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Jan. 25th, 2013 08:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
localfreakThis evening I am mostly having a fit of artistic temprement, which in my house is termed for "Being A Melodramatic Ranting Wanker". But it's all rotten and I can't write. I'm desperate, dying, deranged to write something, anything, a smutty limeric, a tiny bit of verse, a drabble, a flash fiction ANYTHING that I can write and think "That's okay." But I haven't managed one completed thing all month. I spend more time staring lost into space thinking of nothing to say, or writing down bits of words that never seem to gel together. I have IDEAS but nothing seems to formulate correctly. Which then makes me feel like a failure. Which is unpleasant.
Maybe I'm coming down with something, my throat is sore; if in doubt, blame the body rather than admit to fears of a dullard's soul.
In mildly brighter news I have submitted both my essay and virtual presentation on Monday. So that is good. My next module is Research Methods, which originally I was not looking forward to but after feeling like a dunce for the last few months feels like a breath of air. My readings for week one are IMMENSE so I made a small start yesterday, as I finished both my fiction library books (Gerald's Game by Stephen King and The Godfather by Owen Whittaker ) rather quicker than expected. The first reading is one of those late 30s social anthropologists, always fun and at least never too dry it's all "It was on the corner of forty-second street I first encountered Ronnie. He was a good boy, rought like they all were, but he must have thought there was some merit in what I was trying to do. Pretty soon Mama and Papa deVola were having me round the table for supper at least once a week like one of the family so when Joey, the youngest, got into some trouble at the local gambling dens, of course he came to find me, as did the guys he'd annoyed." Shades of....oh damn, what was that black and white Film Noir where the camera was restricted to the view of the main protagonist? My google-fu is not working tongiht.
Maybe I'm coming down with something, my throat is sore; if in doubt, blame the body rather than admit to fears of a dullard's soul.
In mildly brighter news I have submitted both my essay and virtual presentation on Monday. So that is good. My next module is Research Methods, which originally I was not looking forward to but after feeling like a dunce for the last few months feels like a breath of air. My readings for week one are IMMENSE so I made a small start yesterday, as I finished both my fiction library books (Gerald's Game by Stephen King and The Godfather by Owen Whittaker ) rather quicker than expected. The first reading is one of those late 30s social anthropologists, always fun and at least never too dry it's all "It was on the corner of forty-second street I first encountered Ronnie. He was a good boy, rought like they all were, but he must have thought there was some merit in what I was trying to do. Pretty soon Mama and Papa deVola were having me round the table for supper at least once a week like one of the family so when Joey, the youngest, got into some trouble at the local gambling dens, of course he came to find me, as did the guys he'd annoyed." Shades of....oh damn, what was that black and white Film Noir where the camera was restricted to the view of the main protagonist? My google-fu is not working tongiht.
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Date: 2013-01-26 10:07 pm (UTC)Hurrah for essays being handed in! And that sounds a rather interesting read. I have forgotten what those types of films are called too, I'm afraid.
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Date: 2013-01-27 07:58 am (UTC)Pretty much all the fun social anthropologists, particularly in America, wrote a little like hard-boiled detectives in the fiction of the time, even though most of them were from upper-middle-class backgrounds. The only ones who didn't were people like Humphries who did the tearoom trade study, although of course, a treatise on cottaging is interesting in its own right ;)