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Finn

February 1999

A Chorus Line

It's happened again, I have seen one of these movies that does that thing to you that not every movie does to you. It was Leaving Normal last time that did it to me last time but this time it's A Chorus Line. I just watched this movie not more than five hours ago and it has just inspired me to write, something. This time it was my column. Last time it was a pathetic play that has since has gone brown then slightly orange then to nothing. Apart from how it looked when it was burning that's how the story would have gone as well. Let's hope this emerges to be one of my better columns. January's was very hard to read because it wasn't here.

That's what happens when school consumes your life and becomes your one waking motivation. It's not like it's optional. You can't say at the beginning of the year that you will remain sane and one single building and a few departments won't take over your life. It just happens without you knowing it's happening and when you stop for the holidays you wonder why your not doing anything. Your just relaxing like you used to and it seems really strange to do something so natural.

Natural pursuits such a sleep and any problems you my have in your life have to be carefully juggled around. The balls have to fly around essays, after school rehearsals, multiple choice questions, past exam questions and of course the word that strikes fear in to the heart of any student, revision. It can be quite useful having all these curricular activities, they act as a mask to what your really feeling about everything.

When I used to have time for feeling things was while cycling but I haven't been out in the hills on my faithful bike for three or four months. The higher plus, the sweat, the exhilaration of climbing a new bigger hill used to, for some inexplicable, reason make me feel things in my soul. And my soul only before you think I am descending into realms of smut where I have been before and shall return to.

Now we are in the middle of pre-lims, mock exams, estimates, what ever you call them I have time to stop and think a little. I know I should be working but my energy has been sapped by my lack of revision. A Chorus Line has evoked my emotion once again and all I have found is I never really feel happy. I am almost there but a few things need to be in place before it can all happen. A boyfriend would help a lot, not for the sex but for the hugging. To be able to hold someone close to me and be secure and know they are the same are the aspirations of my dreams and their very fabric. Sadly they won't be for filled in the near future, I know I shall have to wait for the spiritual and sexual solace I seem to hunger for so greatly.

One thing that does bring me joy is the biggest gay cliche of them all. Sadly a cliche has to be based on reality for it to exist and I seem to be part of the base for theatre lovers. Not only do I enjoy all forms of it but I don't have the sense to keep away from it as a future career. Stuff economics, who wants to wear a grey suit and talk about neo-classic theories all day? I didn't think I'd see any one jumping out the screen shouting 'me me me'. I'd rather wear what I want and teach, produce, direct or write what people see on the stage. I do know I will never be seen on the stage so training as an actor isn't top of my list at the moment. All I do know at the moment is I want to be involved in something as evocative as some of the plays I have read or seen. However, with the bitter irony of this world I'll most likely end up working for the Bank of England in a grey suit.

The funny thing is A Chorus Line wasn't a very good film.

I must apologise for straying form my usual colloquial out bursts of dither but this month I just can't seem to manage it. I've probably lost half my readers now so hello to that one person.

Oh, just one last thing. After nearly a year I'm dropping the pretence of Fender Bender. It makes me sound like so kind of camp hand bag wielding pink maniac. Which some may say is true and I know who you are, but don't believe the critics eh.

Love,

Finn (my name)


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