31 May 2004
30 May 2004
Was really looking forward to pancakes but then. . . . .
This weekend I ran out of eggs.
Me simply telling you this is a measure of how exciting this weekend was.
While I’ve mostly been daydreaming, I have been reading up for my next exam. I have three days per exam to cram into my tiny cluttered head as much information as is possible for a boy not yet augmented by science.
The best explanation ever for why you shouldn’t believe everything you see and hear.
( I wrote three ‘quirky’ ways to get to that link which included “The Day After Tomorrow”, African Politics and Avril Lavigne. However, when I read each I realised I had managed to miss the point of the link and ended up less ‘quirky’ and more ‘pitiful’. This is why you now simply get a sentence. No misdirection, no made up anecdote and no painful long way round before I linked in the last sentence. Simple and concise, like biscuits.)
Me simply telling you this is a measure of how exciting this weekend was.
While I’ve mostly been daydreaming, I have been reading up for my next exam. I have three days per exam to cram into my tiny cluttered head as much information as is possible for a boy not yet augmented by science.
The best explanation ever for why you shouldn’t believe everything you see and hear.
( I wrote three ‘quirky’ ways to get to that link which included “The Day After Tomorrow”, African Politics and Avril Lavigne. However, when I read each I realised I had managed to miss the point of the link and ended up less ‘quirky’ and more ‘pitiful’. This is why you now simply get a sentence. No misdirection, no made up anecdote and no painful long way round before I linked in the last sentence. Simple and concise, like biscuits.)
27 May 2004
26 May 2004
The Fireball Stomp.
This site will bring a smile to even the most pained and over worked of eyes. It’s yet another Fireball, you gotta love us.
After infringing an auto mutilation jamming my proper indicating finger in the door of the car, I discovered that exactly with the x-ray showing a breaking still I am the bistoury fastest of the west.
It’s translated from Portuguese.
I now love the Portuguese.
Go check out Luiz.
After infringing an auto mutilation jamming my proper indicating finger in the door of the car, I discovered that exactly with the x-ray showing a breaking still I am the bistoury fastest of the west.
It’s translated from Portuguese.
I now love the Portuguese.
Go check out Luiz.
School days.
I was in this kids class at school when I was doing my GCSE’s. I’ve been over to his house for dinner and to muck about. He came to mine on occasions for this very same reason. I have met him in night clubs. I’m not saying I’m close to this guy anymore, but there was a time I would have called him a friend.
It’s a funny messed up old world.
It’s a funny messed up old world.
25 May 2004
Why hello there!
I’ve been wondering for a while now who the people are that read this stuff. I’ve been trying to work out an easy way for you to send me messages, but, seeing as I don’t really know that much about putting websites together, I’ve had a bit of difficulty.
Until now that is.
I have put together a crazily simplistic page from where you can send me random musings. I was going to put comments up but I really don’t want to and figured this is the next easiest thing.
Anyway, if you could take a sec and just send me a message so I know who you people are that would be massively appreciated. I’m particularly intrigued to know who the Americans are that keep on visiting!
You can find the link of the left.
No real substance tonight I’m afraid as I’ve been hours putting this together.
Hope to hear from you.
The Fireball.
Until now that is.
I have put together a crazily simplistic page from where you can send me random musings. I was going to put comments up but I really don’t want to and figured this is the next easiest thing.
Anyway, if you could take a sec and just send me a message so I know who you people are that would be massively appreciated. I’m particularly intrigued to know who the Americans are that keep on visiting!
You can find the link of the left.
No real substance tonight I’m afraid as I’ve been hours putting this together.
Hope to hear from you.
The Fireball.
24 May 2004
It's the pressure behind your eyes that'll kill ya.
Today I shall be quick and leave you with a couple of links. After the drama of the weekend, today seemed beige and uneventful.
Beauty
And the
Beast.
Beauty
And the
Beast.
23 May 2004
Ying and Yang.
My weekly Sunday ‘long’ bike ride, (ie, to the place we usually go and then some till we get bored) was fraught with difficulty today. Never before have my emotions been through so much. I shall explain why.
We set off after watching the Grand Prix (which was very very good by the way) and about 2 miles down the canal there were a bunch of police stood by a bridge. It turned out we couldn’t go any further as there were ‘unidentified objects’ in the canal. Due to this we were forced to look for an alternative route to get further down river. As we left the canal basin and tried to find our way we very quickly came to a pub just next to a bridge over the canal, a pub that was swarming with police. After a quick ‘Diagnosis Murder’ glance at the imaginary camera we deduced that some pissed up nobody had decided to jump off the bridge to cool off. Nice move numb nuts, the canal is only about 4 foot deep ( and yes I know this for a fact!!! ) so you probably ended up stuck head first in the dirt at the bottom. Not so WKD Blue now are you!
Anywhoos, we found ourselves in bandit country ( charming slang for the many down trodden estates we endured cycling around ) and ended up looking very lost as we went down cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac looking for one of the many paths that lead on to the canal. Then suddenly a young lad obviously feeling our plight asks us if we were lost and promptly directs us to two gates he knows of. This kind deed was all the more unexpected as we were surrounded by GTi’s and ‘swanky’ alloys, all of which usually mean you are in the midst of the ‘smash and grab’ culture.
Finally we found our way back to the canal. But not before we stopped off at the world’s most unhelpful bike shop. There were five people in the shop and I don’t think we got glanced at once. The shop was full of bikes that looked great yet weighed as much as Trisha’s compiled divorce proceedings and had replaced strong durable aluminium for weak brittle plastic on almost every part which would be put under strain in the normal operation of riding a bike.
So we found our way back to the canal. We were riding down it and all of a sudden our lives were put back into balance by the cosmos. The earlier kind act was obviously pulling at the very fabric of the universe and we were cycling in some kind of ever tightening spiral that would eventually lead us to evil. We found it. Very quickly.
Ron usually takes the lead when we go out. I don’t know why this is, it’s just how it happens. Suddenly, Ron was braking hard, and then just as suddenly he was head over tits into the dark disease ridden waters of the canal. He did a full forward flip and entered the water head first with the bike still under him as if pure hope would allow him to ride out of this. In a space of time too short to measure as my brain tried to take in what was happening somebody had grabbed me and pushed me towards the canal. I knew I was falling. I knew I had been pushed. There was very little I could do except contemplate that all the times I have wondered how I would first fall in, this was never something I had considered.
I was underwater, I was attached to a bike. My head came above water and my first thought was ‘I hope it’s not deep cause I’m not letting go!’. Luckily I could stand. Ron was already out the water by the time I noticed him but his bike was nowhere to be seen. He was stood looking at his sodden digital camera, a look of disbelief and pain etched across his wet face. A little further down the canal was the culprit. Stood there. Looking at us.
Words entered my head. Sentences formed, they went along the line of “Fuck, I’m about to get the shit kicked out of me.” I stood in the water, holding the front wheel of my bike ( I don’t know how I ended up holding the front wheel either, it was just in my hand when I surfaced ) the man just. . . Stood there. Looking at us.
