Send Me An E-Mail That Says 'I Love You'

*WARNING* This next post contains words of a sexual nature and is not for the faint of heart. Or stomach. Or you know, anything. You have been warned

I, like many people, get junk mail.

I, like many people, get junk mail of a rather sexual nature. Luckily, I like many people have the sense to see that it is this type of junk mail from the title. Most of these invite me to have '$$$ex' with 'people'. Usually women, but not always. Obviously these junk mailers have taken the time to find my e-mail address, but not find out what sexual persuasion I am of. How rude! Also, to be frank, if sex involves '$$$' at the start of it, I don't think it's something I want to know about.

Anyway, many of these are just plain scary. Firstly, the one that invited me to learn about the wonderful world of 'Monster' penises. Now, does this mean I'm going to take an enthralling trip into the world of Frankenstein's wang? Am I going to find out where Dracula is pumping all that blood? Or, am I more likely to see giant genitalia with fangs and a mind of its own? If the latter is the case, and these things are on the loose, then maybe more people should be informed of the imminent penis related doom that awaits us.

Another interesting one that I received is that explaining how to attain 'explosive orgasms'. Would you like an explosive orgasm? Really? "Oh, yes... KABOOM" and that's another lover dead. Oh well, I suppose at least it's a good way to go. Then I though, maybe it's just a new form of contraception, just another way to lower teen pregnancies.

-HRNY_WIF26- dropped me a lovely e-mail that told me that she can't stop craving c**k. Obviously she's writing to me for help. I didn't open it, I just sent her a charming one back, saying that I'm an English and Theatre student, not a psychiatrist, and that she might have better luck checking in the phone book. Poor girl.

Needless to say, I never opened any of these e-mails and it's now pretty much a reaction to press the delete button, but it does make you wonder... Who the hell writes these things? I do ponder sometimes if there is a select group of people who just try to make things up to piss people off. It's probably the same bloke who invented the Crazy Frog.

... I also get junk mail that is trying to sell me watches. Tons of it. How many watches can one person need? Seriously, I only have so much arm.

Bobbikk

If I close my eyes it will all go away. No, no... now I'm in pain AND blind.

I can tell I'm getting old.

The subtle sign, (well I say subtle, it's actually about as subtle as when a train smashes through the front of your living room with "We don't like your house" written in big letters all over it and a huge tenor singing the same in the driver's seat.) that shows me this is the morning after a night out. Now, due to the fact that I'm a boring sod and prefer a good old night in talking to some close friends to the banging your head against a brick wall, whilst ripping your vocal chords out in an attempt to talk to someone that is clubbing, this doesn't happen very often. However, when it does there's a horrible consequence to it. It's that waking up and thinking 'Oh wow... I don't have a hangover, I'm going to live! I'm going to live! Praise be! I'm ALIVE!'

Oh, the sneaky bastard.

Mr. Hangover, at this point, is sitting at the back of your head, chuckling relentlessly at the dramatic irony. It's like a candid camera skit. "He's lying there, thinking he's gotten away with last night, due to that pint of water he had before bed. What he doesn't know, is we've dumped a kilo of what seems to be horse manure in his head, and as soon as he moves, he's going to feel it."

So, like an idiot. I move. See, the clever thing to do in such a situation, is stay absolutely perfectly still. The hangover cannot begin until you move. No-one ever does this though, because we're all stupid and secondly Mr. Hangover is clever enough to use that pint of water against you, with the aid of his friend Mother Nature and her miraculous telephone.

The result of such movement can be defined as 'the world is trying to eat my head, whilst trying to empty the contents of my stomach'. And, as with when the whole world has turned against you in such a way, there is no known cure. Anyone who tells you they know a surefire hangover cure is a liar. Or a madman. Or still drunk. It's like a prison sentence, you do your time, think about what you've done and pray for an early release. Don't try to cure it, just enjoy it. I mean, who doesn't like a good headache now and then to remind you you're alive? (Although, technically, when you have a hangover, you're not living. Hangover comes from the latin word 'hangovus' which translates as 'oh shit, I'm dead'.)

