'Shall it then be unavailing, all this toil for human culture?'

Hah! I have plunged a pike deep into the heart of university! Actually, that pike might as well be landing itself into my backside for writing a journal entry as opposed to writing an essay on Robinson Crusoe.

Where do I start? Well, I miss breakfast. It's been about three days now without milk and bread (as you can see, it has made me loose what little sanity I possess) and to top it all off, my washing machine is broken. So, I'm a starving stinky irascble arty farty boy.

Lately I've been stealing precious moments from the chaos of everyday life to find my own faraway paradise, my solace in at least one creative outlet a day. As my Gmail has been filling up with a plethora of e-mails from SoulFoodCafe, I decided I might actually follow one of the links that have been so propogandistically (is that a word?) requesting my undivided attention.

Let's just say I got more than a little bit of inspiration, and a dash of Greek mythology to go with it: [link]

"Oh Prometheus, My Prometheus!", I dare cry! Boy, I do feel sorry for the poor sods around me that have to hear the clink and clank of my fingers on the crusty public keyboard.
I recommend that you, my viewers (ego, ego, ego...) take a look at one page of S-F-C at some stage in your busy day. I don't necessarily agree with Heather Blakey's opinions on some particular representations of history or cult-emerging tenor and mode, but it is nonetheless quite inspiring.

Hah. I'm actually skipping my ENGL2011 lecture to write this. Can you blame me? The lecturer is a pleasantly aged geriatric with more than a fair share of temperament... and a monotone to boot. Of course, I fall victim to negative prejudging - I'm sure that he is a lovely person outside the Central Lecture Block 8.

Wow, how cynical I have become. I was walking to university this morning and was unpleasantly stopped in my tracks by a suede-decked bus full of Year 10 individuals (I did warn you that I'm cynical and rather arrogant this morning!) that decided to terrorise my campus with girlish giggling and teachers bedazzled by not only the sheer immensity of the complex, but the fact there are 20-something year old students with a greater propensity for life than they (that was harsh, I take that back).
Anyway, I don't know what makes me so irritable about the prospect of high school students getting their first taste for university life... probably the fact that they absentmindedly visit the outrageously expensive, privately-owned university food stores first and spend excessively beyond their own wallets. Or perhaps it is the fact they walk in horribly orderly cues of two like the good school trained animals they are (whoops, I'm getting very rough...). I don't know about you, but when I walk to uni, I tend to travel in all sorts of directions and varying speeds.
For example, if I have a Linguistics lecture, I'll walk so slow that God would be ashamed he gave me legs. On the other hand, I'll dash in zigzags and moonwalks to get to Esme's for a half-decent - albeit burnt - coffee and char-grilled slice of banana bread with Jasmin.

Oh dear, time is marching on! And what do I have to show for my 30 minutes of used time? A wonderfully explorative journal entry (heh, yeah...) for eager viewers.

I know I've been rather behind on the updates about Caelestis Diluculo, but I am still working on it... just in funny increments. Asinsofar, I've decided to merge the works with my friend Marcus, so that the work is not simply a personal reflection but a collective effort (okay, I lie... I asked if he would like to include some of his poems in - he did, I formatted and entered them.)

Before your eyeballs turn into molten lava from the incessant ravings of me without breakfast, I think I will go off and actually attempt some criticism of Robinson Crusoe before PSYCH2001.
So, to you...

-Vale!