In times like these, when nerves are on edge and adrenaline is pumping, it is very difficult to know what to do. Is the guy armed, is he gonna freak out and start stabbing us, is he gonna demand our bikes, is he a druggie, does he have syringes on him??? These are not nice thoughts to have, even more so when you are very aware just how close to life they may be.
We start fishing our bikes out the canal while keeping a very wary eye on him. Slowly he starts to come towards us, he looks twitchy, I’m still in the water looking for Ron’s bike, the man looks at us and says “Sorry about that.”
Stop the clock. I’ve got the clue!!!! It says you're a mentalist.
What the fuck. Sorry . You just pushed me in a canal shit for brains. Why are you apologising?
It turns out this guy was ‘Protesting’ against bikers on the canal path. Oh, hang on a minute, is it a bridleway? PUSH ME IN A CANAL. . . . IT IS, SO I’M ALLOWED ON HERE!!!! However, you try explaining this to Mr Obviously On Edge And Probably Dangerous.
While I’m still wading around looking for the missing bike we point out to him that his protest seemed a little ‘over the top’ ahem, so to speak.
Hmmm, with hindsight telling an emotionally unstable man with violent tendencies that he may have reacted in a way not befitting social norms seems a little pointless.
Then he offers to get in the canal and help us look for the bike. I’m still not sure this guy isn’t going to hold my head under the water till Ron agrees to go to the bank and withdraw all his money so I quickly refuse.
So there we were. I’m in the canal looking for a bike, Ron is stood on the edge close to this random guy and nerves are fraying like cartoon jumpers.
I finally find the bike and we pull it out, then as I come to get out this guy offers me his hand. In the time is takes to go ‘ooohhhh’ after you see someone on the telly get kicked in the nuts, I consider pulling him in. However, then I would be in the water with Mr Lets See How Hard I Can Grip Your Neck. I decide that if we are going to get out of this alive, we had better go the humanitarian route and if that doesn’t work just try our very hardest to beat the shit out of him if it all kicks off. I take his hand and he helps me out.
Now that we are both on the path there seems to be a change in his manner. He apologises again for pushing us in, apparently his dog was ‘terrified’ and that’s why he did it. He then says that he stayed around as he would rather “We just have it out now rather than you jumping me later.”
Hold on Johnson.
Any guy that stands there, and plain as day says, “Lets fight.” Is either one of two things.
a) Fucking nails.
b) Fucking nuts.
Whichever way it swings, this situation was weirder than Round The Twist while nursing a hangover. There was no way I was going to attack Mr Probably Got A Knife In My Sock For Backup. Yet what to do?
Ever the diplomat, and desperately searching for a way to avoid a starring role on Crime Watch, I try to open a dialogue.
Why did you do this, what possible reason could you have?
It turns out he is ‘sick and tired’ of mountain bikers tearing past him and scaring his dog. Yet the only reason he had a chance to push us in was because we slowed down so we wouldn’t scare his stupid little dog. He then got back to the whole ‘you shouldn’t be on this path’ argument and we had to cut that short as tempers were starting to fray on both sides.
This guy was a mystery to me. On the one hand, he pushed us both in a canal in the space of a second. On the other, he stayed around, even offering to get in the canal to help us find the other bike, then helps me out, then apologises, then offers to fight us, then explains his actions.
You can usually tell the ones that will just attack you, but this guy was getting harder to read by the minute. He got very angry while protecting his actions and seemed to steer the conversation towards him getting angry. Was he doing this so he could just attack us and get it over and done with, I don’t know. I do know that it was freaking me out and I knew that the sooner we got away from him the better.
Finally we agreed to disagree over whether we had a right to be there. We got back on our bikes and rode off.
Looking back this whole episode makes me angry. I’m angry that he pushed me in and I’m angry that I didn’t ‘get my own back’. I feel like I should have gone for him, there were two of us, we could have probably taken him in a fight. And yet, the very fact that he seemed to be steering us towards a fight makes me glad we didn’t do this. As I said, either he knew something we didn’t or he was just plain old fashioned crazy. I don’t know and frankly don’t care. What I do care about is that at the end of the day I only got wet. It could have been a lot worse.
Yeah, my ego got bruised a bit as I feel I should have been more of a ‘man’ and stood up for myself. But then I think about it and realise I would rather be the kind of guy that gets pushed in a canal and laughs about it, than the guy who gets in a fight and brags about it.
So this is me laughing about it. My clothes have been washed and the bikes are safely locked away. Ron and I are unhurt and both back home safely. Am I worried that I might see him again when I go out, yes I am. Is it going to stop me going, no it isn’t.
The thing that really got to me. The one thing that really eats away at me even as I write this, is that when we were parting company, for some bizarre reason we shook hands and left on friendly terms. This has been bugging me all day.
This guy just went out of his way to be mean to me and yet I shook his hand.
For all that I almost despise myself for this. There are two sayings that I hold very close to my heart. The first I got from my dear departed Auntie. It was in the last letter she wrote to me and I run it though me head when I find myself in situations like this.
Don’t wrestle with a pig, the pig enjoys it and you just end up getting dirty.
The second is one that will help me to get over my anger. To stop resenting myself for being who I am.
I don’t think that kindness is a weakness.
Tonight I will mull this 10 minutes over and over in my head, I will think of everything I should have said and everything I would have done. I will be stronger than I am now, I would have won the fight, I would have pushed him in. I would have been the one with a weapon. I should have kicked his stupid dog, I should have pulled him in with me. I should I would I should I would.
Tonight I will mull, I will not sleep, I will boil in my own self righteous heat.
Tomorrow I will see more and more of the funny side. I will realise I have yet another story to tell. I will appreciate that I only got wet when it so easily could have been worse. I will grin when I think of myself wading around in the canal. I will openly smile when I remember thinking I had found the bike and yet pulling up a ten foot long plastic pipe. I will tell it when I am in the pub. I will exaggerate parts and forget others. It will bare only a passing resemblance to the story above, I will laugh when I tell it and the way I tell it shall make others laugh with me. It shall be a story that makes me smile and it shall start;
“Hey, did I ever tell you about that dude who pushed me in a canal?”
We set off after watching the Grand Prix (which was very very good by the way) and about 2 miles down the canal there were a bunch of police stood by a bridge. It turned out we couldn’t go any further as there were ‘unidentified objects’ in the canal. Due to this we were forced to look for an alternative route to get further down river. As we left the canal basin and tried to find our way we very quickly came to a pub just next to a bridge over the canal, a pub that was swarming with police. After a quick ‘Diagnosis Murder’ glance at the imaginary camera we deduced that some pissed up nobody had decided to jump off the bridge to cool off. Nice move numb nuts, the canal is only about 4 foot deep ( and yes I know this for a fact!!! ) so you probably ended up stuck head first in the dirt at the bottom. Not so WKD Blue now are you!