Nevermind. I'm sure we'll learn from this the next time we go out and won't get so drunk because of it. Either that or like a prison sentence we'll become hardened and we'll get so blind drunk that we won't remember anything about the lessons we've learnt today.

I think the first option, but this six pack of Fosters at my side says differently.

Bobbikk

Fartball

Firstly, for those of you who have been living under a rock for the last couple of weeks (or as we like to call it, 'in America') the world cup has been taking place. So that means that teams from all over the globe (yes, including America) have come together to play the grand old game known as football (or 'soccer').

Right, now the main thing. Did you see that match? Trinedad and Tobago, against England. We won, thank goodness and now we're through to the next round! The only thing that I can think to liken the match to is (I'm really sorry to be crude, but this is what it was like) a really big fart that you just can't let out in public. We had so many shots on goal, it just built up and up and up until the pressure was too great and it had to be let out. So yes, football is like flatulence. It builds up and builds up, and if you're on the wrong end of it, it really stinks.

Bobbikk

You're... Making Me... LEARN???

Once again, I invite you into that scary terrain of my personal life. This time to tell you that my second exam is coming up. Now, I've sat suffering the pains of Theatre Studies revision for several hours this week. Admittedly, probably not as much as some, but that doesn't mean that I don't know the pangs of pure pain it inflicts on your brain. So, for three main reasons, I am going to educate you unsophisticated people in basic theatre theory! Reason the first, lots of people don't actually know that there IS theory behind Theatre Studies. Secondly, it will help me to revise if I try and explain it to others and thirdly if I have to suffer it, so do you. I do realise that now that I've mentioned the word 'educate' I've lost about three quarters of my readership. It's ok. You don't have to learn anything if you don't want to, don't cry.

So, here are the three main practitioners in Theatre Studies 101:

Bertolt Brecht: German. Tried to motivate people into taking a stand against social and political injustice and changing the world around them. "Philosophers have explained the world, it is our job to change it. He does through reminding the audience (and the actors) that they are watching a play. He does not allow the audience to get too involved with the Characters emotions, because this would detract from the issues presented. However, this is not to say that Brecht's works are not engaging or entertaining, as they often make use of musical numbers and satirical comedy. If you see a Brecht play, you're usually guarenteed a night of entertainment and fun that will show you clearly the wrongs of society.

Brecht(ian) plays you might like to see:- The Resistable Rise of Arturo Ui, Oh What a Lovely War, Our Country's Good

Constantine Stanislavsky: Russian. Attempted to make a play on the stage as close to being a slice of life as possible. Often associated with realist playwrites such as Chekhov and Ibson, Stanislavsky's techniques make the actors become the character, in a 'become the tree, be the tree style' drawing on their own emotions to make the character believable. Everything on the stage is made to be as realistic as possible, so that the audience can truely believe that they are watching a slice of life upon the stage and suspend their disbelief.

Stanislavsky method acting plays you might want to see:- The Cherry Orchard, The Seagull, Three Sisters

Antonin Artaud: French. Certified mentally insane. Heroin addict. See, this guy is the juicy one. This is the one with all the scandal and the stories! Unfortunately, the incredible ideas he had for the Theatre were practically impossible to apply. Artaud wanted to make people feel. Theatre should be like a 'plague' in his eyes. An experience that the audience have as one, being knocked down by the 'cruelty' of a play and then coming out of the theatre feeling stronger for the experience, like having a nasty cold and then your immune system being stronger for it. Artaudian theatre often concentrates on ritual and movement. Language plays a lesser role in this type of theatre, with visual effect taking the fore. He was crazy, was Artaud.
Artaudian plays you may want to see:- A Spurt of Blood, Cleansed, Hamletmachine (Although I highly recommend NOT seeing Hamletmachine, as it is, in my opinion a load of RUBBISH)

Anyway, there is a brief overview of Theatre Theory. It is by no stretch of the imagination complete, but just enough to show you how much thought goes into the making of a piece of theatre. It's not all pretentious prancing around a stage, you know. (Well, unless it's Hamletmachine.)

