Annihilation of distance

Moving house

2006-02-22T05:42:00.000-08:00

I have moved to http://swedophilia.blogspot.com

Druckqa

2005-07-23T13:58:00.000-07:00

On the day before this night plus fourteen days ago I made a decision that I assume most people in my position ponder or glance at after having lived an invariably care free, drug flowing, sporadic sleeping and eating cycled student existence, with little respect for ones health and well being for the best part of 3 years.

- Am I doing this all too much?
- What else could I be engaged in right now and with whom?
- Would I be having a better time?
- Actually, am I even enjoying this anymore, or is it simply a routine that myself and a number of close friends, friends and friends of friends have gotten ourselves glued to?
- How long has all this been going on for?!

Yes, when these types of questions start piling up inside your brain – At a point in the morning when you’re in a state of mind that technically constitutes an ‘up’. The point where you should be in full throes of serving up a sweaty dance jig or in an emotionally, outpouring gabfest.- they eventually guide you to make a decision. A decision that you are now going to begin to start thinking about making a decision. A decision as to whether you can be arsed changing anything or will simply let go of an idea and get stuck back to the same old routine by the pot.
I meant glue pot, but now that you mention it I’ve been wondering recently whether weed is as strong an ally as I once thought. Maybe he doesn’t always have my best interests at heart. Maybe I should sanction some tighter checks and controls upon him, until I’ve received some fresh intelligence that isn’t five years outmoded anyway……………………………………………………………
Is he secretly plotting against me? Is this starting to sound less like a battle and more like a war? Dramatic perhaps, also, frightening perhaps. At least I’m beginning to feel more cemented internally right now for pursuing these passing thoughts.

The two easiest and most obvious proposals made themselves known. One, to limit substance intake allowance to a finite number of munchin’, stompin’ nights out per month (This means As and Bs. Weed to only be sampled when helping in alleviating and soothing the aftermath of said nights out.)
The other plan hangs itself upon booking off a rest period for a set amount of months or allowing yourself to drift unguided into the unknown, possibly heady ether of the non-druggie realm and follow its untravelled path to the end. We’re all on the path, separated only by different points and locations. Flittering and dithering at some point on the line between either side: to take drugs or not to take drugs. Each side is like a magnet and the side we closest stray to ‘tises and claims our scalp, until we arrive at this same fork again at some distant point.
Surprisingly, the number of times I have selected the Cut it down not Cut it out methodology evades me. What did I base these cut it down selections on……………?
Well, it’s just easier really.
You get that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz you feel when you wave goodbye to any detrimental habit that you fear maybe trying to drag you back into a world which you are weary of. You get all this whilst at the same time receiving that same invigorating, self-satisfying buzz that you get from your speckled and coloured new best friends down at the old discotechque. Aha, you win on 2 fronts now, plus, it all comes guilt free! You consume less and less means more. More free days, nights, to give life a clear head and use that clarity to nudge yourself in a different direction. Times when you actually have a weekend instead of a sleepless, heavy night followed by a few hours kip, then proceeded by a none-day that has to be declared a write off because you aren’t physically or mentally capacitated to do anything. Anything bar mooching about someone’s place, listening to tunes whilst chewing the phat with your closest chums (And any other additions that have been acquired during the night’s proceedings.)
You smoke spliff after spliff smoking shitloads of skunk and after you stumble part way to your home you suddenly feel as you felt once before. The same as you did as you turned then looked up as your saviour first signals then says, “ Take this spliff.”
The herb can only feebily slap back the pervasive, downwardly dragging hands of the tablets , not sever them completely. Still, was the right thing to do even if you do arrive home un-caned. You are now tired and can realistically attempt sleep. You deflected the worst of the trauma away in an unaware, hazy cloud amongst friends. (You won’t be tired if you decided to take speed. If you ever find yourself wide awake and alone after phet then I often find a book helps to dampen those demons. Perhaps also listen to PWEI who after completing a seven year reign were asked what advice to give to any aspiring bandsters advised ”Don’t smoke speed”)
You then lie in bed, fragile and numb. Safe in the knowledge that tomorrow the biggest problems you will face are getting out of bed and whether to eat or not. At the end of tomorrow you experience a gratifying sense of relief that you have spent 2 days blissfully unaware and out of touch. Separated from a general society whose uninvited, out-thrust hands promise you your dreams if you join them, but instead pin one arm behind your back whilst making you sign away your precious life to them with the other. They nail your feet to the ground. The ground is the mortgage they so eagerly enslave you to for 25 years. They’ll keep working on you; slowly chipping off chunks and demanding whatever they desire off of you. Be it money, compliance or your consent to let them do whatever they want. If you remain in the dark thinking everything’s fine, accepting everything they ask of you without question, without thinking in fact then they won’t bother you in any other form. As long as you play by their rules you’ll think you are a free subject living within a free democracy. For all the slick promises they deliver nothing. Nothing except debt and depression. The only guarantee is that they’ll grip you round the neck and start to squeeze, constricting you tighter and tighter until you are left gasping for air, unable to consider anything except what a dire situation you find yourself in.

Some of you may read this and see parts myself in you. Some of you may label me as misguided, a waster who needs to grow up. I see it as having felt lost, distant and disassociated from a large part of the population who all I seem to see from are petty, selfish, close minded views. People whose only conception of a standard night out is excessive drinking, appalling come on tactics, and pissed arguments coupled with post club head smashing that we have all come to accept as the ‘norm.’ People who care more about the welfare, fortunes and misfortunes of “contestants” on shows such as Big brother, Pop idol, than their own next door neighbours or any random people they encounter on the street. It makes sense to care more about a reality tv show contestant, who you’ve never met, than another person who you physically encounter and could change your life and who is living a REAL life, complete with REAL decisions and consequences that you could play a part of. Ever sat on a bus on your own? Ever got caught up in listening to other people’s tedious small talk, talk that is perfectly fine for them to dicuss because it refers to people and experiences that the have been privy. Has what you have heard said ever comes across to you as…….. irritating bollocks that is of no gain or consequence to you? Ever thought that, forgotten about it and then gone home to sit in front of BB, wide eyed and desperately waiting for one of those crucial updates to ascertain whether the team passed the task this week. If they don’t pass the task they have no money and can’t buy food and definitely, definitely not alcohol.
One week goes by.
“Bit stale?”
‘mmm, yes. I’ve been feeling that’
“What do you suggest?”
“I know. Should we set a topic of discussion for the house mates to debate? Share certain experiences, talk about relevant issues facing the world today. That way the viewers can gain a deeper insight into the true personality of each character, sorry, contestant, and then make a truly informed decision about who genuinely deserves the prize money. What do you say”
‘I say that involves getting up early for an afternoon meeting. Besides the British public don’t want to be intellectually challenged and stimulated by their favourite characters. They want to see them hammered out of their faces, making tits out of themselves and hopefully offending one or two of the squares we strategically placed there to react to all the piss ups we set up.’
“Fuck it. Big brother is omnipotent. Ignore the written code and flood the house with alcohol. Anyway, I just remembered I’ve got £50 riding on Dazza and Tina being the first 2 people in British broadcasting history to openly join together in an act of public, tv, felching.”
When I see atrocities such as this happening willy nilly all around me it makes me feel distant and want to look for a different life. Drugs aren’t dooper, They’re a different kind of outstretched arms, ok this time only wanting to give you a hug, but they claim to offer you a happy world if you give yourself to it. I only want to go there when I wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed entertaining myself. Drugs may have been the wrong choice, personally, I would say definitely not. You might say I was wrong to choose to take drugs, but I think you may have been wrong when you chose to run to those arms which hold you back in a way you may never wake up to. At least I know who my potential enemies parading themselves around as friends are. Do You? Yes, I think that it shall be a drug free summer. I look forward to seeing where I end up.

lives of people who are paraded around on reality Tv shows on “ ‘Celebrity’ wrestling” than their nextdoor neighbours
Losing cont
Right before you did before you smoked that first spliff

Drugs aren’t dooper. They’re just an easy escape route you take if you wanna take a couple of days off and can’t be arsed to entertain yourself.

This wasn't supposed to happen

2005-04-28T04:26:00.000-07:00

Pointy stick,

Hey there.

I've not been avoiding you, I never seem to have time to send anyone a proper e-mail even though all my time is free..... slightly non-sensical. I'm finding everything strange. Last year I slept all day,was tired all the time, paranoid of everything and my quality of life was pretty much zero. I still had a few friends but couldn't make any new ones and was terrified of everyone. I felt worthless and there was no point to anything.The days were so long and boring, I'd pray for it all to end so I could go back to sleep. I occasionally dreamed of a time when I would never wake and be concious again, forced by my own time. One of my friends made me promise that I would never do it and so I remained.... I am glad.

Now?

I'm less tired and I sleep less but I'm all over the place. Sometimes I believe in myself..... that I can do anything and nothing can stop me on my way. I'm hyper and i'll chew peoples ears off. I can make anyone like me and want to be my friend. I can make people think I'm anything I want them to think and I act in different ways around different people.............I use the word act but it is all me, genuine.....It's the way I really feel and it changes all the time.....I'm scatty like this e-mail and my emotions/opinions are constantly fluctuating. I'll enjoy to make someone hate me or hold a certain opinion of me. Maybe i'm complicated........maybe other people are too simple. If I wanted to I could handle people. I have an intelligent, sinister side to me which could be very dangerous. I choose not to absue it and make my life brutally honest.

