I was in town today, looking for a belt and a long sleeve t-shirt (I have this sweet wooly jumper which is just a tad too itchy to wear at the moment), but I couldn't find either. Seems like you can only get a belt from Primark if you buy trousers to go with it, and they only really had thin crappy jumpers and no long sleeve t-shirts in sight (apart from a couple with really shitty, stupid looking collars).
While I was down there I went to Superdrug to look for Cherry Coke, and found "Cracker Drinks", some sort of fancy looking fruit juice. Cracker, also a pejorative for white person:
"Cracker".
Guess they have their target audience figured out up front. Even if you ignore that as being strictly an American insult and not applicable in Britain, I hardly think any of the other connotations that the word carries are any better; a gritty cop series? Crack cocaine? Someone/something that breaks limbs? I just don't know what they were going for. Probably not a good time to launch an overexpensive health drink, either.
Creative writing is really pissing me off. Yesterday I attended a class which I thought was going to be one of the four hour workshops but turned out to be another of Jim Stewart's bore-a-thons. Pointless, pedantic and a complete waste of time - this week we were looking at a 2 page extract from No Country For Old Men for almost an hour, with the smartarses in the class all crawling over themselves to argue that it was fast paced, or wasn't fast paced, or that Chighur was enjoying himself, or that he wasn't etc... I left half way through, I couldn't stand it. It seems the reason I got confused was because the workshop was actually scheduled for last week, or it would have been if Kirsty Gunn hadn't switched it for a "down the line" (her retarded way of saying "online", ie via email) tutorial, which basically consisted of me sending her a writing piece last Thursday and her only just getting back to me today, with a couple of paragraphs of advice, only after I sent her an email reminding her she hadn't bothered to answer.
On top of this I have an essay to write for next Tuesday, based on a text chosen from a great big list they provided. None of the texts are by authors we have ever studied; there's no advice about what the essay should roughly be about. Just a "Get on with it, everything is explained in the manual!" said in Kirsty Gunn's lazy, dumb hippy voice.
So that'll be fun.
I might compare Mrs Dalloway to Aliens or something, see how they get on with that.
Anyway, better wrap up this rant fest.
Cheerio!
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