Time (We Plants Are Happy Plants Remix) – Hans Zimmer
Once again, my bad. Blogaruu has been on the back of milk cartons. Search parties were out. Knocking on doors. Week on the missing list. Mighty news… She’s finally returned! Wuu huu, says you. Welcome home you ape! In a feeble attempt to make up for the lack of, here are a few drip drops of names. She has been a while! Fussball has been a random old hoot lately. Woody Harrelson has now joined the ranks for 5-a-side. Sound man. Chilled beyond belief. Asked him if he read the copy of my book that I gave him before… ‘Book? (Puzzled look) What book man? Oh… The book down my pants?! That was down my pants for 3 hours man! I remember the book!’… Oh yeah?! What do you think of i… ‘Who has that book now man? Someone took it off me. I’d like to keep reading it. Who took it? Where is that man?’ Oh. Right. Someone else has it? Cheers boss. (Woody’s loss!? Obviously highly gutted. I could tell. I swear). More drips… Had a dancing game of 5-a-side tonight against the band Muse. Who were not amused at all. Seeing as our team was invincible. Controlled the game. Like Knights of Cydonia. We were victorious. Can’t think of any more lyrics. So. Ehh. Gibber on…
Anyway, the last… Actually, I have been reprimanded recently on something. Anyways. And how it should be anyway. Tut. I prefer anyways. So that’s what it shall be. Anyways, the last week has been a bit random, to say the least. Only two activities have been done on a daily basis. One, is voice lessons. Which are just going swimmingly well! During the lesson. And then I seem to regress even more. Under compensating when speaking seeing as the lessons do go so well. Running back to not-too-bothered-to-make-an-effort-to-speak-clearly. Mumbling bumbling rambling on. Hubullas. Ahbejesusisuppose. Ironically, when I do tell people I’m doing voice lessons, this is how they have genuinely responded… ‘Pardon?’ ‘Haha, yeah.’ ‘Vice lessons? What’s that? What’s a vice?’ ‘You’re doing what, sorry? Are you really? I would not have known. You just sound drunk to me’. Mighty stuff. Needs to be sorted out. Soon. My inability to speak is holding me back? Something far far more fun is distracting me at least…
Art! So the other day my buddy Robart invites me up to his house. Up to Mulholland I go. Walk up the driveway. All the cars parked in the driveway as opposed to in the garage. Notice a load of canvases inside. Paint everywhere. Paintings everywhere. Mighty ones. Hey hup, what’s going on? Garage turned into a studio. What are ye up to… Art club. Want to join… Giddy up! At first, watched. Then, danced on. First piece… Verbal Bomb. Stenciled letters. Dropped paint on the canvas. Appeared to be ruined. Did a bit of this. Bit of that. Spinned. Twirled. Flicked. Dropped. Dripped. Dried. Actually. Nay too shabby for first go. Hooked! Randumb. Unexpected. Surprising. But above all… Absolutely mighty!!!
Free. Dumb. Fun.
Ever since, art has been on and on. In a big way. Prolific week of it. Getting better and better as well. Seriously, it is ridiculously mighty. No pressure. No deadlines. No worries. No nothing. Freedom. As a wise red-headed Irish man once said… Make art! So we did. Time, good duck to you. Remembering to eat, must try harder to do. Taking part is fun, obviously. Finally my gibberish makes slightly more sense in the art world. Dancing. However, results are more fun. And so far, so funking good. Initially people presume it’s just throwing paint around. And that basically it will be a load of crap. And then they see it art. And responses start to change. Surprise… ‘No way. You did that?!’ ‘Seriously? I thought it was going to be bruuuuuuuutallll! I can’t believe it. Can I commission you to do a piece for me?’. Best of all ‘I actually want to buy it. How much? I’ll give you…’ Eh… Wuu!
As Always... Plough On!