Anywhoos, we found ourselves in bandit country ( charming slang for the many down trodden estates we endured cycling around ) and ended up looking very lost as we went down cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac looking for one of the many paths that lead on to the canal. Then suddenly a young lad obviously feeling our plight asks us if we were lost and promptly directs us to two gates he knows of. This kind deed was all the more unexpected as we were surrounded by GTi’s and ‘swanky’ alloys, all of which usually mean you are in the midst of the ‘smash and grab’ culture.
Finally we found our way back to the canal. But not before we stopped off at the world’s most unhelpful bike shop. There were five people in the shop and I don’t think we got glanced at once. The shop was full of bikes that looked great yet weighed as much as Trisha’s compiled divorce proceedings and had replaced strong durable aluminium for weak brittle plastic on almost every part which would be put under strain in the normal operation of riding a bike.
So we found our way back to the canal. We were riding down it and all of a sudden our lives were put back into balance by the cosmos. The earlier kind act was obviously pulling at the very fabric of the universe and we were cycling in some kind of ever tightening spiral that would eventually lead us to evil. We found it. Very quickly.
Ron usually takes the lead when we go out. I don’t know why this is, it’s just how it happens. Suddenly, Ron was braking hard, and then just as suddenly he was head over tits into the dark disease ridden waters of the canal. He did a full forward flip and entered the water head first with the bike still under him as if pure hope would allow him to ride out of this. In a space of time too short to measure as my brain tried to take in what was happening somebody had grabbed me and pushed me towards the canal. I knew I was falling. I knew I had been pushed. There was very little I could do except contemplate that all the times I have wondered how I would first fall in, this was never something I had considered.
I was underwater, I was attached to a bike. My head came above water and my first thought was ‘I hope it’s not deep cause I’m not letting go!’. Luckily I could stand. Ron was already out the water by the time I noticed him but his bike was nowhere to be seen. He was stood looking at his sodden digital camera, a look of disbelief and pain etched across his wet face. A little further down the canal was the culprit. Stood there. Looking at us.
Words entered my head. Sentences formed, they went along the line of “Fuck, I’m about to get the shit kicked out of me.” I stood in the water, holding the front wheel of my bike ( I don’t know how I ended up holding the front wheel either, it was just in my hand when I surfaced ) the man just. . . Stood there. Looking at us.
In times like these, when nerves are on edge and adrenaline is pumping, it is very difficult to know what to do. Is the guy armed, is he gonna freak out and start stabbing us, is he gonna demand our bikes, is he a druggie, does he have syringes on him??? These are not nice thoughts to have, even more so when you are very aware just how close to life they may be.
We start fishing our bikes out the canal while keeping a very wary eye on him. Slowly he starts to come towards us, he looks twitchy, I’m still in the water looking for Ron’s bike, the man looks at us and says “Sorry about that.”
Stop the clock. I’ve got the clue!!!! It says you're a mentalist.
What the fuck. Sorry . You just pushed me in a canal shit for brains. Why are you apologising?
It turns out this guy was ‘Protesting’ against bikers on the canal path. Oh, hang on a minute, is it a bridleway? PUSH ME IN A CANAL. . . . IT IS, SO I’M ALLOWED ON HERE!!!! However, you try explaining this to Mr Obviously On Edge And Probably Dangerous.
While I’m still wading around looking for the missing bike we point out to him that his protest seemed a little ‘over the top’ ahem, so to speak.
Hmmm, with hindsight telling an emotionally unstable man with violent tendencies that he may have reacted in a way not befitting social norms seems a little pointless.
Then he offers to get in the canal and help us look for the bike. I’m still not sure this guy isn’t going to hold my head under the water till Ron agrees to go to the bank and withdraw all his money so I quickly refuse.
So there we were. I’m in the canal looking for a bike, Ron is stood on the edge close to this random guy and nerves are fraying like cartoon jumpers.
I finally find the bike and we pull it out, then as I come to get out this guy offers me his hand. In the time is takes to go ‘ooohhhh’ after you see someone on the telly get kicked in the nuts, I consider pulling him in. However, then I would be in the water with Mr Lets See How Hard I Can Grip Your Neck. I decide that if we are going to get out of this alive, we had better go the humanitarian route and if that doesn’t work just try our very hardest to beat the shit out of him if it all kicks off. I take his hand and he helps me out.
Now that we are both on the path there seems to be a change in his manner. He apologises again for pushing us in, apparently his dog was ‘terrified’ and that’s why he did it. He then says that he stayed around as he would rather “We just have it out now rather than you jumping me later.”
Hold on Johnson.
Any guy that stands there, and plain as day says, “Lets fight.” Is either one of two things.
a) Fucking nails.
b) Fucking nuts.
Whichever way it swings, this situation was weirder than Round The Twist while nursing a hangover. There was no way I was going to attack Mr Probably Got A Knife In My Sock For Backup. Yet what to do?
Ever the diplomat, and desperately searching for a way to avoid a starring role on Crime Watch, I try to open a dialogue.
Why did you do this, what possible reason could you have?
It turns out he is ‘sick and tired’ of mountain bikers tearing past him and scaring his dog. Yet the only reason he had a chance to push us in was because we slowed down so we wouldn’t scare his stupid little dog. He then got back to the whole ‘you shouldn’t be on this path’ argument and we had to cut that short as tempers were starting to fray on both sides.
This guy was a mystery to me. On the one hand, he pushed us both in a canal in the space of a second. On the other, he stayed around, even offering to get in the canal to help us find the other bike, then helps me out, then apologises, then offers to fight us, then explains his actions.
You can usually tell the ones that will just attack you, but this guy was getting harder to read by the minute. He got very angry while protecting his actions and seemed to steer the conversation towards him getting angry. Was he doing this so he could just attack us and get it over and done with, I don’t know. I do know that it was freaking me out and I knew that the sooner we got away from him the better.
Finally we agreed to disagree over whether we had a right to be there. We got back on our bikes and rode off.
Looking back this whole episode makes me angry. I’m angry that he pushed me in and I’m angry that I didn’t ‘get my own back’. I feel like I should have gone for him, there were two of us, we could have probably taken him in a fight. And yet, the very fact that he seemed to be steering us towards a fight makes me glad we didn’t do this. As I said, either he knew something we didn’t or he was just plain old fashioned crazy. I don’t know and frankly don’t care. What I do care about is that at the end of the day I only got wet. It could have been a lot worse.
Yeah, my ego got bruised a bit as I feel I should have been more of a ‘man’ and stood up for myself. But then I think about it and realise I would rather be the kind of guy that gets pushed in a canal and laughs about it, than the guy who gets in a fight and brags about it.
So this is me laughing about it. My clothes have been washed and the bikes are safely locked away. Ron and I are unhurt and both back home safely. Am I worried that I might see him again when I go out, yes I am. Is it going to stop me going, no it isn’t.