I am honest with people (Except jobs) and that leaves me open to attack and hurt but I don't care.I hate lies, the truth is beautiful but people find it hard to take.If you say something that isn't a run of the mill/status quo comment you are attacked and singled out by the majority. The stupid majority. They hold opinions on important matters that they actually know nothing about. The way the Government works for example...their general view of the world. They're either stupid or afraid of the truth. They're brain washed and conditioned by television, schools, their parents and by society. I KNOW this country is a shit hole... that we're slaves to a Government that claims to serve us, saying we are their masters. It sure doesn't feel that way to me. There's something in the bible saying that when the servant becomes the master it is the devils work. We are slaves. You're expected to be a slave to a life you never even chose to subscribe to. Slaves to our jobs, mortgage, money, debt. I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask to be made a citizen, oh, sorry, subject of this country. We live in a "demoracy"... so where was my choice? On that wonderful day, that big day when your national insurance card comes and you get your nice little number. It's a proud day, isn't it? Makes you feel part of something. That's our employee number, the number a master gives to his property. We are owned by the Government whose actions are dictated by banks and corporations whose only interest is....and this is tough.... oh yeah! Money, not people. is that why everything is so fucked up, possibly, do you think? If you go along, leading a boring existence that is expected of you then they leave you alone. If you swallow and believe their "education" play by their rules then you will be rewarded.

Rewarded by being left with your "freedom" to exist in this country. Free to be robbed of the precious minutes and hours that make up your life, possibly you're only life. Free to be raped of the majority of your hard earnt cash via taxes, stealth taxes and charges that you just lay down and accept. You're a model, upstanding citizen because you've never had a parking ticket...you pay your taxes on time and you've held the same job for 50 years......you love your country and why not?

Britain is great!

Just think of all that history that they teach you about our great country. My first memories of history are the battle of hastings, world war one and world war two. You may wonder why they would do this? It's because they want you from an early age to accept that war is NORMAL and not to question it. Oh look, we've had wars for thousands of years, it's just what people do, accept it.

But,What else can we do?

we could make guns a child's toy so they can go around pretending to shoot each other. children aren't impressionable, they won't think guns are cool or right. Let's make children want to be policemen and army men. What a noble occupation. Those fucking KNOB head parents on the news, blubbering that their child got killed in a war.

Hello?

Hello?

What did you think was going to happen to them when they joined the army?! It's not exactly the most risk free of occupations.

oh, but weren't they brave?

They ply their trade by only fighting against opponents with vastly inferior, outdated weapons whilst they hide behind their technologically superior, armoured vehicles and kill people from mind boggling distances. They move a joystick and press a button like a computer game. That's how they end lives. They invade a country and terrorise its citizens destroying civilian buildings, services and people. They protect the important things, such as the oil wells and leave everyone else to fend for themselves in an inferno. That doesn't sound brave at all....in fact it sounds like cowardice. They fought for no cause. They have no honour.

None of you died for me

None of you have protected anybody

None of you died in my name so I could prosper

None of you died for this fucking country.

You're only cause is to pursue the increase of numbers on a computer screen. A screen dislpaying various peoples cash hoardes. A screen displaying money that doesn't really exist. You died so people who have so much money that they could never possibly spend it...have...more money. It's all good though. It's not like there are people in the world who have no money or anything. Our leaders are good like that. Nice and fair. It's not like people would do anything for money.

You're a corporate army motivated by land, power and control. Not by ethics, morals or by doing the right thing. You died because you were tricked, tricked by a Government that promises to care for you and only use you when completely necessary. As soon as you join they shout and berrate you. Why? So that you obey orders without questioning. If Tony Blair or George Bush declared martial law would you slay your "own" people in the streets........probably yes and without battering an eyelid. I'm not saying the army would want to, but a convenient excuse would be raised to justify it. Terrorism, anarchy, the collapse of society! The people you were employed to protect.

When the media put your family on the television it's because pulling at the emotion strings sells. They don't care about you or me

No, I'm sorry, I was wrong before. Had a little rant and now my argument has come unstuck. We ARE the masters of the Government and they do what we tell them. When 2,000,000 people march to the capital stating they are against an illegal war, didn't they listen? I mean, they're are servants, I know that. It's not like they should ask us if they are going to declare war. A war that causes unimaginable damage to millions of people, takes billions of pounds of our hard earnt taxes away from us. We don't need that money for this country, we're so developed and all.

No, it makes sense to call a general election for a one party state and give everyone a vote. That's an important vote and it could really change this country.............it affects people's lives. All those differences between the parties. If we'd have just taken more care last time and voted in the conservatives then everything would be drastically different. Education would be degrading, the NHS "failing" and we would have gone to war with Iraq...............the LIberal democrats would ahve done all of the above, except for different reasons.

It's important to have a vote for such monumentous decisions. A war though? Nah, fuck it. No one cares about that. Too minor an issue ....they wouldn't be bothered about that....would they...nah....we'll make that decision for us. That's why they employ us. Wouldn't want to piss them off though so we'd better not start fucking with the really important thigns in life....like..... fox hunting. That's the kind of shit that could cause a revolution and a storming of parliament. The British people are passionate.

God, we're such polite, caring, upstanding, well to do lot. We know what's right and we're not savage at all.

Not like all those savages who live in other countries.

They're so lazy that they can't be arsed to put their designer clothes on or do their make up properly.They don't even bother waft the flies away from their faces when the cameras are on them, how embarrassing. Actually, the more I think about it the more I hate them because they never smile or horse around and entertain me by talking shit and that's what I expect from my television "entertainment".They're lazy, stupid farmers and that's why they have no food....I think....I think that's what causes it..... but I can't be arsed to find out why. It's nothing to do with me anyway, we give them so much aid. All that lovely, no strings attached aid......

Idiots! I bet they don't even know what WAP is!

How un-Kewl.

Why don't they just sort themselves out instead of taking up thirty seconds of our news coverage with all their silly little problems? So self absorbed, there's someone here trying to prevent me from gallavanting around the country with my inbred, genetically unsound, toff mates, tooting on my horn and letting my pack of vicious dogs tear another animal to shreds. That's what really gets my blood boiling.

Hate the Government?

Hate this country?

Feel powerless to change it and so go along because everyone else goes along with it. Nobody else could feel this same way? Could they? Anyway, I have a job and so I'll accept it and let someone else deal with it.

You accept it because you're tired.

You're tired because you work at least 5 days a week.

You spend most of your life with colleagues you had no say in picking and who probably make you feel dead inside. When you get home you're awake but your mind is tired and you are hungry. The easiest thing is to turn on the television because you don't have to think and it tells you what to think. You've had a hard day and your brain can't handle anything else. Why is all the really good programmes on really late when peoplle who have to work are in bed? Why is all the crappy soaps, reality TV shows, celebrity wrestling on at prime time. Why would the Government want us to be stupid? They'd never take the piss out of us.

When the weekend comes you're so fucked fof with it all that all you wanna do is get pissed. And do all those annoying, crappy jobs you never had enough time to do during the week. Shopping, housework. You don't need to have fun because there's no time and you can't change that.

... we're not developed..... look at the people you see in the street, listen to what they say and what they think. It's pretty fucking scary and I'm not talking about all the fear induced CRIME and TERRORISM. We're a stupid country, the majority of us are brain dead louts who worship lager, soaps and porn. Our cities are shit holes....look at our European neighbours. Ever go abroad, look at the buildings, the city designs, the attitude of the people and think.....just think.......... We have a terrible reputation around the world for violence, ignorance and being ugly. Britain is shit, British is shit. We all secretly know it.

St. George's day? Anyone

St. who?

When?

I only celebrate St. Patrick's day and guinness even though I think they are all potato eating thickos.

To our credit, we're not American. Those patriotic, flag flucking, national anthem singing peeps.

The only thing that unites us is when England play football. Those great days, Does anyone else sense a horrifyingly, tense aurora...a strange, unwholesome atmosphere on the day of an England match. The British attitude is amazing though, I think anyway. We expect that we deserve to be the best footballing nation in the world, even though we're not good....we do claim to have invented it though.... Right, so if we win a competition people would say:

"About fucking time"

If we lose they say

"I fucking knew it."

Then they go round destroying their towns and cities, twatting their fellow countrymen because they feel for England so much.

When I feel all powerful everything goes my way to the point it feels like someone has planned it, or written some film script for me. I'm sure some of the incidents that happen to me on a regular basis do not happen to most people and they could never even imagine it. Weird characters approach me in the street and want to be my friend. My life seems to be leading somewhere, I can't put my finger on it. I know I need to act in some way.....am I looking for a sign......would I even pick up on it. My days just disappear, I seem really busy but it feels like i've achieved nothing and there's so much to do. Sometimes I'm really confident and I can handle all situations that are thrown at me to the point of people perceiving it as arrogance. I place myself in situations so I can get myself out: it's as if there's a part of me that's egging me on to prove myself, that I can do things. Who am I trying to prove it too and why? There's always something nagging at my brain and I can never relax, I'm always on edge. I don't know the meaning of the word satisfied and after last week I realise I've not experienced the emotion of being happy for 2 years. I have no point of references regarding anything.....I can't remember how I felt last year, thankfully, or if I'm getting better or worse.

