Gym guys

Let me take you down, cos I'm going to

Strawberry fields ..

I'm writing between seminars to report something ridiculous. I want it to be known from the outset that this is absolutely truthful and I'm re-telling it to the best of my memory.

I was just hanging outside the union, when a bunch of very sweaty gym guys, wearing shorts and t-shirts, one with a towel round his neck came and stood near me, clearly having just finished a work out. They started chatting, and to cut a long story short, one of the guys was very into rowing and weightlifting, and after a really intense workout probably involving a lot of sweating and grunting and adrenaline, he'd take a modified form of GHB, or the date rape drug, to bring him back down a bit. A quick bit of research online tells me this technique isn't actually as far-fetched as it sounds. This is kinda what grabbed my attention.

Anyway, they started talking about how it could be used as a date rape drug. The first guys just kind of have a general debate, and the weight-lifter rowing guy suddenly pipes up with - no word of a lie -:

"I have no idea why anyone would use it. Whenever I take it, it just makes me knackered, I'd hardly be in the mood to rape anyone."

. . .

Libya is free, or something

Some people go to church just to signify,

Trying to make a date with the neighbours wife,

Brother let me tell you sure as you're born,

You better leave that woman alone ..

Gaddafi is dead. In response to my previous post in which I told you all to be pro-active and be doing something awesome when he was killed, I'll have to confess that mine wasn't that awesome myself. I was eating a pasty between two German grammar classes. No doubt it was a good pasty, but still not the tale I'd have hoped for.

   

I'm back in the library at the moment, evidently working hard. We have a 51 page document in German to read and make notes on for Monday, which doesn't exactly make me want to cheer but at least it's one less thing to do "in a group" as seems to be the current trend for 4th year German at the university of Leeds, even in the giant, unmissable face of overwhelming student unenthusiasm for the idea.

When I was walking into uni, I walked past two kind of punky girls. Well, punky for this day and age. Say, Avril Lavigne in the early days sort of punky. One of them was telling her friend something very demonstratively, with lots of hand gestures.

"And we were all like yo. What the fuck is up with Pancho?"

 

I really wish I knew the rest of that story.

Uni is not the real world

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at the doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Today is one of those days that I wish I was a heroin addict, purely because it would mean I wouldn't be sat in the library researching crap I'm not interested in, I'd be at home lying naked on the floor next to my messed up girlfriend wondering where our baby was.

I've managed to descend into that uni bubble after only 3 weeks, the one where you become so wrapped up in studying and reading and just having to think about stuff, that anything non-related seems weird and kind of liberating. Me and the housemates went to Morrisons the other day in the car, and the general unspoken concensus was that this was possibly the most exciting thing we've done since starting uni. It's not that Kirkstall Morrisons is any better than the others; rather, it just serves as a reminder that yes, there is a life outside of university which is wonderful and for real people, and yes, one day we'll be a part of it.

I've been drawing fire of late for going down the 'wishing away my days at university' path, to the tune of "ohh, some day in the future you'll be praying for the student lifestyle again". Undoubtedly I will, at least once in my life, but if I never have to sit through another 2 hour seminar of German grammar or do some needless group related task on something irrelevant in German, I will die in a good mood.

Have any of you ever experienced the awkward phenomenon of homeless people asking for the time? It happened to me yesterday when I was in town. Interacting with the homeless is one of those things which you try and avoid despite the rudimentary aspect of guilt, and I reckon we've become conditioned to the point that you shrug off their advances at the earliest opportunity or simply stride on while glancing at your phone.

But this homeless guy, the one that sits opposite HSBC down Park Row, managed to get the whole eye contact thing going on and comes out with "Do you have the time?" And then there's me, all caught up in the moment and I just say "sorry mate", because that is what you say unless you have change and/or aren't in a hurry. But then the question clicks and I give him the time, in case he has appointments to keep with other homeless guys, irregardless of the fact that if he were to sit 50m up or down the road, there'd be a big fuck-off clock for him to see. Who knows.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to say .. maybe I'll think of it later on. If you'll excuse me, I have work to go and hate.