Welcome to my cosy little attic. I hope you feel at home. Feel free to navigate. I hope my insanity is catching. Comments are more than welcome.
What's Up (so don't ask)
30/10/04 The Dude left us - RIP
15/03/05 I turn 18... start counting my grey hairs
16/05/05 Last Exam. Forever, I hope.
21/05/05 Jack Johnson Concert - KickAss
25/05/05 I graduate... maybe
07/06/05 Kaz turns 18. About time bro.
Ok, I realise that I haven't posted in ages, due to a lack of internet availability chez moi, but worry not. I'm back.
I still don't have internet at home, so now I'm in Scully's office on his iMac. I'm sure it's actually the school's iMac, but try to convince Scully of that. For the sake of brevity, and entertainment, I will resort to my headline-esque form of blogging.
Savage/Love - Really/Good On the eve of November 26, the year 13 Theatre Arts group, known as the Tarts for both obvious and behavioral reasons, finally performed their, well, performance which has been in the making for nigh on 2 months. Yes, it may seem that 2 months is plenty of time to prepare what would eventually become a twenty minute smorgasbord of simbolic, poetic and always beautful theatre. However, one must remember that the cast included a certain Geert, who is known to be able to significantly slow down any process, no matter how simple it may be. Savage/Love, by Sam Shepard, is a collection of short poems which are intended for the stage, which allows for 100% interpretation by the performers. There are to stage directions, and so no hints for the students who directed the scenes. Despite this, they pulled through. Not only did they direct, but some of them took on extra tasks to assure the quality of the show. Isabel did set design, set buying and set building. Margarida made the posters and tickets, which weren't seen by anyone else until a day before the show... great help they were. And Geert was in charge of lighting, without a doubt the toughest job. Not only did he have to figure out which plug was which light, he had to organise the lighting board and ... so on and so forth. This was not only a night of really, really wierd theatre, but music, comedy and poetry. A wonderfully original rendition of 'No Woman No Cry' was sung, and it was frickity good, and Sydney graced us with three of her orinigal songs. There was more, but the wine I've been stealing from tables is going to my head and I'm having trouble remembering. For those who missed it, the word on the street is: 'your loss'
A Desire Named Street For those who recognize the pun in the title, I hope you enjoyed it. For those who didn't, better luck next time. For 9 long years, Geert and his family have resided on a street that had no street connecting it to the outside world... for 9 long years, Geert had to endure a bumpy ride along a bumpy road (figures, dunnit?) every time he left or came home. Thank goodness, he cried, when contruction of a small condominium began across from chez him. "For certain, they must build a road", he said in his most Shakespearian voice. He did not, could not, know that construction would continue for a futher 3 years, with no hint of a road. However, upon returning home after a hard day's napping in classes, he was shocked to discover that, as he stepped out of the car, for the first time in almost a decade, he didn't nearly twist his ankle on some wierd rock. He felt around, unsure of what lay beneath him. Could it be... no, surely not. It's not... asphalt, is it? As it turns out, twas indeed. The road is big and black, and finally gives the residents of that small road in that small town the feeling of living in, or near to, civilization. The parties raged for days, but was broken up by neighbors from other streets who claimed that it was "just a street... jesus, relax". Bah Humbug.
Finding Nemo's Remains For days, Geert noticed odd behaviour from his fish, that's fish in the plural, I know it's hard to tell with words like fish and sheep and 'dead deer by the side of the road'. But I digress. The fish were witnessed swimming upside down (no kidding) and trying to dig (or, as Eddie Izzard would claim, drill) down. Within days, two of the fish died. The other's body was never found, though the terrapins were looking mighty proud of themselves. These fish had been part of the pond in Geert's garden, which would win many awards if only the award people would return my pigeons, and added to an atmosphere of calm. They would swim by the terrapins, Dido and Aeneas, always in closer formation than a squadron of bombers, though less deadly. The cause of death has been traced to a sudden 'cleaning' of the pond, where all the plantlife was removed (well, all the green muck that had grown on the sides) and all the water changed. This proved too much for the small fish, who were accustomed to the serenity of the green. Perhaps the new 'clean' white was too surgical in appearance for them, and havin seen Finding Nemo (of course I let them watch) they feared for the fate of any fish residing in a surgical environment. They will be remembered fondly, and their remains will no doubt be fondled by the cat who will no doubt dig them up. Swim on, little dudes, swim on.
Geert Chairs IMUN: "Wow", Says Parents As was forewarned by previous posts on the Random Ramblings site, Geert chaired the final issue of the 10th Iberian Model United Nations conference. Despite, ahem, fucking up at first, he quickly took charge and managed to get through the issue without anyone coming up and desecrating the resolution at hand by turning it into an origami bird. Seriously, who does that? It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience, Geert said, who regretted that he would nevermore be a part of the nerdy wildlife of MUN. Goodbye. he says, and be good. Just to be cheeky, he added: "but if you can't be good, be safe". Typical...
And so I sign off for now. I hope you enjoyed this late post, but the show (Savage/Love) has ended, and I must away to Olivia's.
Be good.
But if you can't, be safe.
G