I don't know my own mind or what I feel. Am I alone? Am I ill? Am I in someway on a lower rung to a realisation or enlightenment? How can anyone ever truly understand another person?

It seems one of the only thing that can make me approach a state of happy is to help other people.....how long will that be enough for.I get bored of things so quickly....yet I'm lazy....why don't I realise my potential. Why don't most people..........

Ignorance is bliss. If I was like the people I talk about I would be less stressed and possibly happier. Is this a curse or a blessing to know all this and feel so trapped? Possibly. That's what they want me to feel. I'm not alone, I'm in a minority. Where are my allies?

Sometimes I cry and I don't know why.

Sometimes being in a room with other people makes me afraid.

What is it you think you see in my eyes?

Sometimes I'll stare at you with an uncomfortable intensity and you may wish you were strong like you think I am.

Sometimes I'll stare a blank, forlorn gaze and you may think I have debilitating troubles.

Sometimes I'll meet a stranger and bare my soul.

When I get close to a person I freeze up and can't let them get too close.

Sometimes I think I want people to like me

If people do like me I question why and get upset.

Sometimes I feel worthless.

Sometimes I feel ten times you.

Sometimes I feel so low and agitated there is nothing in the world that will make it ok. I want to run for a long time.

Sometimes I have to stop myself form doing things that come into my head

I could be the first person on mars and I wouldn't give a shit. I wouldn't feel happy or special.

If you pissed me off sufficiently I would show you pain you'd probably never imagined and then killl you with no qualms, no feeling, no pangs of guilt or upset. Why? Because you deserved it?

I have many feelings and would consider myself sensitive. Maybe I follow my own moral code and guide to life to a certain extent.

My eyes and brain hurt. My brain hurts because i'm exercising it and that pleases me. I'm slow. I think I've been here for 2 hours now. I won't check what I have written for mistakes, coherency or anything. I hadn't even planned to write any of this. I was writing asn e-mail to a friend and all of this came from nowhere. If I actually spent some time with these ideas, to develop them I might have something interesting to say...... if...

This all seems hopeless. It isn't. The people have the power. All of this could change...we ened to realise and think first. The people who go on Marchs also need to think. There were 2,000,000 of us, we could have brought that city to a standstill for days and they woudl ahve given in. Do you not see? All your little planned marchs with the exact time and then you all go on the coach home feeling good about yourselves. Do I even trust those anti-war people, begging you not to cause trouble. How will anything change then? Whose side are you on? Or are your glorious leaders going to get arrested if it kicks off.

So?

I think this is my first proper rant. That Bmx one pales in comparison. Still need to finish that....this is more important. I'm going to have a break now before I start writing about what I actually planned to come on here and write about after I had sent the quick E-mail :-)

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This lack of access to the internet makes me sad. I really wish I had posted about this topic for every day that it happened. The days have passed, as have the feelings though they have morphed as time goes on and I can only comment on how I feel about it right now. Obviously everything has changed, as it does every day, and my memory has faded and my words will not do justice to the way that I feel/felt about this girl.............no...........it makes me too sad and although I'm on a nice flow I'd rather have a clearer, fresher head to begin.

It's 4:30 am. I might only allow myself four hours sleep every day for a week and see what happens to me.

Feel drained, low.......................................if I crawl in my bed and lie there I may go to sleep and hopefully I won't dream those horrible dreams.

BMX Baddies - Miscreants: The society created dregs of society give me a hilarious present disguised as an act of twattery.Clever Boyz.

2005-04-18T06:12:00.000-07:00

//Chronology of the next bundle of updates is all whacked out, man.//

The story of my BMX misfortunes occured prior to my fertilisation, then birth giving to this; this site. I borrowed -True, with the intention of integrating it into my "shit"- a BMX from this slightly messed up, slightly narcissistic, slightly up herself - although she sometimes had intelligent and interesting things to say - , ridiculously foxy little Asian number. Her name was rare to me: exotic, very warm and just..well..... likeable. Unfotunately.........it was also the name of a brand of a partially well known dog food.

Heh.

Just for the record, luv, when you, your boyfriend, and one of your hired goons intimidated, nay, forced your way past Gavatape and into my house, the amp that you took didn't even belong to me.
Haha
pair of fingers thrust to your fucking face.
I win.

My birthday was approaching and my very good friends clubbed together to buy me a shiny, new, bike. It was a good day and I received a digital camera also. I can't quite remember how many paid for it...... tad rewd....apologies for hurting you if I miss the name off. You shouldn't have been so modest about it then!
No, no. You are noble and I commend thee, silent providers.
Thanks to:
Artblu* (Receives the top star award. Though, if I encountered her today i would semi-hiss her)
And in no particular order:
Cee MDMF
Molroy
Alnamite
13twelve
Dan Dan Dan Dan
Beta-Antlaa (Formerly known as, Antlaa)& Krusty-nana
Bretometer
Drukqs Dog Patter

I loved that little bike, in a way.

On my second outing I cycled to town to accomplish an errand or two, grab a few supplies. I needed the toilet, Burger King was the closest I could think of even though I find myself consistently unimpressed (sometimes to the point of having to actually physically gag at the plethora of yellows, browns and cauldron of distinctive, potent aromas) with their hygiene levels....and the floors in the restaurant always need mopping.
Sort it out.
I locked my bike up securely to a local post and set off for a /.
Upon my return there was something intensely vital missing from the picture in front of me....................
My

spanking

shiny

new

bike.
I just kept spinning round in a confused state, refusing to believe that this had happened. I kept replaying our final moments together to try and make some sense of this torrid, unexplained utter catastrophe. I reexamined the incident scene looking for that all important first clue to kick the ball off rolling.
I remember securely tying it to the tall, black post in ******* the ********** ***** ******* and t'other one.
That looks somewhat shorter than I'd imagined.
It's a bollard......
work it out for yourselves
'nuff said.
(* = censored for reasons which will become apparent as this unfolds.)

I stupidly, so very stupidly, decided to go to the Kop shop. I didn't fall victim to an all too predictable naive, foolish instinctive reaction to report it to the p*lice: like a hysterical, soppy, heads off in fairy land reaction, mythical vision of the oinks that some people would fall victim. Thinking that questions would be asked and the crime would be solved with the safe return of stolen bike.
People like you should be banned from voting and taking out a loan proceeded by a good slap round the face round before being shown a documentary showing the positive AND negative sides of police organisations all over the world. They can then choose to have the same opinion or alter it. Obviously, those who continued to hold that view would be written onto a list of people headed 'Stupid.' Not for sinister motives. Simply provide people with free access to information regarding who best to ignore and chastise.
The only reason I went to that filthy, corrupt, hate filled, misinformation peddling, fear mongering, framing, drug smuggling and gun rustling sack of shit is because I noticed one of the - and I must say very, very few in this country to be fair - impossible to id anyone, ever, there for our protection whilst spectacularly failing to do protect, camera boxs. It was perched menacingly like a knowing, all seeing, heinous eye.

When I see a camera staring at me I feel uncomfortable, tense and agitated.
Anyone else feel like that, even if you've done nothing or plan to do anything wrong?

But I thought those cameras were there to make us all feel safe?
Shouldn't I feel secure and happy knowing that I live in the country with the highest ratio of CCT* to population head in the world.
That makes us really safe, right?
Hmmmmm...

Does anyone else feel the same when a p**ice patrol vehicle rears its ugly head.
How safe does it make you feel?

Are those cameras pointing down into a well lit street, there to prevent anti-social and criminal behaviour directed towards the general public.
Are they?
Or are they watching all those money making, profitable business' vulnerable windows and doors?
No, no. That's just silly.
Our Government, the people we entrust to represent our views but most importantly look out for our interests and protect us wouldn't put money and power above human existence and protection........ they value human life all over the world. The great work they've carried out in Africa, Australia, Palestine & Iraq. These caring guys that have such a high respect for the preservation of life. They always try to avoid wars. They don't try to confuse us over finances and the "economy." They don't lie to us about mortgages and pensions. They're on our side and that's why we vote them in. Vote them into rape and abuse an enormous amount of world power that we hand to them on the basis of:

- How much trust they can emanate from their contorted, facial smiles, fake countenance.

- Awe, he's a nice family man.

- I'll never vote for that other lot.

- Here's a squeeky clean person, never made any mistakes, experimented or strayed from what is considered to be a "normal", "acceptable" social existence. Lot of life experience there. They'd be perfect to empathise with the vast and diverse needs and experiences of the mass population and thus be able to guide them towards a well informed, balanced harmony that is in the peoples' interest.Someone who has made mistakes is unfit to make decisions, because, as we all know, you never learn anything from mistakes..... so....... it's best not to make any and maintain your reputation which gives you a good position to fairly judge all those weak willed, peasants that you sometimes have to interact with.

They'd never do that.
Because if they did do that we'd be in a pretty fuckin' scary place right now.

I feel nice and relaxed now because if that were to happen then I might ... actually..... have to pull my finger out of my arse...take an interest and do something.

So glad none of that is happening.