The thing that really got to me. The one thing that really eats away at me even as I write this, is that when we were parting company, for some bizarre reason we shook hands and left on friendly terms. This has been bugging me all day.
This guy just went out of his way to be mean to me and yet I shook his hand.
For all that I almost despise myself for this. There are two sayings that I hold very close to my heart. The first I got from my dear departed Auntie. It was in the last letter she wrote to me and I run it though me head when I find myself in situations like this.
Don’t wrestle with a pig, the pig enjoys it and you just end up getting dirty.
The second is one that will help me to get over my anger. To stop resenting myself for being who I am.
I don’t think that kindness is a weakness.
Tonight I will mull this 10 minutes over and over in my head, I will think of everything I should have said and everything I would have done. I will be stronger than I am now, I would have won the fight, I would have pushed him in. I would have been the one with a weapon. I should have kicked his stupid dog, I should have pulled him in with me. I should I would I should I would.
Tonight I will mull, I will not sleep, I will boil in my own self righteous heat.
Tomorrow I will see more and more of the funny side. I will realise I have yet another story to tell. I will appreciate that I only got wet when it so easily could have been worse. I will grin when I think of myself wading around in the canal. I will openly smile when I remember thinking I had found the bike and yet pulling up a ten foot long plastic pipe. I will tell it when I am in the pub. I will exaggerate parts and forget others. It will bare only a passing resemblance to the story above, I will laugh when I tell it and the way I tell it shall make others laugh with me. It shall be a story that makes me smile and it shall start;
“Hey, did I ever tell you about that dude who pushed me in a canal?”
21 May 2004
More ways to Wardy.
Google Search: Sammy's Super t-shirt download
Wow, I just love the way that some people find this site.
Hello to the person from Israel, and congratulations on being a fan of Sammy's Super T-Shirt.
Wow, I just love the way that some people find this site.
Hello to the person from Israel, and congratulations on being a fan of Sammy's Super T-Shirt.
20 May 2004
Goths, I just don’t get you.
We are in the middle of the sunniest days we have had in this green and pleasant land for some time now. Yet in the middle of shorts season there are a number of people who seem to be denying the summer. They walk around as if the blazing heat has no effect on them. They wear ‘winter’ clothes when the dark season has passed. They pass by wearing dark, in all seasons.
They are Goths, hear them moan quietly in the corner at a social gathering.
Now I don’t have anything against minority groups of society. I’m all for them. Varied societies are happy societies. It’s not that I don’t like Goths, I just don’t understand them.
At all.
Now as we know, a lack of knowledge can often turn into resentment, which is what I am trying to avoid here. But I witnessed something a few days ago that I just can’t process inside my tiny little ‘acoustic music can be nice’ head.
Imagine the scene. Blazing sun. No clouds. White skinny legs from adolescents are all around. The ice cream van is playing the American national anthem for no real reason, girls in short skirts and boys in white trainers are all around. And then a vampire walks by.
A vampire, in multiple layers of black. Huge knee high PVC boots with 5 buckles on each, black trousers, a black T-shirt with generic ‘death metal band’ logo emblazoned across it, and then the Crème de la Goth, a long black leather jacket ‘Matrix style’.
But this is the bit that gets me, if you are so badly trying to impersonate a vampire, with the white face and ‘blood coming out the mouth’ make up and all. Why would you walk around in the blazing sun at midday??
It just doesn’t add up. It would be like me pretending to be a townie, and then not being a pain in the arse to everyone I meet while I delicately sip on a chilled G’n’T.
If you want to impersonate a vampire, do it properly. This half hearted approach just makes you look like a fool. A fool who is going to sweat A LOT for no real reason other than trying to broke some kind of ‘look at me’ childhood need. I mean, they must have read a vampire book at some point in their life, or at least seen some album cover art with them on. Surely they understand the basic principles of the thing they are trying to impersonate.
So this is why I don’t understand Goths. It seems to boil down to a fashion. And while they are trying to kick out at society with the shock value of what they do. They tie themselves up in knots by becoming so controlled by the way they have to behave; they are no longer ‘anarchists’ and more ‘fashion victims’.
Then again maybe I’m wrong. But I doubt it. After the matrix there was a new flux of Neo-Goths ( an unexpected but frighteningly apt name ) that all had to wear ‘That’ coat and pretend they loved Norwegian metal.
I don’t mind people pretending to be vampires, and I don’t mind the whole Goth scene. But in the same way that I thought everyone that wore a Kappa tracksuit was a loser, and the same way that everyone who wears Burberry caps is a loser, Goths are becoming a parody of themselves.
Goths of the world. If you want to remain as a fringe group then start getting fringy. You are being diluted into yet another Topshop clone. Soon there will be t-shirts from Ted Baker that have ‘Goth’ written across them. When this day comes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
They are Goths, hear them moan quietly in the corner at a social gathering.
Now I don’t have anything against minority groups of society. I’m all for them. Varied societies are happy societies. It’s not that I don’t like Goths, I just don’t understand them.
At all.
Now as we know, a lack of knowledge can often turn into resentment, which is what I am trying to avoid here. But I witnessed something a few days ago that I just can’t process inside my tiny little ‘acoustic music can be nice’ head.
Imagine the scene. Blazing sun. No clouds. White skinny legs from adolescents are all around. The ice cream van is playing the American national anthem for no real reason, girls in short skirts and boys in white trainers are all around. And then a vampire walks by.
A vampire, in multiple layers of black. Huge knee high PVC boots with 5 buckles on each, black trousers, a black T-shirt with generic ‘death metal band’ logo emblazoned across it, and then the Crème de la Goth, a long black leather jacket ‘Matrix style’.
But this is the bit that gets me, if you are so badly trying to impersonate a vampire, with the white face and ‘blood coming out the mouth’ make up and all. Why would you walk around in the blazing sun at midday??
It just doesn’t add up. It would be like me pretending to be a townie, and then not being a pain in the arse to everyone I meet while I delicately sip on a chilled G’n’T.
If you want to impersonate a vampire, do it properly. This half hearted approach just makes you look like a fool. A fool who is going to sweat A LOT for no real reason other than trying to broke some kind of ‘look at me’ childhood need. I mean, they must have read a vampire book at some point in their life, or at least seen some album cover art with them on. Surely they understand the basic principles of the thing they are trying to impersonate.
So this is why I don’t understand Goths. It seems to boil down to a fashion. And while they are trying to kick out at society with the shock value of what they do. They tie themselves up in knots by becoming so controlled by the way they have to behave; they are no longer ‘anarchists’ and more ‘fashion victims’.
Then again maybe I’m wrong. But I doubt it. After the matrix there was a new flux of Neo-Goths ( an unexpected but frighteningly apt name ) that all had to wear ‘That’ coat and pretend they loved Norwegian metal.
I don’t mind people pretending to be vampires, and I don’t mind the whole Goth scene. But in the same way that I thought everyone that wore a Kappa tracksuit was a loser, and the same way that everyone who wears Burberry caps is a loser, Goths are becoming a parody of themselves.