(Don't worry, I'll try to make the next blog more interesting. With cars and explosions and stuff. Seriously stop crying now.)

Free Music!

A music section has been added to the site for you to have a listen to some of the music that I've made. Enjoy.

Here's a little synopsis (or, as I like to continually call them, a 'run down') of the songs on offer. Please tell me if you like, and who knows at some point I might even make an EP. Well that is if everyone isn't falling on the floor laughing and saying 'he calls THAT music?'

So, here we go:

• Jet - The first song I made with my new recording equiptment. Very short, I was hoping it would be longer, but can't bring myself to add to it. I'm quite proud of the spaciness of this track, I like how it's mixed.
• Good Morning Sunshine Radio - Oh dear. This was when I decided that I would like to have a go at a rap. Well, I think the rap itself came out very well, apart from the fact that the lyrics mean absolutely nothing and I didn't have the voice for it. I'm not cool enough to do that. However, I think the instrumentation on it is quite good, especially the shift at the end of the verse from guitar to a rather chilled and relaxed keyboard sound.
• Phantom Night - A love song about a very special night of my life. Somehow there's a fair amount of static on this track, but I like to think that it' adds to the atmosphere of the song. I know, I'm in denial. Still, I love the ending. I know it's my own song, but I'm really quite proud of that. It's just the effect I hoped to acheive.
• The Day The TV Died - This song has been kicking around for AGES. I finally got it down, and it's been one of the most popular songs I've written. I like the lyrics, and the backing vocals on the chorus as they add a kind of homelyness to it. Morissey inspired the way that it is sung. I don't know if you can tell. Probably not, I don't sound pretentious enough to be Morrisey.
• The Great Pretenders - Another love song. This one was written for a special girl (sorry, gone all soppy on you there, but it's true!) and is as 'emo' as it comes. Again, the backing vocals on this song are quite good, I feel and the ending is also something I take pride in.

Well, that's my music for now. I might add more as I make it. Also, as I say, if there is any interest (which I doubt there will be) leave a comment and I'll consider making a CD. Thank you for appeasing my urge to pretend I'm a musician.

Bobbikk

Knowing Me, Knowing You... Ah ha!

Since I'm a greedy little guy who wants more than he needs, I've added a lovely little link to my Amazon wishlist! I know how you've all been wanting to send me lovely gifts for giving you hours of entertainment and joy.

Somehow I sincerely doubt that, but it's there anyway, just in case you want to buy me something randomly, or have a look at the things I'm into so you can get a better picture of me as a person for more effective stalking. That's right, don't think I didn't see you hiding behind the bins yesterday!

Anyway since all you lovely people know just that little bit more about me now, I would like to ask you all a favour. Would you send an e-mail to Who_am_I?@bobbikk.co.uk just introducing yourself and the country and city you came from? It'd be nice to know who's reading my blog. You could even tell me your interests if you wanted and I might write a blog dedicated to you!

Yeah, I know, this ain't the best blog, but it's been a slow week and it's a case of 'anything other than doing revision'. Which reminds me, I have revision to do. Damn.

Bobbikk

Exam Fever

Get nervous. Get very nervous. You think you're just reading a blog at the moment, but no, you better prepare yourself, because you're about to enter... my personal life! I know, I know, lightning is now raining down around your house, and one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse is knocking at your window asking if he can come in for a cup of tea and slice of death. Sorry.

So anyway, yes here's the small bit of personal information: I had my first university exam yesterday. Yes, on a Saturday. Believe me it could have been worse, at least it was in the morning. Still, it wasn't as bad as I thought it could be. However, there was one small thing that scared the living crap out of me. The front cover. Now during A-levels and GCSE's we were babysat through our exams by our teachers, lovely as they were. They'd tell you what to write on the front cover, when to write it, what your candidate number was if you forgot, hell they'd tell you your own name if your memory was a little slow on the day. This is not so at university though, where exams are just that little bit more like a military death camp. They bring you in, sit you down (feeling a bit like sheep), get out your library card so that they know you're you (Although, come on, WHO is going to sit an exam if they don't have to? 'Hello! Yes! Me! I like two and a half to three hours of soul purging torture a day! Thank you!') Then you take a quick glance at the overly complicated front cover of the booklet in front of you.