Who am I to judge, I'm the same as everyone else. The only difference being I realise something is wrong.
I think that makes me worse because I am still inactive even though I have the power. Ignorance is a good excuse to be fair.

Anyhoo, I saw that fucking spy box and vaguely wondered whether it would have caught the act. I knew beforehand about the piss poor quality of the footage. Black and white, grainy, you can't make anything out apart from vague figures who can only be identified by their face, which incidentally you can't make out.
Slight design flaw perhaps?
Mayebe it should have been spotted before they installed over a million of the things.
Oh well, it's not their fault. They just got distracted with all the important details such as the product name, how much they could charge per unit, and how much fear they'd need to generate in order to make sales rocket.
You have to excuse them for failing to achieve the actual supposed point of the product.

Anyway, I knew they would not be catch the skritters, but I wanted to see him one last time, even if only for a few seconds. It would have also been a deserved crushing punishment to myself in payment for my stupid actions (actions that on first deciphering appears to contain connotations of ungratefulness, yet, if it was to be investigated would be proved to be totally unfounded.)
I also hope that it would be scallies so as to limit damage to my faith in humanity.

So tired, so tired.

This story ain't over

Doctor Cat conception

2005-04-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

1) 'Theme from Doctor Cat.' Begins with yet to be discovered "Doctor" sample and arranged in a similar vain to Thunder cats and ending with a "Cat" sample from either series I or II from Red Dwarf.

2) Monday night, Doctor Cat night where they receive a special treat tea of real fish, steam cooked. Sometimes they may be given dead birds that we find in the road. They can only eat this away from the flat.

3) On Doctor Cat's first birthday myself and Alnamite pick up fishing rods and catch them some fresh, hearty, unpolluted Manchester fish.

4) Brush Doctor Cat in a friendly, yet forceful manner.

5) Commission a stethoscope for Doctor Cat.

6) Refuse to get them micro chipped.

7) Discuss the pros and cons of vaccinations and disease prevention for them. If all the other cats are safe then Doctor Cat may be ok? Try to get cat charity to pay.

8) Will they be spayed?

9) Research how to care for cats.

10) Quiz fellow cat people asking for "any tips."

11) Cat flap?

12) Conceal Doctor Cat's presence from Mr. Landlord?

13) Doctor Cat needs to be friendly towards neighbours.

14) Should Doctor Cat wear festive attire? Tinsel at Christmas perhaps?

15) If fish tank is activated and Doctor Cat attemps to interfere then they shall be castigated, then punished. Doctor Cat will be confined to the flat and starved for 2 days.

16) If Doctor Cat's errors are even more horrific, action shall be decided ad hoc,

17) Entertain Doctor Cat with stompin', horse play, cavorting and depravity.

18) Doctor Cat has equal rights within flat.

Boss eyed dog... or somethin'

2005-04-08T02:25:00.000-07:00

About 18 months ago Alnamite was sat in the optician's chair undergoing a run of the mill eye examination.
"Has one of your pupils always been larger than the other?"
'Er, no. What?!'
He peers in the mirror and is taken aback when he notices that his right pupil is nearly twice as big as his left, this gives him a rather sui generis appearance. Imagine the pupils as vehicle wheels. It's like a piston hissing, engine smelling, double decker bus wheel juxtaposed with a child's BMX wheel. I do think it looks rather cute, although some people may misconstrue it as the eyemarks of a deranged individual who possibly shouldn't have contact with anyone under the age of 16.

This is a self inflicted, drug induced ailment and so it's difficult not to snigger a little bit *heh*. I honestly don't think his indulgences were excessive and believe the mutation occurred from a daring, yet foolish, toxic concoction of substances that formed some sort of eye paggering chemical and this is what did the damage, rather than the volume of his drug intake being too high. It might just be from when he got slaughtered every night at the Oxford union bar and kept checking out his South African barman friend, Chris, so much so that his pupil got all strained by the eye popping, sensual emotions that surged through his body every time Chris whispered the words, “Ally me pally wally KY jelly."

Us two, Cee MDMF, and ****** were waiting at the bus stop when Alnamite revealed this information to the others. There was a period of, and perhaps this was cruel, laughter fits quickly proceeded by Cee MDMF shouting, "Shit, you look mental!" Everyone started pissing themselves even more, especially because of the manner in which it was uttered. I felt sorry for my future flat mate, yet made a candid comment stating that I believed he looked like an elderly teddy bear. At some point in the past one of the teddy's eyes had fallen off and a new, incongruous, much bigger eye had been sown on as a replacement. It makes you feel sad for the bear and love him more.
Granted, maybe it wasn't the most comforting comparison to ease his sore mind; it made me feel empathy and also guilt for laughing. When the same girl then said, "You look like a boss eyed dog, or somethin'" the immense creasing began again and I forgot how he felt.............................laughter is a great cure.

"It's a stupid hat"

2005-04-06T02:07:00.000-07:00

Ok, no time to update. Here is what i sent in an e-mail after my friend,[can't think of a name yet], mentioned the pope.

I wrote this before the pope died by the way; I don't have time for a dedicated blog rant

cool,
look forward to real mail.
Pope was pissing me off. The figure head of the most evil, sinister,
organisation of the last 2000 years is about to die, boo hoo. Even The
Manchester evening news devoted a top section of the front page to it,
disgusting. If there was a God and he heard millions of people praying for
someone's life do you not think he'd respond in some way. Ok, maybe not
immortality but make him super healthy and fit, leting him live an extra week
relieved of the heavy burden of 'pope.' I'll cheer when that callous, charlatan
with dillusions of grandure pops his clogs. Let's pray that it's painful. I'll
be gutted if he gets away with passing away in his sleep.
oh, i've just made some geenral enquirires and it appears it's already happened.
*Excuse me while I wipe the tears from my eyes.
Hmm, got vague memories of you being associated with catholicism.............
Ack!

PS
Anyone know what this title is from?

Disgusting

2005-04-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

I've not been able to log into my account for an eon. I'm quite ill. Mammoth update by the end of the week plus photos. Not shit this time. I'm still here!

Thumbing a lift to rat city

2005-03-15T19:18:00.000-08:00

Update pending. I started a job and I can only use the net for about an hour each night. I'm slowly typing up my recvent adventures in office and will publish my memoirs in good time. (along with panda pics!)

Praise Panda \ Greb on Halifax

2005-03-07T17:36:00.000-08:00

Praise him with all the glory of your imagined heaven. Praise be to Panda of the highest order that human and animal kind can offer.
He is my best friend and your God.

Where have I been?
If truth be told I sort of forgot I had this web blog even though there was a huge backlog of things i needed to inform people about. I might just do a mini roundup at the end. Struggling to remember everything anyway.

Last Monday I did a terrible thing, kidnapping an innocent panda and exposing him to the real world outside of his accustomed 4 walls. A ransom note was left and thus began a weeklong photoshoot journey of his adventures. I really wanna put the pictures up soon, in negotiations with 1312 as we speak. I was actuallly quite glad I am on the dole as it gave me all this free time. There were some wanker dissenters - M*lRoy, formerly known as ViceMolRoy but now demoted due to his heinous anti-panda rhetoric - but they have to be fogiven as their minds have been rotted by the rat race of life and they no longer see things as clearly as Panda and myself.
Benevolent Panda.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rave - Ball ache to get there but it was sweet as it was in an abandoned hostpial and church. Some scamps managed to climb the bell tower and give it a jolly good ring. Bravo! Music wasn't tip top, ghostbusters was a welcomed treat though. There were lots of abandoned wheelchairs and I pushed the evil dissenter, M*lRoy, on a head on collision at speed with a car that was shining its headlights. Pulled off a stunt swerve right at the end to prevent damage put there was a scary looking black guy stood talking to the driver and he said, "Yo, I'll fuck you up yo." Ha

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had a job at the halifax and was sacked. I was the best person in training, answering all the questions and generally being an affable and gregariouos chracter. You'd thing I'd be made a welcome memeber of the team, wouldn't you? Nein, all they wanted was brain dead droners who would actually enjoy working in an office and think it was an "important job." My trainer was gunning for me from the start and they got me on a techinicality. "Personal integrity" because I didn't declare I was on medication on my form. Yeah, because you wouldn't have given me the fucking job otherwise. I'm actually 99% sure I DID put it on the form, whern I went into the recruitment office to check the form and dispute this vile and odious lie the form was conveniently not in the office and was out with one of the employees. Hmmmmmmm..... strokes chin...... fucking mofos.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went to see a cool play at the contact, hymns. Good and bad points to it but the choreography was good, the script was so so and the acting was alright. Not sure about the ending though. I'll probably want to see more of frantic assembly. I've also signed up for tech lab, a program at the contact that deals with lighting and sound engineering!

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Going out wise

I met Gruff Rhys and Badly drawn boy. Gruff was djing at the cornerhouse last Friday. It wasn't loud enough and there weren't really any good tunes played. Nice to meet the man though, albeit if I had an ulterior motive.

Billy nasty at the attic. "Tortured electro" was a good night.

Been to Jilly's twice since my last post, first time since about May last year. That cock faced bouncer wasn't there either. You'll never catch me now.

