ok, so i wrote this a few weeks back as an english assessment but since its the school holidays here (sydney), i havnt gotten feedback on it yet, so i figured i might post it here to get some feedback on it. i dont mean to seem... desperate for feedback... but, yeah its only natural since i worked so hard on it
its a bit pretentious, but here goes!
Humans: the po-mosical
conclusion
“I think the Rum Tum Tugger is just insecure about himself”
Ignoring Pimply, Blonde Highlights stares blankly at the coffee table in front of the television screen. Cats is too much of an ironic parallel. Pimply unpacks one celery stick from his backpack, ignoring the assortment of liquorice and gummies. Insecure. Right.
“You think Anton an’ JC are busy tonight?”
“Yes. I do think Antonio and Jesǔs are busy tonight”
Blonde Highlights has no intention of attending the Jellicle Ball tonight.
It must be nice being a cat and all. At least humans don’t sing about… What’s Cats about again?
Blonde Highlights falls asleep.
my name is sebastian
The leather jacket struts down Main Street. Blonde Highlights bumps into a speed hump sign. Beware of bump. Irony. The rotating red, blue, and white doesn’t catch his attention at all.
Swinging his black jacket to the left shoulder, he enters.
A pimply face greets him with caution. Ignorant children cannot differentiate black jackets and Goth. But what Goth has blonde highlights?
“Where’s Antonio?” Blonde Highlights ruffles his hair with his right hand. The black regrowth contrasts well with his jacket. Of course he knows this.
“Visiting a regular at the hospital, he‘ll be back for his next client tho’”
The middle-aged woman next in line overhears this and leaves. At least if anything happens he’ll visit you in the hospital, maybe even give you a nice wig…
“I take it she’s not a regular then?” coolly, indicating the vacated seat, only occupied now by an eight months old Cosmo.
“Sebastian”. Blonde Highlights motions for a handshake.
Pimply cocks his head to the right, eyebrows raised.
Slowly: “My name is Sebastian” retracting his hand.
dick is short for richard
Pimply’s eyes dart around the classroom, falling on the bored faces of his peers. Smugly he asks permission to read his work out aloud.
“In the corner of my room, no one loves me…”
He’s already in character.
“Jesus Christ! Richard, this isn’t another bullshit teen angst story is it?”
Scratching of pens and ripping of notebooks echoes around the room. Every teen writes about it. Staring at his teacher with spite; “No. It’s titled ‘The Pupil Kills the Mentor’”
Pimply’s formal education ends abruptly.
la vie Barbershop
“Stop complaining to me about being a misunderstood ‘Bohemian’”
Blonde Highlights walks faster. Avoiding conversation about school, teachers, classes, English, story writing, song writing, or any writing at all.
“Bohemian” is not an appropriate word to describe Pimply. “Impoverished” and “misunderstood” does not justify “bohemian”. Teen angst is so passé.
The anarchists are meeting in the town hall and the socialists are selling publications.
You are what you eat, and there sure is a lot of Thai food here.
Pimply follows Blonde Highlights closely down Main Street. Blonde Highlights ignores Pimply as Pimply disdainfully judges the Goths. How embarrassing. At least black is better than anything purple. Or orange. Or worse, purple and orange.
Enter the hairdressers. The pimply face appears from behind him and farewell’s Blonde Highlights. Why would he work here if he were afraid of Goths?
A customer enters. Blonde Highlights watches Pimply ask back, “What’s a dreadlock?”
The customer leaves. Maybe he’s better off flipping burgers.
it’s pronounced hē-sǔs
“Tell me Jesǔs” Blonde Highlights looks out the window, avoiding eye contact.
Looking down and out from the studio window, the red blue and white pole on the opposite side of the street looks so out of place to the outdoor umbrella heaters of the restaurants and café’s on either side of it.
Making eye contact now: “What’s with Pimply?” Blonde Highlights getting straight to the point.
“He calls me Jesus, isn’t that cool?” Jesǔs’ fascination with his own name was so trivial.
Blonde Highlights hums in agreement, “He does seem slow in picking up names”
Silence in the studio. Jesǔs is wearing pantyhose.
“So this is… Cats: The Musical: On Ice?” Blonde Highlights asks in amazement, returning to the usual casual tone of conversation between the two.
