:: Wank-a-thon Blues ::

I've just spent most of my lunchbreak binding my script for Twelfth Night and then highlighting my lines. The director has cut the play and told me that much of Feste's part had gone because his role doesn't contribute much to the narrative. I had a slight shock to discover that all of the songs and lots of galavanting remain in this version, so Devukha is going to be a busy little chap. Lines for The Way We Live have to be learnt for 2nd May and until performance of that play (17th/18th May), I'll have virtually every week-night and some Saturday afternoons taken up with rehearsals. Fortunately the one night where I never have any rehearsals is Thursday, so sacred bAsTaRd nights will be free for me to hunt for the boy in the red t-shirt...

A direct result of this activity is my tireless non-devotion to this site, which is increasingly becoming "my favourite bits from b3ta". Today's post virtually avoids b3ta altogether and concentrates on the subject of the header (did you notice it's a link?):

Three pointless sites to wank away your valuable time:
Virtual bubble wrap is annoying and quite boring after a short time. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone but a die-hard bubble popping fan with withdrawal symptoms. Similarly pointless, but somehow more charming and captivating is this site which allows you to practise bursting clouds. I love it, but get infuriated with having to work so hard to keep the screen cloudless. Nazi Kitten is unadulterated inanity from a fairly obvious source: how long can you keep the nazi-kitten-ball from falling on the ground?

Today's Poem of The Day is from the fantastic (American beat poet) Lawrence Ferlinghetti. I wouldn't say this was directly about wanking, but a post-poem masturbatory session seems to be on the cards after this flush of the writer's apparent sexual awakening...

The pennycandystore beyond the El
is where I first
        fell in love
                 with unreality
Jellybeans glowed in the semi-gloom
of that september afternoon
A cat upon the counter move
               the licorice sticks
       and tootsie rolls
and Oh Boy Gum

Outside the leaves were falling as they died

A wind had blown away the sun

A girl ran in
Her hair was rainy
Her breasts were breathless in the little room

Outside the leaves were falling
          and they cried
                    Too soon! too soon!

Premature ejaculation or pre-pubescent lust? In fact I know this poem from Leonard Bernstein's Songfest, which some people might regard as a pile of pretentious wank. For the record, I don't, but realise the thought of 6 fat singers warbling poetry at an audience may not appeal to everyone. But hey, I'm writing an opera libretto, for God's sake...

Last of all is this cartoon (Steve Bell again I'm afraid), which demonstrates how the allies will probably wank all over Iraq in the coming months:

That's that. I'm off to clear the custard.