So the week of art has been funking savage. New outlet. More the merrier! Another randumb one to add to the books. Hours flying by as we work on a piece. Insanely expensive cars under tarpaulins next to us. Music playing along. All the time we art on. Absolutely mighty. Art on. I’ve being saying it all week like an ape on repeat. Along with plough on. Applicable to art, as it is to almost all things in life. Something doesn’t seem to be working…. Plough on! It will come good. And so far, it has always ended up working out better than hoped. Dancing. Also highly tiring. In a good way. Bar the lack of writing. At least deep sleep is back on!
Hey Little Do... Oh Jesus
Although Friday night was a bit dodge. Got back to my apartment after a long day of art. Covered in paint. Smelling and looking like I had just spent the past 10 hours making art. Key in my apartment door. Turned the key. Heard a bizarre noise coming from inside. Dozy and wrecked, didn’t cop on. Turned the handle, I hear massive growls and barks. What what?! Open the door, a black dog comes running out from the room at me. And not in a nice way. More of a I-want-to-jump-up-and-bite-your-neck-and-take-you-down-biatch, kind of way. Perhaps slightly exaggerated. But more true. Oh Jesus. Jump back. Slam the door shut in time. Just before the dog is able to rip me apart. What the funk just happened?!!!
She Wants To Kill Me
Remember that my roommate is minding a dog for two weeks. Roommate isn’t at home now. So for the next 15 minutes I’m just standing in the hallway outside my apartment like a complete ape, trying to think of what to do. Dog is roaming around, dominating the apartment. Dog is not happy. Growling, snarling and going for me. The berries. Thoughts flying through my head… Come on, it’s only a dog, bark worst than its bite, you’ll be fine, just take control… Turn the door handle again… Coast seems clear… Take one step in… Dog runs out at me from a bedroom, red rage, anger, hunger and murder all over its face…. “RARAARARARRARAAAARRRRROOOOFFRAARRRRRRRRR” Oh holy funking Jesus! Jump back out. Slam the door. Fall to the floor. Funk me pink. This is bullsh**!!! Although… If anything were to happen, Verbal Bomb’s value would sky rocket, no? One plus. Shhh. Where’s my roommate… Still not answering the phone. What the funk am I going to do?! Only option really… Pub on, hobo style!
Complete Bull Pit!
Down to the pub. Well. After I checked to see if maybe the dog just didn’t like me. Asked my friend Kailand to come over. She might have better joy. Just run in and get my wallet? Ah, not too big a dog, you’ll be fine. Maybe it just thinks I’m the devil or something? Ok… Go! And then it went for her as well. Not impressed to be fed to the lions. So then we went to the pub. And the usual gibber from others… Ah I’m sure it’s only a small dog. Don’t be such a woman. Just go in. You need to show the dog who is in charge. Bite worst than bark. Sure. Ye apes. Trust me. How big is the dog? I don’t know… Up to my knee? Ankle? I don’t know. Not that I dislike dogs. Just that they seemed to be fans of chasing me when I was young. Just don’t like when they run at me now. Or jump on me. Or snarl growl bark and attack me. Just don’t like those things. Few pints later, start thinking maybe it is just a small dog and I’ve nothing to be worried aboot. Until I get a call from my roommate. Who was in the cinema. Just out. On the way home to sort it. Dog isn’t used to surroundings. Getting territorial. Not used to me. Rar diddy rar. Would never bite or attack me. Oh right. Sure. By the by, what kind of dog is it? A pit bull you say?! Oh yeah that would never attack. Angry. Upset. Hungry. Pit. Bull. Bull. Shhh. Definitely not. How dumb of me. Nothing to worry aboot!!
Now everything is ok. Ish. Kind of. Still growls. Snarls. Still dominates the apartment. To make peace, I attempt bribes with turkey. Which she gladly eats. And then snarls, growls and dominates me. Fun times. Maybe not as bad as this rusty old blogaruu though. Did not do much justice to any of those stories. Some were sliced down. Shh. Back on the swing. Wuu. Says… No one. Dog off. Art on!!!