“Yes, yes, and by the end of the performance, all our heads will implode into rainbows and the smell of poppers will fill the arena” Jesǔs explains in the matter-of-factly tone.
“Jesus, Goddamit”
wrestling club or something just as homoerotic
Someone should have told Tyler to make liquid soap; it takes longer to pick up when dropped. I’m sure the Navy would make an investment on that too.
Blonde Highlights changes the television channel.
Antonio enjoys watching WWE. Blonde Highlights contemplates selling them some lubricant; he doesn’t see wrestling as very fun with friction slowing down the action. Blonde Highlights imagines John Cena doing the five knuckle shuffle without lube. Ouch.
Antonio’s script lies in front of Blonde Highlights:
“Dildos of every size imaginable line along the back wall”
Blonde Highlights stops reading. Who writes crap like this?
Lady Macbeth is not a dominatrix. A lesbian? Perhaps. I hope this is a joke.
No, Antonio probably isn’t going to succeed in starting up wrestling clubs for thespians. Just because they both have members that enjoy wearing tights, doesn’t mean they have anything else in common.
antonio is a lesbionic thespian
“Out Damned Spot!”
Lady Macbeth never had skin conditions like this. Antonio watches with curiosity as Pimply reads Cosmo. “Impoverished” and “misunderstood” does not automatically make a hairdresser. If only he knew sooner.
“How to choose the exfoliant for your unique skin”
Stupid kid had eight months to find an exfoliant, and he’s reading this article now?
“Weep No More, My Lady” sits at the vantage point of the magazine rack. Something for everyone: the gays don’t need advice on choosing exfoliant.
“Who’s Judy Garland?” the pimply face squints at the autobiography on the magazine rack.
Even less hairdresser potential then. Antonio’s tragedy.
10080 minutes
At least in Rent, something happened in 525600 minutes, that’s more that what I can attest to for Cats though.
He looks back on the week; Blonde Highlights made a new friend, learnt something new about Jesǔs, and read Antonio’s script. Maybe life doesn’t need a plot. Yes, it must be nice being a cat then. All you need are friends.
the second last chapter
“so can I go to your place tonight?”
Blonde Highlights looks back on the week and sighs.
“fine”
its a bit pretentious, but here goes!
Humans: the po-mosical
conclusion
“I think the Rum Tum Tugger is just insecure about himself”
Ignoring Pimply, Blonde Highlights stares blankly at the coffee table in front of the television screen. Cats is too much of an ironic parallel. Pimply unpacks one celery stick from his backpack, ignoring the assortment of liquorice and gummies. Insecure. Right.
“You think Anton an’ JC are busy tonight?”
“Yes. I do think Antonio and Jesǔs are busy tonight”
Blonde Highlights has no intention of attending the Jellicle Ball tonight.
It must be nice being a cat and all. At least humans don’t sing about… What’s Cats about again?
Blonde Highlights falls asleep.
my name is sebastian
The leather jacket struts down Main Street. Blonde Highlights bumps into a speed hump sign. Beware of bump. Irony. The rotating red, blue, and white doesn’t catch his attention at all.
Swinging his black jacket to the left shoulder, he enters.
A pimply face greets him with caution. Ignorant children cannot differentiate black jackets and Goth. But what Goth has blonde highlights?
“Where’s Antonio?” Blonde Highlights ruffles his hair with his right hand. The black regrowth contrasts well with his jacket. Of course he knows this.
“Visiting a regular at the hospital, he‘ll be back for his next client tho’”
The middle-aged woman next in line overhears this and leaves. At least if anything happens he’ll visit you in the hospital, maybe even give you a nice wig…
“I take it she’s not a regular then?” coolly, indicating the vacated seat, only occupied now by an eight months old Cosmo.
“Sebastian”. Blonde Highlights motions for a handshake.
Pimply cocks his head to the right, eyebrows raised.
Slowly: “My name is Sebastian” retracting his hand.
dick is short for richard
Pimply’s eyes dart around the classroom, falling on the bored faces of his peers. Smugly he asks permission to read his work out aloud.
“In the corner of my room, no one loves me…”
He’s already in character.
“Jesus Christ! Richard, this isn’t another bullshit teen angst story is it?”