"It'll be ok," you think to yourself, "they'll guide me through it."

BAM! "You may begin"

WHAT? But I haven't even put my name on the paper!

And thus the stress of exams is added to. I mean, what's the point of doing the exam if they don't even know who you are?

I'd like to issue an apology at this point. If anyone heard dispairing sobbing from behind them during their exam yesterday, that was me. And I hadn't even opened the booklet at that point. It's my own fault. When it comes to forms I regress to the age of two. If there's some kind of ref., i.d. or any other kind of number, I can guarentee you I don't know what it is. And if I do, I'll get it wrong. And God help me when I come to my D.o.B. number...

Despite this, I finished the exam, with a little time to spare (about half a minute, so no point in checking. Even though I know you should.) So I checked the 'regulations' at the front of the booklet. "All rough work must be done in pencil and crossed out carefully." Hear that? Yes, my dear friends, that is the sound of exam bureaucracy kicking me when I'm down. Thud. Thud. Bastards.

Nevermind. I'm sure I won't get penalised for using a pen, will I? Then again, these are the people who will penalise you if you print your work on a slightly darker shade of white paper if it isn't referenced properly...

Bobbikk

Did You Miss Me?

I must have the giggles at the moment, because I went to see two bands play last week. (gettit? GIGgles! hee hee... I'm so witty.) Which is the reason that I haven't been posting. I've been at home and travelling from their to Manchester. They were both very good, but I'll give you a lovely little rundown of what each was like:

The Cooper Temple Clause

Good Gig! I must admit I was a bit tired for this one, as was my girlfriend Sara, and we couldn't really concentrate or be overly supportive of the band, but then to be honest, as is expected with the crowd that follows the Coopers many of them looked thoroughly unimpressed so we blended in perfectly. All the stuff we knew was fantastic. They did brilliant renditions of 'Talking to a Brick Wall', 'Promises Promises', 'New Toys', 'Blind Pilots' and 'The Same Mistakes'. They're faultless in these older tracks, keeping all the atmosphere and energy of the album versions but with just that little something special that makes it amazing. Two slight dissapointments though, in the fact that they didn't play one of our favourite songs 'Did You Miss Me?' even after we heard the sample that starts it off. Secondly, they played just a little too much of their new tracks, which when tired were a bit har to take in. However, the one song encore that they did of 'Panzer Attack' was incredible. I usually don't really like that song, but they transformed it on stage from an overly violent and noisy track to an almost hypnotic and trance inducing, atmospheric and mildly threatening song. Awesome. Truely awesome.


Funeral For A Friend

Before I talk about Funeral for a Friend I must say about the band who supported them. Good ol' Fightstar! Well, that was good for a laugh! We think, but are not sure (it could have been the first band that played, the Lunapins) they got egged. Really that shouldn't have happened to anyone. Even Fightstar. To be fair, Fightstar were very good, except for Charlie. The backing singers can sing... unfortunately Charlie cannot. The backing musicians can play their instruments... unfortunately Charlie cannot (as far as I could see and hear). They'd be better off without him.

Anyway, on to the main attraction! The welsh boys were fantastic! I knew and was bopping (that's right, BOPPING) along to many of the songs, often singing along. Whether I was in key or not, I don't know, so anyone who was by me and wished they weren't, I'm terribly sorry. They were a great band sounding as good as on their CDs. They announced that they will have another LP for us next year, so I look forward to that greatly! The highlights of the gig for me were, Juneau, Recovery, Streetcar, All The Rage and Escape Artists Never Die. I hope to see the talented lads again at some point.

Oh, I also found out lately that I might have been ignorant in my last blog. The papers may have been having a go at Prescott for playing croquet whilst he should have been running the country. Obviously it is ok to have a go at Prescott for this reason, because this doesn't mean then that he is being raged at for portraying the wrong image, but for being an arse. Which is fair. Because if you saw him on Tax the Fat last night then you'd agree that he's an arse.

Bobbikk