Goths of the world. If you want to remain as a fringe group then start getting fringy. You are being diluted into yet another Topshop clone. Soon there will be t-shirts from Ted Baker that have ‘Goth’ written across them. When this day comes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
19 May 2004
Blog Review.
The Passions Of The Chris
Chris, who has an unfeasible knowledge of children’s television as well as some marginally important stuff to do with building regs, shall now be telling all in his eagerly anticipated third blog. After the success of ‘Chris Actually’ and ‘10 Things To Do In Denver When You’re Chris’, this new blog promises to keep all the charm of the originals while using many of the same anecdotes and jokes.
Written in the broken, disjointed style that has made Hollyoaks so successful, it utilises the freelance spelling made so popular by sites such as Powder Search. Issues ranging from what was eaten for breakfast all the way through to the delights of supper shall be breached, with little regard to offending, or even paying attention to lunch.
While the main revenue of the site comes from advertising, much of the money to pay for the material is brokered from the sale of slightly damaged English China, with a favourable nod towards the ever popular ‘Eternal Beau’ collection.
Although this site is often worrying, it can entertain in an instant with regular quips towards minority groups and those who shop at ‘Holland and Barrat’. This site often surprises with its superficial views towards both independent music retailers and stilt walkers, but this never detracts from colourful writing which can not only pass time in the office, but is equally comfortable being a minor distraction at home or even on the move.
This reviewer would give The Passions Of The Chris four ‘and’ signs dispersed with a ‘pound' sign it could have been higher were it not for the green colour which reminds of a nasty wound, the type of which would keep one from being the lead role in an Amateur Dramatics version of Dudley Moore’s “Arthur”.
Blog Rating: && £ &&
Highlights of this blog: The Archives.
Chris, who has an unfeasible knowledge of children’s television as well as some marginally important stuff to do with building regs, shall now be telling all in his eagerly anticipated third blog. After the success of ‘Chris Actually’ and ‘10 Things To Do In Denver When You’re Chris’, this new blog promises to keep all the charm of the originals while using many of the same anecdotes and jokes.
Written in the broken, disjointed style that has made Hollyoaks so successful, it utilises the freelance spelling made so popular by sites such as Powder Search. Issues ranging from what was eaten for breakfast all the way through to the delights of supper shall be breached, with little regard to offending, or even paying attention to lunch.
While the main revenue of the site comes from advertising, much of the money to pay for the material is brokered from the sale of slightly damaged English China, with a favourable nod towards the ever popular ‘Eternal Beau’ collection.
Although this site is often worrying, it can entertain in an instant with regular quips towards minority groups and those who shop at ‘Holland and Barrat’. This site often surprises with its superficial views towards both independent music retailers and stilt walkers, but this never detracts from colourful writing which can not only pass time in the office, but is equally comfortable being a minor distraction at home or even on the move.
This reviewer would give The Passions Of The Chris four ‘and’ signs dispersed with a ‘pound' sign it could have been higher were it not for the green colour which reminds of a nasty wound, the type of which would keep one from being the lead role in an Amateur Dramatics version of Dudley Moore’s “Arthur”.
Blog Rating: && £ &&
Highlights of this blog: The Archives.
Why we don't like insects.
I have formulated a new theory for why we don’t like insects. This came to me today while I was sat in the garden workin’ ont’ tan. It goes like this; we don’t like insects because they have no respect for personal space. They get everywhere. They get in your tea, in your omelette sandwich and in your revision notes. They buzz close to your face and repeatedly land on your face, arms, legs and stomach. A person would know not to invade this personal space, nor to taint personal belongings. Animals such as dogs can be taught not to constantly invade this personal boundary, even cats can be taught through repeated flicks to the nose, to stay away. Insects however, just don’t get it. They will come as close as they like, land on you, get really really near your eyes, then sit there looking smug. Should you flick the insect away, it will be replaced. You cannot stop insects from being irritating. Mammals can be pushed aside or kept in an enclosure. Insects are free from humans trying to contain and control them. This is why they are not liked. We can do nothing to bend insects to our will. If they want to land in our food, they will. If they want to drink my blood, they will. If they want to fly really really near to my eyes, – and I have a thing about my eyes being close to anything other than sunglasses – they will.
Insects are uncontrollable, and this annoys people. There is no ‘pop up blocker’ for insects. We cannot turn them off, turn them over or change our personal settings to get rid of them. Insects will go where they please, when they please and heaven forbid we should get in the way. We can’t even kill them, it brings such short-lived respite from their relentless presence that you just have to sit down and try and appreciate them.
So next time I’m in the garden appreciate them I will. And if they doesn’t work I’m going to get a family size bottle of Raid and have me a hoe down.
Insects are uncontrollable, and this annoys people. There is no ‘pop up blocker’ for insects. We cannot turn them off, turn them over or change our personal settings to get rid of them. Insects will go where they please, when they please and heaven forbid we should get in the way. We can’t even kill them, it brings such short-lived respite from their relentless presence that you just have to sit down and try and appreciate them.
So next time I’m in the garden appreciate them I will. And if they doesn’t work I’m going to get a family size bottle of Raid and have me a hoe down.
18 May 2004
For Donna
To feed your obsession.
I can't pretend that I watched this all the way through becuase it's way too boring. However, seing as you 'Love The Yak' so to speak, I present you with this educational video.
I can't pretend that I watched this all the way through becuase it's way too boring. However, seing as you 'Love The Yak' so to speak, I present you with this educational video.
Fall From Grace.
For those of you who remember Maid Marrian and Her Merry Men, then I’m sure thinking of this show brings back fond memories of the Nasty Sheriff and the hunk of beauty that was Rabies. – and wasn’t Rabies In Love the best song every in a kids show! - Now however, you can relive those days of childhood glee by simply watching adverts. That’s right, Robin is back on telly. Not in his usual, floppy haired, bit stupid, physical comedy role that we came to love him in. But in the new Cura-Heat advert. Yep, that’s right, take note next time this is on because I assure you children of my time, it is the ledged that is. . . Robin of the Hood.
Tomorrow I’m going to put the kitchen table in the garden and work out there. I’m going to try and get rid of the ‘forearm only’ tan that is all the rage at the mo. So wearing shorts and little else I shall continue trying to remember Journal articles so I can regurgitate them a week on Friday. Hopefully not only will this help me develop a proper tan but I will also be able to take my little fridge outside and pretend that it’s a cool little vending machine.
Summer, as well as being the time that I wear shorts around the house, also seems to make good looking women crop up from the woodwork. I don’t know if they just hide their looks during the winter but there has been a definite increase in number of attractive women walking around. Hopefully once I have burnt, peeled, healed and browned I will be able to get my chicken legs out the house and try dancing with some of them. Although if you had seen my dance you would agree that chicken legs are the least of my problems.
