Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

This is literally what it says in the subject. My day. It's uneventful and boring but there you go. Since some people posted pics of their computers in doreen's thread about "natural HABITat" I thought I'd let you all get to know me a wee bit more by taking you by the hand, talking you through my Tuesday. Read before bedtime for optimum results.
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I woke up at 7.30am and felt fucked. Switched of the alarm. Click. Opened the curtains. Draw. And tried to adjust my eyes, like every crackly morning, to the light. Fucking snow. March 1 and it’s snowing. Big boot weather. I stand naked in my room with a hardon but I don’t remember what I was dreaming about. I push down against it to feel the strain and tension then smile as I admire it in the mirror. With the window opened I breathe in some crisp air, pull on some boxer shorts and a pair of jeans and go to the bathroom.

The bathroom window has been opened all night and it’s fucking freezing in there. I brush my teeth and feel grateful that I don’t need a shit. The toothbrush sweeps against the ulcer under my tongue and I yelp. I go back into my room, get dressed and go to the kitchen.

I fill the kettle up with water and switch it on. The kettle is noisy as it boils and never fails to annoy me. I long for a silent kettle. As soon as the teabag is dropped in the cup I decide I want coffee instead, after all, I’m fucked and could do with the pick up. I go into the living room and switch on the TV.

Everybody Loves that Moron Raymond is on. I sit in the chair with my coffee and try not to fall asleep. I have a sore toe. I take off my boot and adjust my sock a little. At 8.45am I put my parka on, check I have my wallet, bus pass and something to read on the bus. I’m still reading the complete novels of Kafka. I’ve read America and The Trial and I’m half way through The Castle. I step out the front door and a cold wind hits my spine. I zip up further and pull my scarf tighter. Fucking snow.

The ice cold wind is blowing down the hill and driving snow carrying needles into my face. I walk up the hill as if I’m carrying an injured comrade fallen in the mud on my back. I cross the road at the top of the hill and stand at the bus stop. It’s 8.55am.

The bus comes just after 9am. I show my ticket, pick up a copy of the free newspaper (the Metro) that they have on the busses and walk to the seat just behind the rear wheel of the bus. This seat has more room in front of it and I don’t feel as uncomfortable. I undo my coat and flick through the paper. Oscars, Michael Jackson…Lebanese government resignation. I fold the paper up and sit it down next to me on the chair. Day dreaming out of bus windows is better when the window has a thin layer of condensation over it; dreamy, secluded. The guy who talks to his ticket gets on the bus and sits a few seats in front of me. I watch him for a while before getting bored and turning back to the window.

The bus is an old one. It’s noisy and rattles along in the snow. Needless to say, there is no heater on this bus. I’m cold and wrap my coat around me body. The bus pulls in at the side of the road at the Parkhead depot to change driver.

Driver one tells driver two about some problem with the bus. From what I could hear, there’s water in the tank but the warning light still flashes. Driver two says he’ll get someone to look at it when he gets to Buchanan Bus Station. The bus seems to sit by the side of the road for a fortnight. In actuality it’s about 4 minutes in the cold. But, the snow is quitting.

As the bus takes off again I’m trying to decide whether to get off at Argyle Street and walk along or at George Square and walk down. I get off at George Square and get to ico ico on Jamaica Street at about 9.50am. Press the buzzer, hear a faint mumble of something say hello and try to listen over the traffic rumble. I hear the beep and boot the incredibly heavy, stiff door and climb up the stairs and stairs and stairs. I couldn’t get the lift because a workman was standing at it with a backless drinks machine.

I’m the first one in and sit down next to the radiator. My scarf is wet with snow and rubbing, irritatingly on my chin stubble. I put my coat over the chair just as the lecturer walked in.

--alright?

--yes. It’s fucking freezing today. I was going to stay in bed.

--a few train services are cancelled. I take it your train was okay?

--don’t know. I get the bus.

--I’m just installing some text editors on this machine. I won’t be a minute.

Another student walks in.

--fuck!

--what?

--I copied Photoshop 7 for you but I forgot to pick the disk up when I left this morning.

--cool. Thanks. I’ll get it tomorrow.

--yes. I’ll bring it tomorrow.

I told him yesterday that I had version 6 on my system at home. But, when I got home I realised I had 7. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him since he’s already made a copy for me. I’ll just take the disk and thank him. I don’t have the installation files on back up anyway.

I tell him about Ricky’s ideas for this interactive film he’s making for Uni. I tell him that I’m supposed to be acting in it as a favour. He tells me a bit about his art and showed me some of his stuff online. It’s really impressive surrealistic landscapes. More fantasy that surrealist but I say that he must have been doing a lot of acid at the time. He laughs and says he was. His plan is to be able to incorporate his art with his web design skills. I tell him I plan on doing the same thing with my writing.

