THE EARTH IS FILLED WITH VIOLENCE?
WHERE IS CYRANO?
VINCENT AND THEO (AND MURRAY?)
CAN I OFFER YOU A REFRESHER?
AM I HOW THIS IS?
DO YOU WANT TO LIVE WITH ME IN MY PARENT'S BASEMENT?
ILLEGIBLE EMOTION/IF THE MEANING OF LIFE IS TO FIND THE MEANING OF LIFE WHAT DOES THIS MEAN; IS IT LIKE 'THE JOKE IS THERE IS NO JOKE' OR 'THE POINT IS THERE IS NO POINT' OR SOMETHING?
WHAT ARE WE?
WHO HAS THE KEY TO THE LACTATION ROOM?
WHOSE GODDAMN OATMEAL IS THIS?
IS THERE A WAY NOT TO SWEAT WHILE SLEEPING?
WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING EVERY MONDAY MORNING WHEN WE WAKE UP?
WHO IS MARK WHALBERG?
AT WHAT POINT DOES LATE NIGHT BECOME EARLY MORNING?
WHAT ARE THE SIDE EFFECTS OF BIRTH CONTROL?
WHERE DO YOU WANT TO GO TODAY?
ARE YOU LOOKIN' AT MY BIRD?
WHAT WILL WE DO TONIGHT?
WHEN WILL I FINALLY DIE?
Saturday, 29 August 2009
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Friday, 21 August 2009
I was quite pleased with the collection and enthusiastic about showing it to people and people seemed to be enjoying it. I was sending it out to some people I did not know and had no contact with previously.
Someone emailed me back and was not very happy that I had sent it to them. This made me feel pretty bad, like I had done something wrong, that I had invaded someone's privacy, and that is a thing you cannot undo.
Then I thought about it a bit more. If you write and put stuff out there, online, and you want people to like what you do, and people do like what you write, and you post your email address, I think that it is ok to send them an email.
I would like it if people emailed me. Strangers. So long as it is something nice.
I would also like it if people wanted to 'chat' with me. Gmail. I am too nervous to invite people to chat a lot of the time. I have no intention of publishing our conversations somewhere on the internet, unless somehow our conversation stumbles upon something incredibly insightful, which is unlikely.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Last night I suffered the deepest paper cut on record. A piece of paper sliced straight through my hand and left me with no fingers. I reattached them with sticky tape and they seem to be ok now. I hope they heel fully. I like my fingers. They are useful.
xTxTxTx put up a story I wrote for her elephant season. It is called Dumbo and it is short enough to read without thinking 'get to the fucking point already' and smashing your face into the computer screen. The 'Elephant Summer' thing has been a lot of good stuff over a short period of time and you should stop being a jerk and look at it already.
Had a thing accepted for the next episode of The Lifted Brow which is both fly and dope because The Lifted Brow is the shit and also because there will be something by Douglas Coupland in there and that makes me laugh until my stomach bleeds and I have to go to hospital for an operation and the doctors say 'what the hell is so funny? you are dying, you know that right?' and I just smile at them and then fade away. The current issue has a picture I drawed in it.
Would anyone like to read a collection I have started working on? It was supposed to be a self-help book of short quotes, but it isn't really that at all. I want you to see it. Email me. chriseast83[AT]gmail.com
I am interested in you. Tell me something interesting.
Friday, 14 August 2009
Someone else, more senior than me, and definitely getting paid more than me, has just announced she will also be leaving. I am pretty sure this is not out of support for my situation. She thought it would be nice to send a gushing email of praise and crap to the whole building, y'know the kind of thing, 'wonderful experience' and 'a pleasure to know ya', that stuff. Well, in my infinite wisdom I have decided to remix the email and make it more palatable for those with sensitive teeth.
(edits have been made to protect indentities of the parties involved)
Just to let all you fucking arseholes know that I'm leaving at Christmas. It has been a rollercoaster ride of shit over the last eight years and I have taken the decision that now is the time for me to fucking jump ship before it explodes, sinks and you all die.
I am incredibly proud of my time here. I have wasted so much time, but with incredibly high production values. I feel honoured to have 'made dreams work' for disableds and the elderly, both of whom I value less than the dozen cats I will be spending the rest of my life stroking. We have imposed the most amazing depths of depravity and most hollow and emotionless of work for our Northamptonshire audiences. I love the flexibility of our staff and buildings so we can be
doing comedy one night, classical music the next, then onto a piece of sadistic and perverted exploitation targeted at escaped sex criminals. Our creative projects are just shit. It has been an embarrassment watching some idiot lead the team and develop patronising pieces for under 6's. I do genuinely believe the redevelopment provided us with a hole in the ground, an eyesore, a giant wicker man of a building which is waiting to be burnt down with all you bastards inside. I still get a sick thrill every time I walk through the staff door into the foyer. It still has the stench of disappointment in the air, even after nearly three years. The team of circus freaks, you know, three legs,
half a head, breath that smells like a pile of dead babies, well those guys do an amazing job maintaining how it looks and feels. By which I mean, I feel so dirty all the time. I loved the new company that emerged from the stacks of burning bodies with new values to deliver our artistic abortions and half arsed
customer service through Passion, Accountability, Respect and Inclusion.
I will miss you all.
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
A little while ago I read that book, The Brandon Book Crisis, and I decided I wanted to throw it in the sea because I did not want it near me anymore but then I did not do that because I got really nervous about throwing stuff in the sea off the side of a commercial vessel and thought someone would approach me and say something like Did you just throw some some crap into the sea? and I would have to think really hard about the question and probably decide that yes I did throw some crap into the sea and then I would have to run away really fast before the sea police came to arrest me for sea littering.
I still have the book. Does anyone want it? If someone sends me a trade they can have it. I feel sick thinking about it.
Tuesday, 11 August 2009
Emo. I am having a shitty week so far. It is only a day old. I am filled with a desire to rip people's limbs from their body. I said "I want to find out if these hands have strength to pull flesh from bone." I said "I want to punch her head off her shoulders." I said "I want to use this illness for evil."
I have a cold and it is painful and I feel like my nose has been blown red raw and that the inside of my face is a smouldering mess. I feel like my sinuses have been fucked by a massive virus dick. I feel like I do not really know what a 'sinuses' is.
Sometimes I feel so dumb and that I do not understand what other people want or feel. I think that I am having a nice time, that we are having a nice time, that everyone is happy and things are going well and everything might just turn out ok, only to find that I have somehow jumped ahead about four steps and have ruined everything. I am forever in a constant state of confusion.
I have had confirmed what I always suspected, that employers aint about shit. I have been fucked about. God. Write something funny. Working is for the fucking proletariat and baby I am above that shit. I am smoke. I am outta here. I have one month. I am a rocket ship on my way to Mars on a collision course, set to explode on impact with the faces of every douche that has kept a good man down.
I will be thinking of you.
On the other hand, I will soon be prodding and poking the kitten mention in this post.