Tangled last SaturdaY. Awesome, my first time too. I'll be back
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feeling sleepy. farewell

Post story telling #1 (We must catch up)

2005-02-21T19:33:00.000-08:00

I'm batman.
The world is a far, far rosier and brighter place compared to last week; it's true to say that my predicament is practically identical, time is a great healer though, don't you think? I felt so riled and hurt that I had to internally chew and digest on my brains patterned thoughts in an attempt to reach a state where I could actually talk to people about the painful goings on of the last week. I acknowledge the fact that my behaviour is an antithesis to the more standard reaction to affliction and anguish whereby a person can only feel better by getting things off their chest by making use of varying states such as tearfullness, anger and also disbelief. They will unload these emotions onto their nearest and dearest -Rightfully so in my opinion- until they have cried, talked and screamed all the negativity out in a short term purge. I tend to suppress the emotion which means not thinking about it, definitely not talking about an incident until a few days have passed. A cooling off, containment period as it were. Why fight the enemy head on when they're freshest and at their most strong?
Enough

The Rave
No less than 2 Saturdays ago was the day I had been looking forward to all week. Rave day! As standard nobody really had a clue as to the location of the rave, having a mobile voice mail box number to ring at 21:00 on the night. I felt tense in the hours leading up during the day, mainly due to the situation I knew I was going to find myself in later. You see, on this night I was the lynchpin of the main group of people that was made up of 3 separate groups of people whose only connection to all the other groups was my good self. Add this to the fact that one of these groups was made up of friends I knew at college and hadn't really spoken to in over a year or two and another group was made up of the girl I met at the bus stop and her mates. (See "Whacky Wednesday" entry for full details of this tale) Nobody was punctual to the arranged meeting stop and so I found myself underneath the railway arch opposite the Thirsty scholar drinking a 70cl bottle of Sainsbury's white rum that I had lifted earlier in the day. The first character that approached me was a late twenties scally type individual. He had the haggard face of someone who did too many drugs, a bit like that guy from Heartbeat with the acne scars. A light was what he wanted and was something I could not provide. However, I enjoyed eyeing up the rollie in his hand and decided to walk alongside him, striking up enough chat to give me legitimate access to his bind. As we walked in search of a light, without even pausing in his stride he bent down and grabbed a half empty lager bottle off the steps near revolution and started to unashamedly swig from it. That could have been a Tramps Pissing pot mate! We exchanged alcohol for cigarettes. He kept going on about how long a cheque would take to clear. Oh, and about how great crack and smack were............
I went back to my standing place under the bridge, still no one had arrived. I'd been making conversation on and off with the bouncer for the scholar. He was stony faced but wasn't entirely brain dead and catatonic and so remnants of a conversation transpired in which he almost smiled. I foolishly viewed him as an ally against the world until he started acting all big and hard when his bouncer friend arrived.
"Does your mother know you're out dressed like that?"
'Er, no.... She's in Bury'
"Good, 'cause you look like a right cunt"
Tee hee hee.
I was wearing a white shirt with vertical stripey lines, some sawn off jean shorts with a rancid patch. (not my pants or patch) Ok, so I was wearing coloured, stripey, odd socks but it was till uncalled for. The DJ inside the pub was the Manc from ritz who doesn't have long hair. It was a fuckin' rock night anyway. How dare I be abused! Fuckin' bouncers. Talk about the sex divide on display to the max.
'oh, you're a girl in a short skirt that I have no fucking chance with anyway but because i'm a big hard bouncer I think women love me. They're not being all huggy and friendly because I have power that I can, and often do, abuse. They love me, not because I get free entry. They'd talk to me if I was in civilian clothes'
Wake up you fat, empty headed, drug peddling, conversation starved Gimpanzees. You get your kicks out of treating all other non-boucner men like shit because you can twat "everyone." Oh except when a gang decides to have a pop and you shit your pants. Someone take an uzi to Jilly's and mow down the short, mouthy one with jet black hair. He barred me for opening a door. Yep, opening a door. The main entrance to the club where everyone walks through. You figure it out.
Anyhoo, I went back to my spot across from that nasty little bouncer man and i'm still tucking into my delicious rum. A middle aged, rough looking guy approaches from the left carrying lots of shopping bags, placing himself down on the raised platform. I think he was Scottish.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts at me whilst making the 'drinky drinky' motion.
I pretend to ignore as I find this to be an extremely rude way of requesting something that isn't yours off someone you've neevr even met before or even greeted with a courteous hello.
"ayyyyyyyyyyyyy" he shouts, repeating the same action.
'what? what do you want?'
"drink"
'Oh, you mean you want some of this drink?'
"yes"
'Now, what do you say' said in a patronising, teacher-esque tone
"please, thank you, oh please"
I moved towards him, deciding to grant him the priviledge. He chatted some bollocks abotu his wife which I mainly ignored. The man was sort of half collapsed on this ledge. Suddenly, he leaps up, bends his back over with his head facing my mid rif and charges me in the stomach! I immediately dodge causing him to fall to the floor spilling his shopping everywhere. The pathetic creature then starts whining and calling me over
"come help me, come help me"
er, no. I'm quite charitable but you took the piss there mate.

Ah, the lirbary is shutting. more on this story next time.

"Bouncebackability"

2005-02-17T17:32:00.000-08:00

A term that is going to make it into the brand spanking new dictionary according to my friend who I hate. I'd like to pretend that I'd obtained two V.I.P tour passes for the Eastlands to which I'd invite her along for the day. When we were on the pitch I'd let her enjoy a moment or two, maybe even a lap of honour or a kissing of the turf. Sooner or later I'd pounce, handcuffing her to one of the goal posts after which I'd force feed her Joey Barton's sweaty, stinking socks until she choked and suffocated. I'd then invite a pack of Un*ted shirt wearing southerners to defile and rape the fresh corpse.

Thursday:
I'd agreed to attend Nil by Mouth, a night in its infancy that dwells in the room above Zumebaa* ("trendy" and "cool" refurbished Zumbar.....) First I visited the much more commendable establishment that is the temple and met my friend Molio. J. My condition was manic, enthusiastic and we met two Israeli guys from Fallowfield who were pretty safe. Their hatred of muslims was a tad shocking if not to be expected; we tried to avoid any further conversations regarding religion and/or Palestine as I would have had to kick off with some gob action.

When Fergatron and Dan English donned the decks the night really started to take off at Nil by Mouth as is normally the case. Ending the night on "4" by Aphex was a good call and needed to happen. As soon as Jezanne appeared on the scene it became obvious that she was feeling, well, let's say a little bit randy! Hugging each other is fine, I think people should hug each other more often; this time there was a bit more of an over friendliness that made me think "Ah, hang on a minute." I was feeling fruity and enjoyed dancing with her. Because I was practically sober my endurance dance levels were at a low. As I took one of my multiple rests Jezanne came and sat near me..... practically on me.
"Can I have a kiss?" came the question I was expecting to here.
My initial reaction was, 'Agh, don't really want to do this.' Not because I don't like the girl or think she is attractive. Indeed, earlier in the year I had contemplated moulding her into a fuck buddy type role but had decided against it.
The problem is I don't really view kissing as no big thing. It's intimate and special to me and should be shared between people who care about each other or who have only recently met but find themselves INCREDIBLY turned on by one another. I care about jezanne as a friend, no more, and we'd known each other for over a year so any initial spark had extinguisghed. It was mates kissing mates because they are mates kind of thing. I could think of no negative antiphon, instead deciding I would allow the kiss knowing that I would not enjoy it. Hey prezto, I didn't! It felt forced and awkward, I didn't know what to do with myself afterwards. Jezanne invited me back to her place at the end of the night & I found myself in a veritable pickle. A drunken girl always thinks that with enough cajoling and enough kissing us weak minded men would crumble to their evil whims. The bus journey home containing only the two of us - Thanks to ViceMolRoy and co buggering off in a taxi - turned into a 20 minute justification of why I wanted to go home alone and not indulge my quill in her ink well. Yes I have been thinking about sowing my seeds but with random people that I may never have to see again. Not familiar faces and characters in the saga of my life. It made me feel very uncomfortable. Flattery was felt because someone actually liked me and displayed an interest. Complications would have obviously arisen. One party may have wanted it to continue in whatever way shape or form after the act for instance. I've seen the volatileness of women, I like to keep it at bay.

I've not even got onto Saturday or the horrors of Monday and Tuesday.

I don't really want my friend dead, this separation of our two beings is turning out quite rancorous. We keep lashing out in an attempt to hurt the other.
I've crashed after earlier in the week, piecing myself back together, I'm the only one who is able too and I can't rely on anyone else. Even if I want them close to me.

I stroke the sun, I comb the sea floor.

2005-02-16T18:42:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well.
Wellity, wellity, wellity.
Over a week has passed; a week in which I should have updated numerous times over various days instead of giving one weekly post that will be diluted in emotion, content, and volume. I'm quite reluctant to undertake the seemingly mammoth effort of revealing all here as it's been an emotional Big Dipper of a week.
Up and down, side to side, round and round then back again.

Screw it. It all seems too painful to divulge at this juncture.
Instead?
A group of professionals asked children aged 4-8 the question, "what is love?"

