Has me in its grip. unfortunatly its none too gentle in its handling of the Kilgour account and i suspect that it will soon grow weary and toss me painfully aside. fads like that nevere last anyways, specially when for some inexplicable reason people are actually jealous of you and want to bear your child.
Or something like that, but very different and a bit more coherent
So still working a lot, now sleeping less-trying to drink less too so mabey it'll balance out on the scales of my skin that wears my sins. maybe i should get a tatoo with a catchy slogan of my own design on it. none spring clean to mind though
I'd do something special and amazing today probably but i'm just too damn tired. bet theres a shit load of tortured artists/factory workers that sit on the couch each night and think much the same. and THEY have dental
was dead arty and alternative the other day, watched the science of sleep and eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. read the right books and see the right films and you'll apparently become a better person, with broader horizons and an understanding of yourself and others. hell i even drew a big ass picture with crayons and baked bread. gotta distract yourself.
thought of the day-two tired to think tank
Friday, 25 July 2008
Wednesday, 23 July 2008
behold my adultness
work work work work work work work work work work work. And you know what, it seems 13 hour shifts don't quite cut the deejong mustard anymore, its gonna go up to almost 14. Still i have a plan to be coldly effecient and ruthlessly polite in my dealings with managment from now on. after all, clearly they would prefer us to be one big happy family where we talk about ourselves, but lets see how they cope with a mechanical black sheep in their midsts.
After many others have exclaimed! concern about all the wierd things that are wrong with my body, i myself am finally becoming worried about my health. this has been brought on by loss of sleep due to the various aches and pains going on for reasons both well and unknown. i might have to do the unthinkable and actually try and work out how to use this so called health system we got going on here. apparently i'm entitled to it for paying taxes (which i will claim back via my studentness bahahah)
me and friends saw donkey punch. better than i was expecting but then there was also more nudity than i was expecting. no way shall it measure up to BATMAN on friday. here is an extract of our post film banter.
"buy me a drink or i'll donkey punch ya!"
"donkey punched shrek"
"if you had to do a pokemon, which would it be"
"I'd do ditto, because it could be anyone"
"wouldn't it just be you, and wouldn't its face be all messed up?"
"ah, but i'd do it from behind"
"and then donkey punch it!"
"I'd do snorlax, more cushion for the pushin"
"but it would keep falling asleep on you"
"so you donkey punch it!"
"but then it hyper punches you back in some kinda weird pokemon S&Mness"
and then we all drank a lot.
thought of the day-you've simply not lived until you've sat on a toilet seat constructed entirely from bog roll
After many others have exclaimed! concern about all the wierd things that are wrong with my body, i myself am finally becoming worried about my health. this has been brought on by loss of sleep due to the various aches and pains going on for reasons both well and unknown. i might have to do the unthinkable and actually try and work out how to use this so called health system we got going on here. apparently i'm entitled to it for paying taxes (which i will claim back via my studentness bahahah)
me and friends saw donkey punch. better than i was expecting but then there was also more nudity than i was expecting. no way shall it measure up to BATMAN on friday. here is an extract of our post film banter.
"buy me a drink or i'll donkey punch ya!"
"donkey punched shrek"
"if you had to do a pokemon, which would it be"
"I'd do ditto, because it could be anyone"
"wouldn't it just be you, and wouldn't its face be all messed up?"
"ah, but i'd do it from behind"
"and then donkey punch it!"
"I'd do snorlax, more cushion for the pushin"
"but it would keep falling asleep on you"
"so you donkey punch it!"
"but then it hyper punches you back in some kinda weird pokemon S&Mness"
and then we all drank a lot.
thought of the day-you've simply not lived until you've sat on a toilet seat constructed entirely from bog roll
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Clearly....
The iranian missle program was secretly funded by america in order to coerce the french out of their oil development technology contract with iran, with the double bonus of justifying an increased military presense in israel.
watching the news and reading the papers does strange things to a man.
watching the news and reading the papers does strange things to a man.
