Shimura Curves

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Is It Just Spring Or Are The Boys Actually Getting Cuter?

So what is it? Is it the nip in the air? The sunshine? Some hormonal rush caused by lambing season and fresh air and estrogen in the water supply?

Boys are horrible! They're annoying, frustrating, irritating and they smell faintly of goats. Yet somehow, lately, is it me, or have they become the most fasinating thing in the world to look at? Bah. Make it stop, the pointy noses and the jawlines and the set of their skinny shoulders, slouched in tweed jackets.

I've demoed two new(ish) songs. Not Afraid or Unified or whatever I'm going to end up calling the song about the Grand Unification Theory has turned into a lovely, space-shuffle with whispery vocals and cooing angel harmonies of the spheres. I can't stop listening to it! And Pwned (AMP's first lyrical Shimuras credit) has turned into a joyous stomp with crazy West African guitar and video game noises and even a computerised voice at the end going "SHIMURA CURVES WINS AGAIN, AH HA HA HA!!!" (thanks, Stephen Hawking Percy the Laptop.) It even makes *me* want to beat boys at videogames and I *hate* games!

We seem to have booked more shows, too. It turns out that Marianna is going to see Take That on the 10th May, so we are playing at How Does It Feel To Be Loved on the 11th May. Hurrah. We're on first so we can get drunk afterwards. Excellent!

Anyway, here's another totally gratuitous picture of Dylan Moran. Sigh.

Oh yeah, some cnut who doesn't even like him Steve Mannion of ILX* wrote this, presumably as a dis on to why woman are attracted to him: The accent obviously, it is great - charming and effortlessly seductive. He looks like he desperately needs feeding/looking after...but comfortable with it. Wild eyes, the look of a man who slept in the street after some random drunken adventures, the craving for hedonistic excess and gay abandon, recklessness, but also the blatant passion and belief in ideas, standards (however contradictory), the evidence of intelligence (specs, plus rantings about Chaucer or whatever) despite ridiculous, chaotic way of living suggesting shades of genius, unpredictable, emotional... God, am I that predictable? Honestly, I can't wait until this is all over and I'm miserable and happy again.

*apologies for not quoting name, chapter and verse previously. Apparently this makes me a "creepy stalker" - though honestly, what's more "creepy" - commenting on something you read on a message board, or obsessively reading (and commenting on) the blog of someone you claim to dislike?


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