I don’t really want to say anything, so I guess we can say that kitschbitch is going on a bit of a break.
Archives - December 2001
I don’t really want to say anything, so I guess we can say that kitschbitch is going on a bit of a break.
literary wonders can just fuck off.
and the not-so-literary ones too. before I immerse myself in weighty tomes of elizabethan and jacobean dramatic and poetic masterpieces, I’m reading some well-earned crap. and by crap, I don’t mean crap. I mean nice and fluffy stuff. that requires little to no attention. aaaaaaaah, fluff. hence harry potter. and girlfriend 44.
the premise of the latter is basically this amazing, luminous, goddess-like woman who waltzes into the lives of two flatmates. blah blah blah. but it’s the sodding descriptions that fuck me right off. no matter what she wears, no matter what she does, she’s so goddamn luminous. protagonist looks at her, and boom! he’s in love. she’s his golden girl, his number one, she haunts his every waking moment, yadda yadda yadda.
there’s always one. take any romantic classic, and the heroine is always so bloody luminous. with that undescribable and inexplicable quality which makes her so frickin perfect.
can’t she get a pimple? or get really fucked off and grouchy one morning because she’s slept through the alarm and has to rush out the house all minging and dishevelled, instead of glowing and looking deliciously rumpled and fresh whilst giggling coquettishly?
grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
think I’ll go back to harry potter. I suspect that hermione might not arouse such ire in me.
notable quotables
The eleventh commandment – thou shalt not be found out – is the only one that is virtually impossible to keep these days (Berta Buxton)
literary wonders can just fuck off.
and the not-so-literary ones too. before I immerse myself in weighty tomes of elizabethan and jacobean dramatic and poetic masterpieces, I’m reading some well-earned crap. and by crap, I don’t mean crap. I mean nice and fluffy stuff. that requires little to no attention. aaaaaaaah, fluff. hence harry potter. and girlfriend 44.
the premise of the latter is basically this amazing, luminous, goddess-like woman who waltzes into the lives of two flatmates. blah blah blah. but it’s the sodding descriptions that fuck me right off. no matter what she wears, no matter what she does, she’s so goddamn luminous. protagonist looks at her, and boom! he’s in love. she’s his golden girl, his number one, she haunts his every waking moment, yadda yadda yadda.
there’s always one. take any romantic classic, and the heroine is always so bloody luminous. with that undescribable and inexplicable quality which makes her so frickin perfect.
can’t she get a pimple? or get really fucked off and grouchy one morning because she’s slept through the alarm and has to rush out the house all minging and dishevelled, instead of glowing and looking deliciously rumpled and fresh whilst giggling coquettishly?
grrrrrrrrrrrrr.
think I’ll go back to harry potter. I suspect that hermione might not arouse such ire in me.
notable quotables
The eleventh commandment – thou shalt not be found out – is the only one that is virtually impossible to keep these days (Berta Buxton)