Monday, 14 July 2008
Hooch isn't THAT crazy
I read this somewhere once, and I reckon others could benefit from reading it here
when your young you don't care what the world thinks of you. then you grow up and start to worry a bit what it thinks. finally you realise that in fact, it just doesn't think about you.
that sounds pretty naff actually. it was probably more eloquently written originally, and my bastardisation has watered it down like they water down the vodka at the student union.
Back at work. in some ways its a relief, and I pity all you people that have time on your hands and thoughts on your mind and neiter will let lie. work is an anchor to reality, and i drift enough as it is anyways. unfortunatly, though i thought i would feel better about my job after taking a breakm from it, it's still the same old pish day in and out. I suspect new employment is on the horizon, in an ideal world something in a bookshop or gaming retail outlet.
Having said that...all of you need bloody jobs. and not pishy 12 hour a week ones. It'll give less time to brood on things. and what old pappa smurf/karl marx seemed to have neglected in his manly festo is that as well as being aleinated from the good stuff, your also insulated from the crap stuff. all you gotta do is trade in your dreams, and only only one that has stuck out as of late is the one where i was a border immigration control officer of narnia.
speaking of reality anchors, another good one is family. went up for the annual kilgour house party and am mighty glad i did, despite the 7.30 rise for work in the morn. saw some old friends and shot the shit with snipers on the roof. one thing i really like about going home is (don;t laugh) the smell. by no means is it the most pleasant of smells, but hot damn there aint nothing more real than driving past a farm and breathing in the fertile fertiliser.
thought of the day-sometimes it seems that all we do is spend all our lives paraphrasing
when your young you don't care what the world thinks of you. then you grow up and start to worry a bit what it thinks. finally you realise that in fact, it just doesn't think about you.
that sounds pretty naff actually. it was probably more eloquently written originally, and my bastardisation has watered it down like they water down the vodka at the student union.
Back at work. in some ways its a relief, and I pity all you people that have time on your hands and thoughts on your mind and neiter will let lie. work is an anchor to reality, and i drift enough as it is anyways. unfortunatly, though i thought i would feel better about my job after taking a breakm from it, it's still the same old pish day in and out. I suspect new employment is on the horizon, in an ideal world something in a bookshop or gaming retail outlet.
Having said that...all of you need bloody jobs. and not pishy 12 hour a week ones. It'll give less time to brood on things. and what old pappa smurf/karl marx seemed to have neglected in his manly festo is that as well as being aleinated from the good stuff, your also insulated from the crap stuff. all you gotta do is trade in your dreams, and only only one that has stuck out as of late is the one where i was a border immigration control officer of narnia.
speaking of reality anchors, another good one is family. went up for the annual kilgour house party and am mighty glad i did, despite the 7.30 rise for work in the morn. saw some old friends and shot the shit with snipers on the roof. one thing i really like about going home is (don;t laugh) the smell. by no means is it the most pleasant of smells, but hot damn there aint nothing more real than driving past a farm and breathing in the fertile fertiliser.
thought of the day-sometimes it seems that all we do is spend all our lives paraphrasing
Tuesday, 8 July 2008
spread so thin i just aint there
lately i've been havin these wierd chrisis of reality moments. where everything becomes so bloody thin and streched to the point where they, and me, just aren't there. now this normally wouldn''t be much of a problem, what with me not being the kinda guy to impact the world much, but what pisses me off is the way it is now making me feel physically sick. i actually need to stop whatever it is i'm doing until it passes. also, it never used to happen unless i was on my own, but now that small immunity has worn off.
maybe its just down to FINALLY finishing american psycho. forcing my way through all the boob chopping and muff aciding was worth it for those moments of worrying clarity that kept cropping up.
maybe its just down to FINALLY finishing american psycho. forcing my way through all the boob chopping and muff aciding was worth it for those moments of worrying clarity that kept cropping up.
i'd like to frame her narrative!