Been reading a lot about the Berg killing recently. There seems to be a whole load of discrepancies with the videos. I don’t know if these are just the normal reaction to what is a very provocative story or if they do hold some truth in them. Makes for an interesting read though. I’m still not sure which way I swing on this. However, the one that got me was the lack of blood when he was beheaded. However, housemates who have watched other videos of people being beheaded – and yes, they are out there and not that hard to find – say that there weren’t mountains of blood in these either. Maybe they are all fakes, maybe people were expecting ‘Kill Bill’ gushes, whatever way it swings I reckon if they were faked, they would have done a better job of hiding it. Not even the US government can be dumb enough to release tapes so controversial with so little attention to detail.
Tomorrow I’m going to put the kitchen table in the garden and work out there. I’m going to try and get rid of the ‘forearm only’ tan that is all the rage at the mo. So wearing shorts and little else I shall continue trying to remember Journal articles so I can regurgitate them a week on Friday. Hopefully not only will this help me develop a proper tan but I will also be able to take my little fridge outside and pretend that it’s a cool little vending machine.
Summer, as well as being the time that I wear shorts around the house, also seems to make good looking women crop up from the woodwork. I don’t know if they just hide their looks during the winter but there has been a definite increase in number of attractive women walking around. Hopefully once I have burnt, peeled, healed and browned I will be able to get my chicken legs out the house and try dancing with some of them. Although if you had seen my dance you would agree that chicken legs are the least of my problems.
Been reading a lot about the Berg killing recently. There seems to be a whole load of discrepancies with the videos. I don’t know if these are just the normal reaction to what is a very provocative story or if they do hold some truth in them. Makes for an interesting read though. I’m still not sure which way I swing on this. However, the one that got me was the lack of blood when he was beheaded. However, housemates who have watched other videos of people being beheaded – and yes, they are out there and not that hard to find – say that there weren’t mountains of blood in these either. Maybe they are all fakes, maybe people were expecting ‘Kill Bill’ gushes, whatever way it swings I reckon if they were faked, they would have done a better job of hiding it. Not even the US government can be dumb enough to release tapes so controversial with so little attention to detail.
17 May 2004
Sun, Sasser and Soft Systems Methodology.
Sat in the Cathedral ruins revising today and I made a new friend. In fact, I made about 15 of them as I was accosted by a group of primary school children who were on a ‘fact finding’ mission of some sorts. It all started when we shouted out the answer to the game of charades they were playing because the little kids were being painfully slow in getting to the right answer – which was ‘Garfield The Movie’ for those who are interested – they then went on to quiz us about who we were, what school we were at, where we came from, what football team we supported and so on. Then when I revealed that I was a Northerner I got the most unexpected of questions “Is it true that northern boys love gravy???”
Hmmm, well I am partial to a bit of chicken and onion so I guess I do.
Had to go home after lunch though as it was too sunny for a whole day in the sun, burning on the first warm day is neither cool nor sophisticated.
Now summer is round the corner I’m guessing the buskers will be out in force. Lets just hope they’re all as good as this guy.
I spent the majority of the past 2 nights trying to fix a computer of the dreaded Sasser Worm. Unfortunately it wouldn’t stay on long enough to download and run the patch to get rid of it. And the computer didn’t have any anti-virus software on it so wouldn’t stay on long enough to download that either. Suffice to say, after scratching my head and finally using a different computer to work out how to get rid of it, I am now two bottles of delicious red wine better off.
That was a truthful but albeit tenuous way to get to my next link. I know it’s only advertising a company but if one day all computers were this sweet to work with then we could relish living with obesity for a little while longer.
(Soft Systems Methodology is what I was revising today, needed another 'S' and it's too hot to be original)
Hmmm, well I am partial to a bit of chicken and onion so I guess I do.
Had to go home after lunch though as it was too sunny for a whole day in the sun, burning on the first warm day is neither cool nor sophisticated.
Now summer is round the corner I’m guessing the buskers will be out in force. Lets just hope they’re all as good as this guy.
I spent the majority of the past 2 nights trying to fix a computer of the dreaded Sasser Worm. Unfortunately it wouldn’t stay on long enough to download and run the patch to get rid of it. And the computer didn’t have any anti-virus software on it so wouldn’t stay on long enough to download that either. Suffice to say, after scratching my head and finally using a different computer to work out how to get rid of it, I am now two bottles of delicious red wine better off.
That was a truthful but albeit tenuous way to get to my next link. I know it’s only advertising a company but if one day all computers were this sweet to work with then we could relish living with obesity for a little while longer.
(Soft Systems Methodology is what I was revising today, needed another 'S' and it's too hot to be original)
Yahoo! ???? - Numb Nut
Yahoo! ???? - Numb Nut
Check out number 6. Some guy from Hong Kong got to my site through this.
Chances he'll be back. . . close to nil.
Check out number 6. Some guy from Hong Kong got to my site through this.
Chances he'll be back. . . close to nil.
16 May 2004
Back from the brink.
Hey people. I know it’s been a while since I last posted by my exams aren’t going to pass themselves so I’ve had to devote a bit of time to something other than sitting at my computer.
Luckily for you, today was Sunday so I spent a good 3 hours making sure I wasn’t getting left behind by the world and made full use of my broadband.
I helped to build and Oxfam Water Tank this week. It was so much easier than I thought it would be. It took us less than 2 hours to unpack – build – take down – repack. Considering I thought we would be at it all afternoon it was a pleasant surprise.
Have you ever been listening to Metallica tracks and thought, “Well Metallica are a good band, but The Beatles were marginally more successful. If only Metallica could tap into some of this magic they could become more than they are now.” Obviously you have thought this, it was crazy of me to presume otherwise, and thanks to the wonder of the capitalist regime we now have more time on our hands to pursue something other than the food on our table. Raise a fist in the air and give thanks that the open market brings us such wonders as this.
And so, from one musical talent to another. From the screaming guitars of heavy metal a new king is born. A versatile king, a king on a keyboard. If you are under 30, male and have ever enjoyed computer games then you will get this. If you are over 30, female or actively shunned computers games in favour of programming, reading or anything to do with fresh air, then you will just have to tap your foot along to the nice tune.
Luckily for you, today was Sunday so I spent a good 3 hours making sure I wasn’t getting left behind by the world and made full use of my broadband.
I helped to build and Oxfam Water Tank this week. It was so much easier than I thought it would be. It took us less than 2 hours to unpack – build – take down – repack. Considering I thought we would be at it all afternoon it was a pleasant surprise.
Have you ever been listening to Metallica tracks and thought, “Well Metallica are a good band, but The Beatles were marginally more successful. If only Metallica could tap into some of this magic they could become more than they are now.” Obviously you have thought this, it was crazy of me to presume otherwise, and thanks to the wonder of the capitalist regime we now have more time on our hands to pursue something other than the food on our table. Raise a fist in the air and give thanks that the open market brings us such wonders as this.