I check my email. Two spam messages, two messages from Alicia, a message from Pat at Elevation Station and a Studio8 topic notification.

There isn’t much work to do just now because I’ve just started with this place. So lunchtime takes ages to come. I take a look at the news on guardian.co.uk and nme.com. There’s a gig in the art school on Saturday. Towers of London are playing. I send Ricky a text message and see if he wants to go.

At lunchtime I walk under Central Bridge to Ticket Scotland and get two tickets for Saturday. Then I go and get some lunch. I’m not that hungry so I just get a chicken salad sandwich from Gregg’s and eat it while walking through the Buchanan Galleries to keep out of the cold. The sandwich was nice, about half a foot of wholemeal bread, mayonnaise, crisp salad and soft chunks of chicken. Ricky wants me to have a look for a book. All he could tell me was that the book is green and it’s about research techniques. I have a look, can’t find it and can’t be bothered to ask, so I leave and go back to class. Press the buzzer, listen over traffic and boot the door. I get the lift up this time. It’s 1.50pm.

The afternoon section of the class is just as dull as the morning. I have a look at some CSS information on the net but there’s only so much you can absorb without getting some examples to work on.

I check my email again. Check the news again. Look at the clock every fifteen minutes. I hardly see the lecturer all afternoon. As soon as 4pm comes around I get my coat on and leave.

It’s still cold outside but the snow has stopped. There are two Arabian looking guys standing at the bus stop with an incredibly cute little girl jumping around about them. The two men are talking in, I assume, their own language and laughing. There is a woman with blue hair standing in front of them. It looks like they are laughing at her by the way they are eyeing her up and down. She doesn’t care, or she doesn’t know. The bus comes just after 4.10pm. An Asian woman with her head covered gets on in front of me and talks to the driver.

--catbreege?

--what?

--catbreege, yes?

--I don’t know what you’re saying.

I intervene and tell the woman that, yes, this bus goes to Coatbridge. She smiles and sits down. I show the driver my ticket and manage to get the seat just behind the wheel again. I pull Kafka from my pocket and try to get lost in the story.

I get home about 5pm as I’m just beginning chapter 13 of the Castle. This annoys me. I hate to be on chapter 13 of a book. It’s my least favourite chapter. I’m not superstitious but I must be.


Now I’m home and writing this. For the rest of the night I intend to lie around, maybe I’ll play some guitar; create a little web of sound to suspend myself from. But, in essence, I’ll be doing nothing tonight. I’ll enjoy it.

Wow Bennie.
I felt like your shadow reading this.

Loved it.
every word.

Really glad I stopped in.....
yep.
H

SCINTILLATING! Absolutely scintillating. I learned many things about you I wished not to ever know. Thank-you!

Awfully funny read Bennie. You made your bit of a humdrum day sound not too bad. I really enjoyed it.

Would you like to hear about my day..........ah, sleeping already I see....I get that alot. S'alright. Nighty night.

nicely done, Bennie... as usual. your writing continues to get stronger and more fun to read. thx.

thanks for reading this.

And, mousey, actually, yes, I would like to hear about your day. I was hoping people would post similar posts in this thread about their day. No bullshit. No lies. Just the dull, daily, minute minutia, minute by minute, hour by hour. time slips like air from a burst baloon and the only thing that makes life worthwhile is the farting noise emited by the rushing air.

wow. philosophy. go me.

Haw haw, lol...that was funny bennie, and I must say, I kinda agree with you...heh.

(by the way, your current pix is fabulous bennie....speaks volumes in a sort of clever severity......i can relate to it... It's just, funny as hell...heh)
appreciate it

H

No lies!!!! No bullshit!!!! You must be mad!!!!!!!!!

My life is about embellishment! Without it I would be but a wisp of wind in a hurricane. Well, okay, even with embellishment it's pretty fucking sad!

Okay......

this was a particularly good day. I woke up. A very good sign as it means I've been gifted another day in which to fuck up in. I'd better get started.

Easing out of bed I make for the bathroom. Sweeping my foot back and forth across the darkened floor - I never turn on the light, no idea why - I feel for the furry mass that is invariably stretched out at some point along my path. Ah, there she is, Buffy the dog. I cautiously step over. It is precisely at this moment that she leaps to life and together we tumble headlong into the bathroom. I flick on the light.

After gazing sleepily at my sallow-eyed reflection I set to work making myself gorgeous in all the usual ways. Not an easy feat. You can't perform miracles in thirty minutes, but I try, I try. Once I am satisfied that I no longer look like "girl in a windstorm" I head to the kitchen to fortify my brain with much needed caffeine.

Bright-eyed and invigorated I tromp out the door, hop into my spritely little Ford Topaz, piece of shit, car and head for work, my home away from home. A ten minute drive and voila, I arrive.