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over
and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all
the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."
Rebecca- age 8

When someone loves you, the way they say your name is
different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."
Billy - age 4

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on
shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."
Karl - age 5

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of
your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."
Chrissy -age 6

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."
Terri - age 4

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she
takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."
Danny - age 7

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired
of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy
and
Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"
Emily - age 8

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop
opening presents and listen."
Bobby - age 7

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with
a friend who you hate,"
Nikka - age 6

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he
wears it everyday."
Noelle - age 7

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are
still friends even after they know each other so well."
Tommy - age 6

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared.
I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and
smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."
Cindy - age 8

"My mommy loves me more than anybody . You don't see anyone
else kissing me to sleep at night."
Clare - age 6

"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."
Elaine-age 5

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still
says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."
Chris - age 7

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left
him alone all day."
Mary Ann - age 4

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her
old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."
Lauren - age 4

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and
little stars come out of you." (what an imagination)
Karen - age 7

"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't
think it's gross."
Mark - age 6

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it.
But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."
Jessica - age 8

And the final one -- Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once
talked about a contest he was asked to judge. The purpose of the contest
was to find the most caring child. The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife. Upon seeing the
man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's yard,
climbed onto his lap, and just sat there. When his Mother asked
what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said, "Nothing, I just
helped him cry"

Football + beer + wine = Ejection & Smashing

2005-02-07T18:12:00.000-08:00

Sunday saw the much anticipated clash between Chelsea and Manchester City; as usual myself and ArtBlu were sat on our very own sofa at Robinskis. There was more excitement in store than usual, City being the only team to have beaten the premiership leaders this season in their previous encounter at the Eastlands. We played valiantly, together as a unit and with some expert saves form James we held the leaders to an impressive, hard fought and well deserved 0-0 draw. I'd already been bought 3 pints and when ArtBlu declared that we were going to carry on drinking as a celebration I was more than happy. A trip to fuzion noodle bar was also declared where we ordered a bottle of wine, ordered our food and ate it accordingly. Twas a lovely meal and it had been a thoroughly enjoyable day so far. I sparked up a cig and was instantly asked to extinguish in the Non-smoking restaurant environment. My friend engaged herself in negotiations with the staff enquiring whether we could go outside for a legal smoke, then come back and finish our wine. From my standpoint the request was asked in a friendly and altogether polite manner. This shaved haired manc who was eating alone, covered in ridiculous sovereign rings, (one of which was a dollar ring!) starts having a go claiming she had been "mouthy" and "rude" to the staff! A little row ensued. We ended our cigs and went back for the wine. ArtBlu tried to make peace with this guy but he was being a twat, claiming he could run to town and back without being tired. Town from Fallowfield isn't that far anyway, hardly an impressive boast anyways. "I'll throw both of you threw that window." Hmm.

Everything starts getting a little hazy. I remember throwing onions across the table at my friend (she detests onions) along with noodles that had spilled onto the table. Pretty low behaviour towards someone who has paid for your food and drinks. She then decides to throw my glass of wine over me at which point I get up, go round to her side finding myself engaged in some type of wrestle which in turn knocks her glas of wine over the table. A member of staff comes over, "Right, that's it, on your way." Ejected from a restaurant! In our inebriated dispositions we both found this amusing and merrily headed to One-stop to get some cash for bruins. I started being a bit of an annoying twat inside the shop, trying to wind up my friend for shits and giggles. For some reason we were both legging it towards Bruins, ArtBlu slipped and took a tumble, injuring both of her knees and forehead in the incident. A demand for more beer was made and granted. How it all happened I don't know but we got involved in a drunken row, both of us saying some really nasty, hurtful things to try and upset the other one. She picked up my phone and threw it across the room where it landed on the floor in tact. I immediately grabbed her phone off the table and launched it against the wall where it smashed into what seemed like a million pieces. Everyone in the bar (about six people) turn to see what's going on and an upset ArtBlu trying to find all the pieces of her phone. I was still so angry that I didn't bother to help and chose to remain in my seat. My hair was pulled and I was hit. Barlady approaches me telling me I'd better leave because I'd seriously pissed her off. I make my way to Macetrix's house to collect my computer, destroying some car wingmirrors along the way. As the night progressed I sobered up, recalling more and more about the night and feeling extremely guilty and shitty. I had no phone credit so I sent a SMS online making my apologies, receiving a similar one back in the morning. I went to uni, we met and made up, both apologising. Her phone is back together although a little battle scarred. Turns out the manager has barred me from Bruins. Boots and Bruins, when will we meet again. I'm not the type of person who you'd expect to get ejected and barred from places, keeps happening though.

Jobnificent(!), Jobray(!), Jobtastic(!)

2005-02-04T17:44:00.000-08:00

This morning I successfully fought and subsequently beat my atrocious sleep self. All he wants is sleep, sleep and more sleep and he will never rest until he gets what he wants, rest. You
KNOW you need to be awake at a certain time for a very important appointment, convincing yourself before you nod off that it will be upheld. When morning comes you're paralysed, constantly hitting snooze, waiting until the very last moment when you either decide to get up or go back to sleep. If you get up you've left yourself so little time that you find yourself in a mad dash rush against impossible odds. If you go to sleep you wake up hours later feeling guilty, shitty and even more tired. Well today I found myself outside Westminster house a full half hour before my scheduled job interview so two fingers to you, nefarious sleep self. We'll meet again, the same way we do every morning. I knew that arriving ten minutes before the interview was in good form, thirty minutes beforehand though seemed a tad sad and desperate. Would I employ someone who arrived that early?
No is the answer.
To a genuine prospective emplyer though the person who has got up nice and early, had their breakfast, planned their outfit the night before and found the place within good time shows numerous qualities that a tight job ship needs. I'd feel dirty though and I guess I just don't want to be tarred with the non-tardy brush. After assessing all my options I decided that my best bet was to go down to the diddy HMV on Market street and treat myself to a few Dvds. I deserved it after all having managed to get out of bed on time. The elephant man, final destination 2 and Ferris Bueller will sit nicely on the other 3 Dvds I treated myself to from yesterday. I don't even have one penny to my name and am operating on my own economic system of Dvds. Each dvd is worth between £2-3. I'm quite tempted to go into gaffs later and make a request to swap a pouch of baccy for a dvd. When I think of having my hair cut next week in my head it costs 2 dvds instead of £5. I felt nothing this time as I stole except a feeling of disguts towards the staff at HMV for letting me get away with it.

I arrived at the halifax ten minutes early as plannned and was seated amongst the other applicants. Some engaged in small talk chat with one another to keep the nerves at bay, others seemed trapped in their own personal hell, the more that time passed the more of their cool they lost. I was also sat there thinking to myself. I knew that I should probably have been thinking about the upcoming interview, preparing model answers to the questions that i knew would be asked but I couldn't be bothered. Instead I was mulling over going back to HMV for another run, deciding against it as my blue coat is very conspicious but promised myself a saturday visit where I may want as much as upto 10 dvds. There was a part of me that knew I had got the job before I met my interviewer and went in to the interview room, before I'd even woken up that day even. An informal chat followed where I warmed to my interviewer and vice versa. Job in pocket I left, knowing that out of 15 vacancies one would surely be mine. Ok, I lied in the interview, telling them what they wanted to hear. Hey, that's life. A few hours later I received the confirmation call, I start on the 14th, that so very special of special days.............
When I had received full confirmation I felt empty inside, a bit disappointed and low. Did I really want a job which had been so easy to obtain. The interview put me under no pressure at all, comparable to a friendly chat in a boozer with a nice chap. I'd offered nothing in way of skills and abilities, in other words I'd got a job that anyone with an iota of a brain could have got. Thanks for making me feel so special halifax. God, I hate them.

Being kicked out of the library now, bye.

I am the sandwich provider

2005-02-03T18:27:00.000-08:00

I forgot to mention on Tuesday that I visited the whitworth art gallery on Sunday afternoon. I wasn't aware that it was actually a part of Manchester University's campus and although it is an inferior gallery compared to the main Manchester art gallery with a lot of the galleries being refurbished it was well worth it. The phoenix brass quintet from the Royal Northern College of Music played a free concert, performing one of the hardest quintet pieces known to man. Good show boys. The tuba player was especially impressive, I'd never seen such complex playing from what is normally an instrument with a relatively boring, simple, back seat part.
Has anyone else heard this phrase before, "Gay dress, empty belly?" It was written on one of the plaques inside the textile exhibition relating to the fact that certain medieval folk chose to buy ornamental, colourful, fancy pants clothes rather than feeding themselves. Also, I wasn't impressed with the work of Ben Nicholson but am told he was one of the most influential 20th century artists blah blah usual arty bollocks talk.

