestra and the flocks of clarinetists that we had. Thousands of them, honking and prrping away. There were the trumpets who just sounded like tin huts in a hurricane. And then there was me and my Chinese violin. I could play anything on that violin, any tune you liked as long as it sounded like the death wail of a rat being fired from a cannon. Don't know why I bothered. The oboe player was a little hotty though. Being a very ugly child I stood no chance with her however, so had to make do with sobbing gently into my violin case and running the risk of rusting my M1928 Thompson submachine gun and having it jam during my next gangland hit. In total I gunned down 24 people doing the bidding of the mob when I was at school, before I gave up a life of crime to concentrate on my GCSEs.
Looking back over that post I don't know why I bothered with it either. Why don't I just stick in some quips about hamsters and unicycles and pirates and going back packing and expanding my consciousness or how I swam with Dolphins on the moon while Zeus stoned olives for me and we waited for Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner to come round so we could play Bridge.
Fin.
3 comments:
Well done Mr Frictionless. you have reached the end of the week and posted every day.
I like the cut of your gib young man; you set yourself a target and you reached it, plodding forward implacably like a particularly determined wombat.
I for one will have my customary Friday evening beverage and raise a glass to your monumental achievement.
Thank Mr Booze. I think the quality suffered, but it has stimulated the little grey cells. Obviously not in the way my employer would have appreciated, but hell, I'm an artist baby.
M. Chops; you should really stop licking the backs of toads before you go to sleep. Remember that time you thought you were a parsnip and buried your head in the vegetable patch and got your legs eaten by rabbits? I would have thought you would have learnt your lesson. Crazy fool.
I'm not going on no airplane... But I do love it when a plan comes together.
(NB - The double negative and the American spelling are deliverate, by the way!)
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