Crazycrone's Corner

Complaining, Crabbing,Caterwauling...

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Why You Little...
Idly musing on 'triggers'...I remember many years ago, when THE SIMPSONS first appeared, there was a huge hoarding at Vauxahall, showing Homer strangling Bart, which stunned me; memories of my idyllic childhood flooded my dozy brain, as I sat on the work-bound bus. Oddly, my reaction wasn't anger that I'd been forced to re-live early traumas, but feeling sort of pleased that other people remembered  'the good old days' of vigorous corporal punishment at home and school.(You'd certainly never mention to your parents that the nun had beaten you, or you'd get another dose from them,for provoking her.)
Goofed again, yesterday, by going to the ICA. The bloody exhibits were shut. I proceeded to lay out 2.50 for a portrait show at the Mall Galleries next door. It consisted largely of very compentent but dull paintings of prosperously smug-looking white men in suits (or blazers-). There were a few items that were a bit more engaging, largely in the little downstairs area, but on the whole, meh.
 Musing on 'triggers' I remember back when THE SIMPSONS

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what happened when the boarding schools went mixed at the end of the 70s

Today I was reading a review about some posh boy's smug, self-congratulatory book about boarding school, and wondering what sort of book I might write about boarding school - not so charming I fear!

I were just yesterday thinking of "the strangles" and the report to childline or social services consequence. When will Homer have gone far enough that Bart revisits the abuser with a thirst for blood?

Shit. Its all gone a bit Frank Miller.

I just missed those days. I was caned on my first day in the new primary school and then it all began to fade. :)

Hey Lee. You were in my dream last night, you and your neighbor. She was trying to get me to be in her play, she was doing a production called "Ariadne" or "Arabella". I said I was busy and trying to decline, but she was really hyping me. Then we, you and I, walked around talking about it, and we both had canes so I was trying to match your stride -- the head had fallen off mine and the tab it had fit into was digging into my palm, plus I didn't lean on mine as much as you, and I felt self conscious. It was good to see you though.

Hmm, both operas by Strauss, wonder what that means?

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