The capitalisation of the word odd was deliberate. It's been a weird one.
So I started the day by learning that Elliot Smith had killed himself, this set in motion a chain of thoughts which have led me to be sat here at three in the morning with a perfectly conceived novel idea in full note form saved, blinkingly to my hard drive.
I wasn't a big fanboy of Smith, but I liked his stuff, most of the day I have been thinking about what happens when somebody you're mildly interested in dies. The huge fans get to grieve to long and stultifyingly dull effect (speaking as a survivor of grunge I think I speak for all of my peers when I state that Kurt Cobain dying was THE MOST BORING THING THAT HAS EVER OCCURRED, "Yes but he understood me!" cries disaffected teen of Leighton Buzzard. Understand this, teenagers of the world, all you are looking for in a rock star is a reason not to tidy your room. To feel that you, if you were like them, could be a rebel too, and not tidy up. It all comes down to the tidying, yo) the non-fans don't even know it's occurred. the rest of us are left in a nagging limbo.
So I was chewing over this for a while, when a lad came in for a meal, on his own, tall, angular, meant to be meeting someone. I know this because he told me three times. Like I care (that wasn't mere flippancy, the human need to justify oneself to a stranger has always mystified me). Eventually, he lost patience, and left. As is always the way with these things, his date turned up three minutes later.
Life is basically an enormous grey area of opportunities generally missed, so that's the NaNoWriMo plot sorted. It's going to be called Nothing Happens, as people who want things to happen are just plain pushy.
In other news our Rival Restaurant has been hiring staff. They have done this by asking potential part-time (I cannot stress this enough) waiting-on staff to turn up to a fucking GROUP INTERVIEW clutching....
...no...hang on....
one item which best describes them.
For a part-time waiting on job.
They are imbeciles.
(One girl turned up with a pair of shoes, looked uneasy and eventually said "Well, I like shoes....oh this is fucking stupid" and walked out. She's my new Favourite Person ever).
So I started the day by learning that Elliot Smith had killed himself, this set in motion a chain of thoughts which have led me to be sat here at three in the morning with a perfectly conceived novel idea in full note form saved, blinkingly to my hard drive.
I wasn't a big fanboy of Smith, but I liked his stuff, most of the day I have been thinking about what happens when somebody you're mildly interested in dies. The huge fans get to grieve to long and stultifyingly dull effect (speaking as a survivor of grunge I think I speak for all of my peers when I state that Kurt Cobain dying was THE MOST BORING THING THAT HAS EVER OCCURRED, "Yes but he understood me!" cries disaffected teen of Leighton Buzzard. Understand this, teenagers of the world, all you are looking for in a rock star is a reason not to tidy your room. To feel that you, if you were like them, could be a rebel too, and not tidy up. It all comes down to the tidying, yo) the non-fans don't even know it's occurred. the rest of us are left in a nagging limbo.
So I was chewing over this for a while, when a lad came in for a meal, on his own, tall, angular, meant to be meeting someone. I know this because he told me three times. Like I care (that wasn't mere flippancy, the human need to justify oneself to a stranger has always mystified me). Eventually, he lost patience, and left. As is always the way with these things, his date turned up three minutes later.
Life is basically an enormous grey area of opportunities generally missed, so that's the NaNoWriMo plot sorted. It's going to be called Nothing Happens, as people who want things to happen are just plain pushy.
In other news our Rival Restaurant has been hiring staff. They have done this by asking potential part-time (I cannot stress this enough) waiting-on staff to turn up to a fucking GROUP INTERVIEW clutching....
...no...hang on....
one item which best describes them.
For a part-time waiting on job.
They are imbeciles.
(One girl turned up with a pair of shoes, looked uneasy and eventually said "Well, I like shoes....oh this is fucking stupid" and walked out. She's my new Favourite Person ever).
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