Today I was sat in the God awful food court on Market Street eating my munch from Marks and Spencers. I had a mozzarella and pesto baguette type sandwich left, after my in depth chat with T the day before I decided to find a big issue seller and give to them said sandwich. Delivering it to a man in St. Annes square, he was grateful and it made me feel wholesome, as if it made up for some of my sins. I then made a pact with myself that for every sandwich I pilfer, one will be given to the homeless cause. My stomach was still full yet I wanted to give more so back I went and collected 3 more breaded treats and delivered them. One was hoisin duck and another a sweet potato and 3 bean mexican wrap. I wondered if they were used to such high quality food but decided not to enquire. I simply greeted them, asked if they were hungry and then left. It's a better idea than simply giving money for socially unacceptable drugs, you know which I mean. I made sure that at least one of the sandwiches was vegetarian and it made me think, are there any vegetarian homeless people? Obviously some would have been before their misfortunes but is it viable to uphold such values when food is a scarcity? Possibly they eat whatever they can get their hands on, vowing to return to the non-meat world if they get back on their feet.
Food for thought I'm sure.......

oh dear

Fuzzy kind of weekend / / Banished from Boots

2005-02-01T18:42:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I posted here. Not through lack of trying but due to the laziness of the Manchester Metropolitan university library staff who insist on closing at 16:30 and 13:00 on Fridays and the weekend. Tut. That doesn't fit in with my sleeping schedule at all.
Six by seven haven't sent me the promised e-mail containing their reaction to Made in China's 5 track demo. My belief in them is still as rigid as it was when i knew that they would attend big hands, despite certain members of the group losing faith.

Fuzzy logic at the music box on Friday was a brilliant night, best one of 2005 so far plus the last few months of last year. Dan English set is noteworthy as well as his predcessor who i think might have been Sam? Quality Breaks and DNB electro. A shout out must also go to Mickey Mouse and Mr. Smiley for their contribution.

Watched Citizen Kane for the first time on Sunday. It made the section in Family guy make a lot more sense, annoyed me as well. For those who aren't familiar there is a point in FG when it is mentioned that Peter got into trouble for renting out videos, then taping over them with his own ending. The start of CK shows Charles Foster Kane on his death bed, dropping one of those glass ball snow shaker things and uttering his last words, "Rosebud." For the rest of the film reporters interview everyone they can to try and find out the identity of this mystery Rosebud. You see this first sequence in FG, then Peter cuts in, "It was his childhood sled when eh was a boy. There, I just saved you an hour and a half of crap." Ok, that quote wasn't exact, you get the gist. The film shows that even when you have amassed one of the largest fortunes in the world you can still feel lonely, unhappy and unfulfilled. Yes, he was powerful but he had no true friends, nobody he was close to and both of his marriages were a sham. I neither liked nor hated him though. Good film.

On Monday after collecting my lunch from Marks and Sparks I made my way to the big Boots on Market street in order to collect some hair sculpting product. I made a schoolboy error of making eye contact with the security guard and I could tell that he was watching me. A big part of me told me to put it down and hit one of the other Boots stores but anothe part of me was getting excited at the challenge of getting away with it even though staff in the shop KNEW that I was taking it. I decided to lure him in and see what would happen, pretending to peruse some other items in the hair section before making my way to the food section to collect myself a cream egg. I made my way out of the Cross Street entrance and instantly forgot that I had committed an apparent "crime" and stated unwrapping my cream egg, dropping it on the floor in the process. This pissed me off no end and so I carried on, turned right back onto Market Street racking my brain trying to think of another place to get a cream egg from. I see the guard from Boots about 5 feet away from me on a direct course for me. Contemplate legging it, no point over a pot of gel and so remained where I was intent on playing the dumb fucker.
"What did you just nick from there?"
'nothing'
Starts going through my pockets and finds the trevor sorbie moulding mud in my pocket.
"where'd you get this from?"
'boots earlier today.'
"I just sin you take this innit, come with me"
Grabs me by my coat and starts pulling me through the store
"I'll slap you, I'll fucking slap you" were his words to me, overreaction if you ask me.
Anyways, i'm taken in a lift to the loss prevention room where there was quite a sound guy. Security guy goes back to his job and i'm left in the office. Ask if I can see the CCTV footage of myself, pretty cool actually. I admit my guilt over the cream egg and we both laugh at how petty and pointless this whole affair sees. I'm given a signed letter banning me from the store for "unacceptable behaviour" and we both laugh at the stupidity of the guard who had been told i'd gone out the cross street entrance and was walking up and down Market Street looking for me like a lost little shephard.

Dear .......,

I am writing to inform you that you are no longer permitted to enter this store because of your unacceptable behaviour.
Please note that if you disregard this letter we shall not hesitate to take legal action against you without further warning.

Yours faithfully,
.......

A few words to say mate, I lured you into my little game, you didn't outsmart me in any way. If I had actually given a shit about stealing stuff I would have taken a left and scarpered. Ok, I got distracted by my cream egg. It was my own nonchalance that lead to my capture, you contributed nothing you fucking GIMPANZEE. Would have liked to have seen you slap me you A grade cunt. Who do you think would have been in jail? A guy who stole a £6 tub of moulding wax or the have a go security guard who lays someone else. You cock jockey. I'll be back, right under your fucking nose you sack of pigs' swill. MUNCHER

Whacky Wednesday

2005-01-27T18:57:00.000-08:00

So I'm standing outside Manchester univerty students' union at the bus stop waiting to go into town to do some job hunting after having just acquired my six by seven ticket for that evening's gig. I'm stood reading 'Playing the Moldovans at tennis' and pretty much minding my own business whilst vaguely being aware of the conversation taking place right next to me between two asian looking people, one male and one female. This guy is an asylum seeker, has spotted another person with similar skin colour and decided to accost them on this basis alone. He's in the middle of receiving a stern lecture about benefits, working in the UK etc. after he had been moaning about how "shit" this country is. After he boards his UK North bus the girl turns to me, "Why do all asylum seekers come bothering me, asking me questions and asking for my number just because I've got the same skin colour?!" I didn't hold the answer to that one but offered stories of my Pizza bella delivery boy days where I worked with Iraqi and Iranian asylum seekers - one of which had thrown himself in front of the Euro train so that he'd be brought to the UK for medical treatment and would have to remain. We carried on chatting effortlessly until Fingland's bus arrived, we both hopped on and continued talking all the way into town. Somehow the subject of stealing came up and said girl mentions that there's a big book she needs to buy but it's really expensive. I offer my pilfering servie and suggest that after we get off the bus we should hit waterstones and that's precisely what happened. Some big, bad ass sociology and crimonology book worth £21.99. Too easy waterstones, too easy. Anyhoo, said girl mightily impressed and offers me a reward pint which I gladly accept. It's strange when you meet someone and it's as if you've always known them. When there's no awkwardness or nervousness, you feel totally at ease and the conversation simply flows. We followed it up with a pizza in gemini and by the time it was all over we'd spent about three and a half hours together. How random is that?

Couple of hours later I met everyone at the six by seven gig. It was an alright gig. It's difficult to watch a band that once had 5 memebers, now depleted to three and still continuing to play the classics that involved the full entourage. It's never going to be as good, is it? ViceMolroy had the genius idea of bringing our Made in China demo to hand to the band hoping to nab a support slot or any constructive criticism. We spied the singer at the end, handed it over with a brief chat and then made our way outside to the merchandise stall. Couple of minutes later the organ/electronic member shows his face and I engage in a comfortable, eays chat with him. I asked if we could go backstage because we had a spliff to smoke with the band and he agreed, leading us to meet the rest of the band. Stood chatting and smoking with the guys who were totally safe. Some of it was obsessed, slightly scary fan banter but on the whole it went well. I invited them to big hands about 10 times, nay, DEMANDED that they should come to big hands and they did! w00t. Spent a lot of the night chatting to james (organ man) about music, the music industry etc and he was a formidably affable chap as was Chris the drummer.

What a Wednesday.

Shit.... I fell off the weed waggon about three hours after declaring my abstinence from it. I've got a new one though. Give up smoking cigaretts, but continue with the ganj. Cigarettes have no benefits whatsoever. It was stupid of me not to think of this earlier but there you go. After this pack of baccy, no more. I'm on a collision course to a big, fat, void. In fact, simply typing about cigarettes has kick startes the cravings.

Blue Monday

2005-01-25T14:15:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the most depressing day of the year, apparently. Scientists at Cardiff university worked it all out citing bad weather, failed resolutions and debt as the main causes. You can check out more here : http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/this_britain/story.jsp?story=603464

I don't personally believe any of it and think it is a stupid thing to be wasting time and money on. It's another pointless article to print in newspapers that gets everyone talking......................................

My blue Monday was my shortest day ever, I'm quite certain of it. I went to bed at 4 am, waking at 13:30. There was a sky blue, double deckers job search bus parked in Piccadilly gardens inviting all job hopefuls onboard. I then went to Bury town hall to collect my birth certificate. I exist! On the way home though I was so overcome with tiredness that I had a nap, missed my bus stop too. Crawled into bed as soon as I'd gotten home at 17:30 and slept until 11:30 this morning! That means I was only awake for four hours in one day, then slept for 18. I'm bloody knackered, considering another nap after i've posted this though.

Also, I'm gonna give up schmokin' for a period of time. My first thoughts were for the rest of the year. I'll give up until summer time and take it from there. It's still a good number of months away. Yes, let's do it! Energy here I come.

PS If I find that baggie I had with a Js worth in it then I will smoke that as a celebratpry final toke.