The hardest thing for me is forcing my unwilling carcass through the doors and into the building, especially in the summertime. Once inside however, I quickly adapt, smear my work-a-day smile onto my face and let the fun begin.

I work in a Care Center for the elderly and infirm. Yippee! We have 24 residents, most of whom require a high level of care, the majority having alzheimers or some degree of dementia, not unlike me. Did I mention I work there. I am a service worker, fancy name for slave. I provide healthy, nutritious, completely tasteless meals, tidy up and do laundry - I feel so at home. I complete all these tasks in six and one half hours which fly like time. Whew!

By the way, in case you haven't guessed, I like my job. No, really! Why, you ask. Well, it's not the work, I could easily spend the rest of my days with my feet up. No, I love the residents, each and every quirky one of them. We're a large extended family. I like that I can laugh and joke with them, cry with them, hold their hands, hug them when they need it. It can be sad, disheartening, they come and they go, sometimes sooner then we'd like. For the most part though, each of them is ready to go and often they welcome it, wish for it. They are tired, they seek rest, they will find it, they will find peace. It is release.

Still and all, come the end of my shift, I fairly pounce out the door. I let out a silent whoop and head for home. On this day it is 1:30 in the afternoon and I am now free to lark about as I please. Which I proceed to do.

On arriving home I am set upon by two ecstatic dogs who dance joyfully around me. They are there without fail and I always wonder why the fuss, tis only I. They make me feel special. Dogs are funny that way.

I shuck my shoes and clothes. Take a quick shower, then settle in with a satisfying cup of tea which I linger over deliciously to totally unwind. After frittering on the computer I step outside and wander happily about. I am yearning for spring now when all the birds return and the flowers begin to bloom. Sighing deeply I return indoors to feed my hungry face.

In the evening I watch the news, which makes me blue, so I shake it off by watching some mindless entertainment, a favorite pasttime of mine. Perhaps too much so, but the year is young, plenty of time to kick the habit.

I am now writing this atrociously boring story which you may or may not read. Once I've posted it on my favorite hang about spot, Studio8, I'll read some of your excellent writing. After that I'll watch more T.V., no I'm not addicted, 'course I am. Then I'll read for awhile, I'm almost through "'Tis" by Frank McCourt and I'm also reading Vonnegut's "Hocus Pocus" and "Slapstick". Hi Ho.

To wrap up my evening - put a fine glow on it - I'll put on some music and dance wildly and exuberantly around my room, this being my chosen form of exercise. Once I am rosily glistening with sweat I'll run a soothing bath, sink deeply into it and relax, baby, relax. After towelling dry I'll wrap myself in my favorite cosy bathrobe, slip on my Winnie the Pooh slipper socks, hot momma that I am, pour a glass of wine, curl up on my bed and write awhile. As drowsiness overtakes me I'll switch off the light and bid you all a sweet goodnight.

THE END.

Next Studio Eighter if you please....

We wait with baited breath....

Scintillate!

And don't leave me dangling or I'll shoot Bennie!

Fucking hell, that was a yawn.



haha, thanksfortaking up the chalenge. I don't like this pC i'm on at the moment. it has a fucked up keyboard.

I enjoyedreading your monotomouse (see what I did there?) day.

thenkyou both so muchissimo, man!

Alright, I’ll give it a go.

Alarm? 9:00 am. Much later than usual because I was up all night working on my Aphra Behn presentation for Early Modern Theatre History. The name of that class sounds like a trip, but it’s like this…. The class is divided into 2 semesters, the first semester is called Classical Theatre, and we start from the beginning of time, fertility rites, move thru the Greeks, Romans, Medieval England & France, then wind up around the 14th century Japan. 2nd semester begins with the Italian Renaissance, then Elizabethan, Jacobean, French neo-classical, Restoration (where we are now) then Baroque, 18th century, some other things, winding up with Victor Hugo.

My presentation went well, it was an easy topic, all I had to do was look at a lot of pictures of naked and humping people during the 17th century. It was easy to get started on, but difficult to get much work down on paper because you have to jerk off a lot when you’re made to look at so many naked pictures every night. i mean, when you're getting graded on an oral presentation, you want to make certain that you've done lots of research, because who knows what kind of questions they'll ask you at the end. So, the presentation is over with, and I’m glad that’s out of my hair because now I can revert back to full Salomé mode. That’s the play I’m directing right now as an independent project, and we go up in less than 3 weeks so there’s a lot of work still to do.

And that’s the only class I had today, because I skipped French to sleep in, because I stayed up so late last night studying. Went for lunch in the univeristy bar with Tom and Caitlin, and this ditzy blonde Amber, whose interjections into the conversation are always annoying and mean she needs something explained to her. Tom hadn’t been to bed yet, and went to go crash out on the couch in the basement after lunch. I came home, crawled back into bed, and fell asleep watching Desperately Seeking Susan.