Scratching of pens and ripping of notebooks echoes around the room. Every teen writes about it. Staring at his teacher with spite; “No. It’s titled ‘The Pupil Kills the Mentor’”
Pimply’s formal education ends abruptly.
la vie Barbershop
“Stop complaining to me about being a misunderstood ‘Bohemian’”
Blonde Highlights walks faster. Avoiding conversation about school, teachers, classes, English, story writing, song writing, or any writing at all.
“Bohemian” is not an appropriate word to describe Pimply. “Impoverished” and “misunderstood” does not justify “bohemian”. Teen angst is so passé.
The anarchists are meeting in the town hall and the socialists are selling publications.
You are what you eat, and there sure is a lot of Thai food here.
Pimply follows Blonde Highlights closely down Main Street. Blonde Highlights ignores Pimply as Pimply disdainfully judges the Goths. How embarrassing. At least black is better than anything purple. Or orange. Or worse, purple and orange.
Enter the hairdressers. The pimply face appears from behind him and farewell’s Blonde Highlights. Why would he work here if he were afraid of Goths?
A customer enters. Blonde Highlights watches Pimply ask back, “What’s a dreadlock?”
The customer leaves. Maybe he’s better off flipping burgers.
it’s pronounced hē-sǔs
“Tell me Jesǔs” Blonde Highlights looks out the window, avoiding eye contact.
Looking down and out from the studio window, the red blue and white pole on the opposite side of the street looks so out of place to the outdoor umbrella heaters of the restaurants and café’s on either side of it.
Making eye contact now: “What’s with Pimply?” Blonde Highlights getting straight to the point.
“He calls me Jesus, isn’t that cool?” Jesǔs’ fascination with his own name was so trivial.
Blonde Highlights hums in agreement, “He does seem slow in picking up names”
Silence in the studio. Jesǔs is wearing pantyhose.
“So this is… Cats: The Musical: On Ice?” Blonde Highlights asks in amazement, returning to the usual casual tone of conversation between the two.
“Yes, yes, and by the end of the performance, all our heads will implode into rainbows and the smell of poppers will fill the arena” Jesǔs explains in the matter-of-factly tone.
“Jesus, Goddamit”
wrestling club or something just as homoerotic
Someone should have told Tyler to make liquid soap; it takes longer to pick up when dropped. I’m sure the Navy would make an investment on that too.
Blonde Highlights changes the television channel.
Antonio enjoys watching WWE. Blonde Highlights contemplates selling them some lubricant; he doesn’t see wrestling as very fun with friction slowing down the action. Blonde Highlights imagines John Cena doing the five knuckle shuffle without lube. Ouch.
Antonio’s script lies in front of Blonde Highlights:
“Dildos of every size imaginable line along the back wall”
Blonde Highlights stops reading. Who writes crap like this?
Lady Macbeth is not a dominatrix. A lesbian? Perhaps. I hope this is a joke.
No, Antonio probably isn’t going to succeed in starting up wrestling clubs for thespians. Just because they both have members that enjoy wearing tights, doesn’t mean they have anything else in common.
antonio is a lesbionic thespian
“Out Damned Spot!”
Lady Macbeth never had skin conditions like this. Antonio watches with curiosity as Pimply reads Cosmo. “Impoverished” and “misunderstood” does not automatically make a hairdresser. If only he knew sooner.
“How to choose the exfoliant for your unique skin”
Stupid kid had eight months to find an exfoliant, and he’s reading this article now?
“Weep No More, My Lady” sits at the vantage point of the magazine rack. Something for everyone: the gays don’t need advice on choosing exfoliant.
“Who’s Judy Garland?” the pimply face squints at the autobiography on the magazine rack.
Even less hairdresser potential then. Antonio’s tragedy.
10080 minutes
At least in Rent, something happened in 525600 minutes, that’s more that what I can attest to for Cats though.
He looks back on the week; Blonde Highlights made a new friend, learnt something new about Jesǔs, and read Antonio’s script. Maybe life doesn’t need a plot. Yes, it must be nice being a cat then. All you need are friends.
the second last chapter
“so can I go to your place tonight?”
Blonde Highlights looks back on the week and sighs.
“fine”