And so, from one musical talent to another. From the screaming guitars of heavy metal a new king is born. A versatile king, a king on a keyboard. If you are under 30, male and have ever enjoyed computer games then you will get this. If you are over 30, female or actively shunned computers games in favour of programming, reading or anything to do with fresh air, then you will just have to tap your foot along to the nice tune.
10 May 2004
Walking at night.
Sometimes you never know if the person you are talking to is very subtly taking the piss out of you, or being complementary, but in an area of your life that you would not think warranted such praise. Tonight was such a night. From the person whom I was conversing with I will guess that they were being complementary.
Sometimes it really is the little things in life that you think go unnoticed, that come back and hug you.
As I walked home tonight the city was transformed from the harsh angular environment that I have come to know, into some cloudy soft expedition.
We had big thunderstorms today. At lunch time people were sitting on the grass trying to get a tan, then three hours later we were deluged with thunder, lightning and hail. Tonight the remnant of the storm manifested itself as a thick fog that only revealed a section of the city at a time as you walked through. And for some reason – and I really don’t think I was making this up – there was a smell of burnt wood in the air. It took me back to when I was a kid walking through the woods while on camp. The smell of the fire, the eerie fog and a common environment revealed slowly to you as you advance.
Whether the smell of burning wood made me remember, or whether me remembering made me think of burnt wood I will never know. However, there is something at looking at the world in a way in which you cannot instantly take it for granted, that makes you re-evaluate the environment in which you live.
The walk home tonight was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
Sometimes it really is the little things in life that you think go unnoticed, that come back and hug you.
As I walked home tonight the city was transformed from the harsh angular environment that I have come to know, into some cloudy soft expedition.
We had big thunderstorms today. At lunch time people were sitting on the grass trying to get a tan, then three hours later we were deluged with thunder, lightning and hail. Tonight the remnant of the storm manifested itself as a thick fog that only revealed a section of the city at a time as you walked through. And for some reason – and I really don’t think I was making this up – there was a smell of burnt wood in the air. It took me back to when I was a kid walking through the woods while on camp. The smell of the fire, the eerie fog and a common environment revealed slowly to you as you advance.
Whether the smell of burning wood made me remember, or whether me remembering made me think of burnt wood I will never know. However, there is something at looking at the world in a way in which you cannot instantly take it for granted, that makes you re-evaluate the environment in which you live.
The walk home tonight was unexpected, but not unwelcome.
09 May 2004
I’m bathed in red light.
The bulbs went in my room. Both my halogen bulb in the desk light and the normal light have blown. I had to change my desktop to plain white and use my monitor as the main light source in my room. I decided I'd go for something a bit different so while I was buying normal light bulbs I thought I’d get some red ones as well. It was meant to be a bit of fun and make my room look all ‘moody’. Unfortunately because they are only 40 watt it just looks crap. It makes my room look poorly. It makes me look poorly. It is difficult to get a sense of time at night.
And I know this last one seems odd, but as the sun slowly went down and I was left in the red glow of my bulb, the normal passage of time seemed different. I put this down to our body clock being controlled by the presence of ‘white light’ to tell us when it’s night and day. However, bathe yourself in red light for a day and you seem to lose out on this. Kinda weird, but also cool. It could also be the only real time that I can call something I’ve written on here an ‘investigation’. Although I didn’t really investigate anything at all, it just happened.
Oh well, such is the fickle way of science!
Tomorrow I hand in the last piece of coursework I shall ever write. It is called ‘The Value Of Security Council Resolution 1502’. I shall hand it in and be happy. I shall not mourn the passing of coursework.
And I know this last one seems odd, but as the sun slowly went down and I was left in the red glow of my bulb, the normal passage of time seemed different. I put this down to our body clock being controlled by the presence of ‘white light’ to tell us when it’s night and day. However, bathe yourself in red light for a day and you seem to lose out on this. Kinda weird, but also cool. It could also be the only real time that I can call something I’ve written on here an ‘investigation’. Although I didn’t really investigate anything at all, it just happened.
Oh well, such is the fickle way of science!
Tomorrow I hand in the last piece of coursework I shall ever write. It is called ‘The Value Of Security Council Resolution 1502’. I shall hand it in and be happy. I shall not mourn the passing of coursework.
07 May 2004
I could have helped.
I’m sat in the computer room in my school and have just been subjected to two guys sat in front of my swearing loudly, talking loudly on phones and punching the desk to pieces. Why? Because it’s dissertation time and the numb nut on the right couldn’t get his work to save onto disk.
“It says the disk is full. . . . how can it be, there’s only one thing on it!!”
So they sat there, swearing, phoning, hitting and generally being a pain in the arse. I was going to go over and offer my support, to help them through this obviously stressful time with a few ‘computer tips’ but I thought hey, if they are the type of people that come in to the computer room to blow off steam and ruin the day for everyone else who is trying to get their work done, then they can suffer.
Eventually the numb nut on the left points out that the file size might be too big for the disk. So numb nut on the right goes and buys a rewriteable CD. He then somehow manages to not be able to save the work onto this either. I wanted to laugh, but instead I wrote this.
They have left now. The room is quite. People are once again working and the numb nuts are probably scratching their heads and trying to figure out what they will do next.
During this time the whole room was also subjected to numb nuts on the left make another date with some girl he met the previous week. Judging from conversation they will have a short and unhappy relationship maybe lasting into the three week period.
The sun is out. I just sat on the grass bank outside my school and ate lunch with some friends. Soon all this will end. I never thought I would miss sitting by a road, eating lunch in the sun so much. But as I drank my milk (how retro is that) it dawned on me that it really is these little things that make being at uni so good. I mean, yeah, there’s the nights at the bar, and these are cool, but after the first year there is nothing new to do. Sometimes you just feel like you’re going through the motions. But sat in the sun with friends, just hanging out and chatting. These are the things I will miss.
That, and eating chocolate custard and wheatabix for a main meal. Topped with cruncy nut cornflakes and grapenuts. ohh yeah.
“It says the disk is full. . . . how can it be, there’s only one thing on it!!”
So they sat there, swearing, phoning, hitting and generally being a pain in the arse. I was going to go over and offer my support, to help them through this obviously stressful time with a few ‘computer tips’ but I thought hey, if they are the type of people that come in to the computer room to blow off steam and ruin the day for everyone else who is trying to get their work done, then they can suffer.
Eventually the numb nut on the left points out that the file size might be too big for the disk. So numb nut on the right goes and buys a rewriteable CD. He then somehow manages to not be able to save the work onto this either. I wanted to laugh, but instead I wrote this.
They have left now. The room is quite. People are once again working and the numb nuts are probably scratching their heads and trying to figure out what they will do next.
During this time the whole room was also subjected to numb nuts on the left make another date with some girl he met the previous week. Judging from conversation they will have a short and unhappy relationship maybe lasting into the three week period.