Then I went out props shopping for Salomé. I bought a japanese paper lantern which will soon have a woman’s face painted on it, and then be suspended from the grid as our full moon. Then I went down to the camera shop and the guy cleaned my hot shoe for free, so my new/used flash works now. Then I was craving chinese vegetables so I took myself for dinner to King Wah and enjoyed a big plate of gai-lan in garlic sauce with some steamed rice and a pot of chinese tea. The waitress was so pleased that I didn’t call it ‘chinese broccoli’ she said, ‘oh, you’re so chinese!’ to which I could only reply ‘thank you!’ Dinner was expensive. $13.00 with tip. Gotta start cooking at home again.

Then I drove across the bridge to Value Village to do some costume shopping and also to search for a long haired wig to staple onto our severed head. All the wigs there were too short, so I just wound up buying myself 3 adorable vintage summer dresses. Well, one’s not vintage. The best one is light blue 50’s kitsch and has still-life paintings of pears and grapes on it. I commented on the cashier’s beautiful pentagram pendant, and she invited me to join her new coven. I smoked a cigarette in the car on the way home and only gagged once. It’s freezing outside. Car slid all around in my parking spot tonight before I could get backed out, busted a few fenceposts even. Fucking snow. But it seems to be stopping. Need a bag of salt for the driveway. I’m beginning to miss the west coast.

Jumped in the shower, washed off that smell of secondhand clothing stores, and then called all of my cast to tell them rehearsal’s cancelled tomorrow night because my stage manager has a show in the director’s showcase and it’s the only night I can go see it. Three sexy girls dancing around my friend Max and his djembe drum, it’s an interpretive dance version of William Falkner’s ‘The Bear'. And then I munched out on some white corn tortilla chips and salsa, and a big old jam jug that I’ve recycled into a drinking glass full of apple juice. I opened the can with my new multitool from the army surplus store, and this makes me feel pretty cool. And then I dump out the bag of my new spring dresses onto the floor to admire them, pull the staples out of their price tags, and throw them into the laundry hamper. I trip over a pair of shoes and say to myself that I really should try to get rid of some of these clothes. Donate some more to the Sally Ann, or sell some more to the consignment shop downstairs. But I’m in theatre, and my room has always looked like an old stripper's costume shop, and probably always will. And I like it that way.

Signed into S8, read this one post, and decided I’d try to play along. And now that that’s done, I’m going to go phone up Sarah (of yes with a capital ‘S’ fame) and chat awhile with her whilst I stitch a broken belt loop back onto some dress pants for work. And then I may fall asleep reading Walden, or watching another movie. Somewhere on this desk is a list of bands that Bennie sent me, and i've only checked out one so far. The Bravery, who i thought were quite awesome. Where is that fucking list? And I have construction class first thing tomorrow morning where I will finish assembling my project and then try to ignore starting my next project. I wish my new dresses were clean and I could wear one to school, but it’s too fucking snowy and cold out still. Fucking snow.

seven thirty
that's the same time I get up
unless I have a request to linger
a deft finger on my glans
rapt contact with mucous membranes
and the sweet friction of morning

then two advils and a glass of tomato juice straight
a little salt on top and then I start adding ale
and check my email from other time zones
It's a ritual before my first Pall Mall
which I light just after I send my cultural consultant
off to middle school making sure she is wrapped properly for the cold.

I have a friend who is working in Afghanistan
she helps to remove veils
so I wrote an email begging her to chronicle her adventures

I checked to see if any of the twenty newspapers that I emailed yesterday had responded to my inquiry. No luck.

I pause for my morning's olfactory prayer, puff, om
then two hours of research
followed by a cup of the zesty onion soup that I made yesterday
it warms my ears for another two hours of writing

A couple of hours next are spent burning cds
five copies of Oral Sets to be mailed and some data burns for work
take a break, practice the flute, piano parts, fiddle with arrangements

A hot bath and a nap.

Up in time for the news.

Grab a bite and fill my glass.

Time for the evening writing session.

Hop back and forth from the piano keyboard to the computer keyboard

At 10:00 Jose Cuervo comes to visit.

We play music and laugh.

Then I wait for her in bed.

G'nite.

You knew this was good right?
Look that was so funny the morning boner bit, fucking great. Alot of it sounds like my morning with out the School bit or what ever. But the finding a book to read on the metro, and all. I was fucking great man thanks. Look keep writing! That was fucking good!

"monotomouse" eh.....clever lad!!!!

It was meant to be a yawn! I love it when I meet my goals!

Glorious, Lrod, loved your day.

I'm enjoying this thread! I hope more will contributate!