Johnston's liquid beef / Friendly firemen

2005-01-23T19:27:00.000-08:00

So...... Friday

Yes, it was indeed nice to depart from the student ghetto that is Fallowfield and absorb the rustic jollities of Rossendale. The old house at home IS the best pub located in the area stretching from Waterfoot to Haslingden centre (It can't beat the pub in Hasy where you can smoke a nice spliff. Forgotten the bloody name of it now though) and from Burnley to Ramsbottom. It was good to see 1312, his good lady + the Ward Clan, albeit in bereaved sprits. JohnJOpo made a strong case for hitting QUBE, the local Rawtenstall club above a pub that was formerly known as 'Stickies.' He made various claims and promises, many of which proved false as the place was practically empty with only one other dance floor occupant, a thirty odd year old guy going on a bit of a hands in the air, "crazy" spectacle to the Dance/Trance music.
He seemed a bit disgusted when I made certain substance enquiries.
We quickly drank our drinks and made our way to the rhythm station, the classier, more popular of Rawtenstall's thriving 2 club scene. Another big up today goes to JohnJOpo for paying me into both clubs and purchasing my drinks. ** There is also a potentially giant favour in the pipeline coming my way which will be revealed when and if it is successful. Exciting news though my friends. **
So, I was dancing to R+B/pop style music giving it my best shot when I saw a bit of a scuff developing over to my right. All I knew was that it involved:
1) A tall, fat, sweaty, stereotypical blue shirt wearing man with glasses and a scared look on his face
2) A shorter yet harder looking angry white shirt wearing man doing most of the shouting and demanding that a fight should take place
3)An Australian hat complete with dangling corks.
They were both fighting over ownership of this hat....................
'bout 10 minutes later I'm taking a breather whilst remaining perched on the dance floor. Scarier, harder looking white shirt guy comes over to me, leans in and menacingly states into my ear,
"You're too cool to dance."
My first reaction was fear, then adrenaline style trying to talk my way out of it. The best I could manage was feebly saying, 'I've been dancing all night, i'm not cool.'
"You're too cool to dance"
At this point I can detect a watered down, scouse accent which increases the panic ever so slightly.
Come with me he says and we go to some empty seats to sort out our differences.
Turns out he was being....... genuine... as strange as it sounds. Said I looked like someone out of a programme called the OC (never seen it) and when he saw me he'd had a strange urge to chat because he "really wanted to be friends with someone that looked like me." Kept apologising, saying he wasn't gay etc and that he couldn't explain it. He did seem to snigger when he said about the OC but he was a sound guy who bought me two drinks!. Fireman as well and we exchanged numbers.
I was wearing my black, woolish stlye smart pants with grey stripes and a horizontally red striped quite tight tee shirt that looks a bit scallyish. Weirdish experience anyway.

So...... Saturday

I had arranged to meet Artblu in a local scream pub to watch the WBA V. Manchester City game. I'm an honourary blues fan, this is my first season but I do own my own shirt that I got for Christmas. Arrived forty five minutes before game commenced and things were going well until we went down 1-0 within the first five minutes. This turned out to be my bad karma, apparently and because I wasn't a true fan but was wearing a shirt. Lots of things were my fault especially as she got drunker, louder and more aggressive with every passing minute. Ok, WBA are a shite team, bottom of the league and it was very frustrating to be losing to them but ARTBLU was going flippin insane. Screaming, shouting at full volme at the screen in a pub with only 2 other people plus bar staff present. ViceMolRoy joined towards the end and a sort of argument ensued between me and Artblu because she had worked herself up into tears over nonsensical clap trap. This climaxed with her smacking me, full pelt in the face (my jaw still hurts) running of saying she never wanted to speak to me again. Frickin Horrible day. She went back to Bury and so me and Vice went to the student mansion. Got a text later saying she was sorry, I know I'll forgive her and vice versa. Of course we'll be friends. Still fuckd me off though the hurtful things she was saying and assaulting me. I still love her as my best friend though.

I discovered that when Bovril was first invented it was called 'Johnston's fluid beef' haha.

I'm going to try and upload a photo from my digital camera, hoping it will work. If it does, please note, none are photo shopped!

gezing

Back to the valley

2005-01-21T17:17:00.000-08:00

I am exiting the realms of south Manchester this evening to sample the local pub scene in da Rawtenstall. Watch out old house.

My week has consisted of getting Mace to fix my pc so that my 120gb HD was detected on boot up and fully functional - One week without all my tunes and videos was fairly unpleasant. I've now rewatched every episode of Naruto, when will I ever get broadband in my house? I need to see the Gaara V. Naruto clash. Oh cruel fate.
Been job hunting and chilling/smokin'/drinkin with friends. Big up to my mate Dave who took me to the Cornerhouse, buying me doubles of the nicest whiskey i've ever tasted! The name keeps evading me though, baley *&^% or somet (NB Balvenie). Anyways, it wasn't cheap and he spent £90 on drinks for us both and I am tres grateful. The cornerhouse is a bit of a gip; £4 for a pint of leffe and no Hoegaarden on tap. A plus is the incredibly attractive girl that works there though with lovely dark skin.

Myself and Alnamite have been conducting preliminary summer travel discussions. We figure flying over to America, hiring a car and razzing it all over the country. Road trip! I need troff and others to give me employment first.

That is all

How to kill a Friday

2005-01-14T15:50:00.000-08:00

Didn't think I would be back here a day later with the //lanstraum font giving it the old low down.

My day began and with it so did the seemingly never ceasing quest of trying to "get rid of" or put frankly kill my day. Always assuming tomorrow will hold better fortune, not wanting to be ever caught up in this exact moment. Blah.

Some season 2 of Futurama laid waste to 12:30 until 14:30 - season 4 is quite shockingly painful and dire btw. Futurama is nothing compared to family guy. I took a trip out, needing to pay Emjoe back £40 which I'd been owing for a while now. I'm feeling a bit shitty because I'd been thinking one of my friends, Artblu, had been avoiding me as we haven't seen each other for a couple of weeks. It turned out she wasn't and i'd built it up in my head, sending her some rash text messages in the process. I don't think anything is permanently broken, maybe just more mutated and fuckd up. Because of this I feel I need to escape reality for a while and so I pilfered a bottle of sainsbury's own brand whiskey.

I know I promised to various different people that I would stop the thievery, be a law abiding citizen. I know that petty thievery is the lowest of all the criminal activities. Stealing isn't big, but it is clever. Nicking is such a good pickmeup! It's only a temporary high though and I am prone to going overboard, I'm confident that's been nipped in the bud and I foresee only a few relapses over the year. As I was explaining to Natalie, my NY resolution/promise is an ongoing process. It won't magically go away.
I need this whiskey.
If I wake up tomorrow, hung over, I don't want to look back on this day, tut, and say, "What a waste of £5." I simply want to be able to look back and go, "What a waste." Me stealing is only minimising future regret. I won't go into depth regarding my justification for stealing at this juncture.

Need a Naruto fix soon. Off to drink now

Beginnings of the seedling blog

2005-01-13T06:07:00.000-08:00

I have been mulling over the possibilties of planting a blog for what must be many months now, it is time to dust off the old typing fingers, give them a good crack, and thoroughly prepare myself for action. Ever so, ever so, slowly a trickle of slight realisation has swelled into a torrent of epiphanies; I've battened(?) down the hatches but these giant waves keep a-knocking on my brain threatening to engulf and swampify it. I seem to be forever in a loop, telling myself that I am going to achieve and acomplish certain things but never implementing that thought or carrying it out until it's end. It doesn't help that most of the time I don't actually know what I want or what I want to do. Maybe it's time to stop fretting, go out, do something and see what happens. You think? Hence this. My brain is going to rot away at this rate unless I make motions towards stopping the rot, hopefully reversing it along the way. I imagine this blog to be helpful in various ways:

!) I can post anything I want to keep any interested parties updated of my progress. Plus, if I go travelling or move house it can be a good way to keep in touch with people.
") Catharsis. Take my stresses and strains out on people I don't even know.
£) With my new digital camera I can display pics. Fuelling another interest, oh yes.
$)Whether this be my last post or the first of many, one day when someone taps me on the shoulder and says, "Have you ever made one of those online diary type blogmeblog things?" I can honestly say to them, "Yes. Yes I have." W00t

http://dictionary.reference.com/search?q=Procrastination
Dictionary.com lists procrastination as - 'To postpone or delay needlessly.' Personally I prefer the definition - 'TO DEFER ACTION.'

There is more I could pen detailing my justification for this................Hey, it's my first day. I'm gonna slack off, go home early and sleep thinking i'm onto a winner. I'll hate my job after three days.

Today has been pants. I went into Brook street recruitment agency to have a free scan at their copy of Manchester Evening News. The Thursday addition is job day - 46 pages of jobs. Yeah, 46 pages of jobs that I can't do. So demoralising turning page after page of jobs you don't have anough experience to apply for. How do you gain experience when the majority of employers are reluctant to give anyone without experience experience! I knew I should have lied more on my CV....... I'm seriously considering tarting it up with degrees. jobs and phony reference numbers and land myself a nice £20k a year job. It's doable with some considerable effort though. Kind of in a bind at the current time.
Having lost my wallet in about May last year I find myself with no driving license.
I have no passport.
I lost my birth certificate.
I lost my change of name deed poll.
I also thought i'd lost my cash card, it's at Molio though and i'll pick it up later.
Yeah, i'm pretty much screwed seeing as I can't prove who I am to any prospective employer.

This is bringing me down low. It'll all come good. More positive news to follow

PS - Check out the schizzel at my mate's blog site. http://www.thirteentwelve.com