The sun is out. I just sat on the grass bank outside my school and ate lunch with some friends. Soon all this will end. I never thought I would miss sitting by a road, eating lunch in the sun so much. But as I drank my milk (how retro is that) it dawned on me that it really is these little things that make being at uni so good. I mean, yeah, there’s the nights at the bar, and these are cool, but after the first year there is nothing new to do. Sometimes you just feel like you’re going through the motions. But sat in the sun with friends, just hanging out and chatting. These are the things I will miss.
That, and eating chocolate custard and wheatabix for a main meal. Topped with cruncy nut cornflakes and grapenuts. ohh yeah.
Hey Hey 16k
This is so true it hurts. The best part about this, is that I remember most of the games. Long live the glory days of gaming.
05 May 2004
Speakers are the greatest invention ever.
The highlight of the week so far has been visiting a sewage farm for my degree. It started off a bit kooky ‘cant believe I’m actually visiting a sewage farm’ quickly got boring ‘this place smells of shit! ’ and ‘Have you dropped one?!?!’ then just led onto the plain bizarre ‘we have a Japanese rose garden to attract wildlife as otherwise it would all be dead in a hundred years due to climate change’ . . . So what with the tedium of people who are more than old enough to know better making poo joke after poo joke and laughing about it every time, combined with wildly inaccurate facts, the day just dragged a bit.
I lie, the day would have been bearable, the jokes. . . sorry. . joke, dragged.
Ever watched a wasp that has been trapped inside for about a week really slowly fly towards the window time after time as it slowly gives way to death.
That was what my lecture this morning was like. I left after an hour, the pain was too much. The blatant disregard for my education was evident in the lack of both preparation and enthusiasm from the lecturer. The people next to me played hangman, I drew shapes that linked together without actually touching and then filled them in, as people are wont to do when bored.
Then tonight, I listened to music for about 4 hours straight. I went through every track I have that brings back memories of being younger. Some of them were depressing, but in that really nice way when you kick back and remember what you were in fuzzy memory vision. I like these the best. Some songs bring back vague memories or times, but the ones where you have distinct pictures really let you live in the past for a while. The only problem with these songs is that they end. If I could make them go on and on until my need to relive times gone by is complete, that would be ace. As it is, I get 4 minute snippets of my past.
Some people have photograph albums, I have a playlist.
I lie, the day would have been bearable, the jokes. . . sorry. . joke, dragged.
Ever watched a wasp that has been trapped inside for about a week really slowly fly towards the window time after time as it slowly gives way to death.
That was what my lecture this morning was like. I left after an hour, the pain was too much. The blatant disregard for my education was evident in the lack of both preparation and enthusiasm from the lecturer. The people next to me played hangman, I drew shapes that linked together without actually touching and then filled them in, as people are wont to do when bored.
Then tonight, I listened to music for about 4 hours straight. I went through every track I have that brings back memories of being younger. Some of them were depressing, but in that really nice way when you kick back and remember what you were in fuzzy memory vision. I like these the best. Some songs bring back vague memories or times, but the ones where you have distinct pictures really let you live in the past for a while. The only problem with these songs is that they end. If I could make them go on and on until my need to relive times gone by is complete, that would be ace. As it is, I get 4 minute snippets of my past.
Some people have photograph albums, I have a playlist.
02 May 2004
Baldrick's plans come to life.
Women have always found a way to help during a war. Be it cutting thinner slices of bread, growing veg or balloting endlessly for the right to beat the shit out of the enemy like the guys do, the fairer sex have been there on the front lines with us in one way or another. As the years go by and the world changes, then women start playing a different role in our war effort, one that requires no less effort and where the results are a lot more obvious, and immediate.
Women of America, putting the Privates back in to the Army.
Remember kids, expressing yourself, in anyway whatsoever that is out of line with the “official stance” is wrong. Heaven forbid you should have a view on the world at such a young age. Heavy handed tactics are in order to make you more patriotic.
I cannot express how much this story makes me pity those who can’t see the war for the Arabs.
I have been thinking of a way to link to this next piece of worldly knowledge, and yet I can find no words within my ‘clean’ vocabulary to express my feelings. I thought about using some ‘class B’ swears, but felt I would just be throwing them in for the sake of it. Not only would these rather tame swears not come close to the emotion this builds within me, it would also somehow detract from the subject matter. Subject matter which is as worthy of being taken seriously as any I have know. People, I managed to bring you this without being vulgar, and this took more restraint then you may release. *shakes head, looks away from monitor, sighs, and continues with life*
Women of America, putting the Privates back in to the Army.
Remember kids, expressing yourself, in anyway whatsoever that is out of line with the “official stance” is wrong. Heaven forbid you should have a view on the world at such a young age. Heavy handed tactics are in order to make you more patriotic.
I cannot express how much this story makes me pity those who can’t see the war for the Arabs.
I have been thinking of a way to link to this next piece of worldly knowledge, and yet I can find no words within my ‘clean’ vocabulary to express my feelings. I thought about using some ‘class B’ swears, but felt I would just be throwing them in for the sake of it. Not only would these rather tame swears not come close to the emotion this builds within me, it would also somehow detract from the subject matter. Subject matter which is as worthy of being taken seriously as any I have know. People, I managed to bring you this without being vulgar, and this took more restraint then you may release. *shakes head, looks away from monitor, sighs, and continues with life*
No links, just confusion.
Confusion.
I saw a guy come out of a newsagent today and hide something inside his copy of the “Daily Sport”. Now as you usually hide your copy of Daily Sport inside something this struck me as odd. What made this even odder is what he hid inside the Daily Sport.
It was porn. ( something Tits, couldn’t make the whole title out, sorry)
Now, along with a feeling of oddness, I had another feeling, that of confusion.
Why would you hide porn inside the Daily Sport, and why would you buy the Daily Sport if you were also buying porn. It just doesn’t make sense, it’s like trying to hide your wish to be cool by having a ‘mullet’!
Unless, of course he bought the Daily Sport to actually read it!!!, hah, no way. So this guy must have actually been the kind of bloke that believes he has some sort of standing in society by reading a paper – and I use the term lightly here when referring to the Daily Sport – and didn’t want to tarnish this reputation by openly admitting he bought porn, and so hid it in the offending paper.
Amazing.
I saw a guy come out of a newsagent today and hide something inside his copy of the “Daily Sport”. Now as you usually hide your copy of Daily Sport inside something this struck me as odd. What made this even odder is what he hid inside the Daily Sport.
It was porn. ( something Tits, couldn’t make the whole title out, sorry)
Now, along with a feeling of oddness, I had another feeling, that of confusion.
Why would you hide porn inside the Daily Sport, and why would you buy the Daily Sport if you were also buying porn. It just doesn’t make sense, it’s like trying to hide your wish to be cool by having a ‘mullet’!
Unless, of course he bought the Daily Sport to actually read it!!!, hah, no way. So this guy must have actually been the kind of bloke that believes he has some sort of standing in society by reading a paper – and I use the term lightly here when referring to the Daily Sport – and didn’t want to tarnish this reputation by openly admitting he bought porn, and so hid it in the offending paper.
Amazing.
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