Fire Fire
A severe fire in the ESC department basically demolished the entire faculty, which, up until now had been the leading research centre in the UK.
So, er, greetings from the land of Soton, kids.
My words seem to have dried up as of late, which isn't really helping my eloquence in terms of anything. I'm finally at the institution that they term 'university'. Is it all it's cracked up to be? Well only time can really answer such frivolous a question. My room isn't that much of a hole but it could certainly do with a lick of paint and a helping hand from Linda Barker. I really should have brought my stash of previous Teen Vogues for inspiration. For the most part, it resembles something from a women's correctional facility. The only thing that suggests a hint of welcoming ambience are the fairy lights, which remind me of home. And o'double bed, how I miss thee like a Sunday roast from Queen's. The skylight, however much it is plastered in bird shit, has glimmering potential to be remotely neat. I've noticed that on a clear night, amidst the trees which obscure most of the view, you can make out traces of stars; odd speckles of white, incandescent dust scattered across vast stretches of sky. This reminds me of when I used to be good friends with Dan and we'd go back to his after work and discuss the frustrations of our respective love lives. Or the times when I'd spend many an evening in the park with Em, idly messing about on the swings like we were ten years old again whilst mentally, our conversation would verge on the philosophical, and occasionally we'd just denounce trivial subject matter. Like what a bastard Andy could be or just how calculating most men in general really are. This makes me smile.
I cannot think to describe the people here other than decent human beings. It's like the macrocosm of Huish, which can only be a good thing. The vast majority are very genteel and convivial although a handful chose to be incredibly self-indulgent and make up for what they lack in looks by way of pompousness. I haven't been a muse in such a long time, I miss being inspired and inspiring others. Time passes alarmingly quick here. The turn of summer into autumn was a sudden revelation. There was something in the air; I could smell it's acute yet unmistakeable hint of electricity as I walked home from late afternoon lectures. And it wasn't the storms either.
And you know what? The only person I have been vaguely attracted to here is Richard, a Music major, who is in fact a completely rude and arrogant dickhead. I miss being in love. I miss that it was once reciprocated, despite the fact that selfishness almost ruined five wonderful friendships with people I now think of as brothers. I hate unwanted attention from old men or boring ugly people who do not have the slightest aptitude for a conversation other than some crude discourse into their sexual conquests. I think of Nick and Jessie and wish my life were as complete as theirs appears to be. I'm disgustingly sentimental, ugh.
So, er, greetings from the land of Soton, kids.
My words seem to have dried up as of late, which isn't really helping my eloquence in terms of anything. I'm finally at the institution that they term 'university'. Is it all it's cracked up to be? Well only time can really answer such frivolous a question. My room isn't that much of a hole but it could certainly do with a lick of paint and a helping hand from Linda Barker. I really should have brought my stash of previous Teen Vogues for inspiration. For the most part, it resembles something from a women's correctional facility. The only thing that suggests a hint of welcoming ambience are the fairy lights, which remind me of home. And o'double bed, how I miss thee like a Sunday roast from Queen's. The skylight, however much it is plastered in bird shit, has glimmering potential to be remotely neat. I've noticed that on a clear night, amidst the trees which obscure most of the view, you can make out traces of stars; odd speckles of white, incandescent dust scattered across vast stretches of sky. This reminds me of when I used to be good friends with Dan and we'd go back to his after work and discuss the frustrations of our respective love lives. Or the times when I'd spend many an evening in the park with Em, idly messing about on the swings like we were ten years old again whilst mentally, our conversation would verge on the philosophical, and occasionally we'd just denounce trivial subject matter. Like what a bastard Andy could be or just how calculating most men in general really are. This makes me smile.
I cannot think to describe the people here other than decent human beings. It's like the macrocosm of Huish, which can only be a good thing. The vast majority are very genteel and convivial although a handful chose to be incredibly self-indulgent and make up for what they lack in looks by way of pompousness. I haven't been a muse in such a long time, I miss being inspired and inspiring others. Time passes alarmingly quick here. The turn of summer into autumn was a sudden revelation. There was something in the air; I could smell it's acute yet unmistakeable hint of electricity as I walked home from late afternoon lectures. And it wasn't the storms either.
And you know what? The only person I have been vaguely attracted to here is Richard, a Music major, who is in fact a completely rude and arrogant dickhead. I miss being in love. I miss that it was once reciprocated, despite the fact that selfishness almost ruined five wonderful friendships with people I now think of as brothers. I hate unwanted attention from old men or boring ugly people who do not have the slightest aptitude for a conversation other than some crude discourse into their sexual conquests. I think of Nick and Jessie and wish my life were as complete as theirs appears to be. I'm disgustingly sentimental, ugh.