THE TALE
The three women wondered across the barren deserted desert, drinking bottles of oasis to hydrate their wilting skin. The wind blew hard, causing the yellow sea to swirl and ripple and foam and lash about them. As they progressed one of the women accidentally kicked something that jutted out the sand. She bent down to examine it and picked it up. Typically it was a lamp
She called her friends over and they gathered around it.
“It’s a lamp”
“Perhaps it’s magic. Try rubbing it”
The woman tried, rubbing hard with callous hands caused by a lifetime of sacrifice to the domestic goddess. The lamp winced
“You are doing it wrong, let me try”
Her friend wetted her fingers on her lips and stroked the lamps tip, caressed its underside using both her hands. This time the lamp shuddered slightly. But nothing emerged from its wick.
“I have an idea”
The final woman stuck the wick in her mouth and rolled her tongue about it in smooth circular motions. This proved to be too much and the genie shot out. The woman swallowed
“Shit, sorry force of habit”
THE END
John deflated the condom. Christ, short stories written on rubbers, what will they think of next? He carefully pinched the tip where THE END was written and slid the ring that said THE TALE down. To the disappointment of his girlfriend, it was quite a short story.
The three women wondered across the barren deserted desert, drinking bottles of oasis to hydrate their wilting skin. The wind blew hard, causing the yellow sea to swirl and ripple and foam and lash about them. As they progressed one of the women accidentally kicked something that jutted out the sand. She bent down to examine it and picked it up. Typically it was a lamp
She called her friends over and they gathered around it.
“It’s a lamp”
“Perhaps it’s magic. Try rubbing it”
The woman tried, rubbing hard with callous hands caused by a lifetime of sacrifice to the domestic goddess. The lamp winced
“You are doing it wrong, let me try”
Her friend wetted her fingers on her lips and stroked the lamps tip, caressed its underside using both her hands. This time the lamp shuddered slightly. But nothing emerged from its wick.
“I have an idea”
The final woman stuck the wick in her mouth and rolled her tongue about it in smooth circular motions. This proved to be too much and the genie shot out. The woman swallowed
“Shit, sorry force of habit”
THE END
John deflated the condom. Christ, short stories written on rubbers, what will they think of next? He carefully pinched the tip where THE END was written and slid the ring that said THE TALE down. To the disappointment of his girlfriend, it was quite a short story.
Had me a spit roast
with my gran no less. plus plenty of other old folk. there are even pictures kicking about somewhere. to be honest it was like something out of astrix, with a whole pig turning on a spit and people feasting around. this was all down to it being my grans 70th, which we flew down to england for.
now family do's for me are a bit of a mixed bag. on the one hand its nice to see them all and score some free grub and booze. on the other its a bit weird and awkward to be groped by old women that are probably related to you in some distant way, with my mum dragging me up and saying with a flushed face "don't i grow them well!"
And theres always THE QUESTION. Now i don't really dread THE QUESTION much, but repeating the same old answer to THE QUESTION can get a bit tedious and depressing. "got yourself a girlfriend yet robert?" Never been able to answer yes. stock replies include "her name is alice and she';s just left primary school" and "actually, i'm still trying to find the courage to come out the closet"
The men tend to assume that i'm playing the field (which, despite rumours circulated by myself, remains largely untrue) and make disturbing comments about their own mis/wellspent youth. The women are much worst, mentioning young ladies they know, the fact that my cousin of 12 has a girlfriend and alluring to the notion that if only they were a little bit younger...
in other news i have lost me phone. New number can be found on writers website or on msn. thats what i get for taking it out on the aircraft and exclaiming "look at me! I'm playing snake...ON A PLANE!" Hell, lets put the number online. you can't justifiably be afraid of peodophillia when your 20 anyway (unless its contagious!) 07503 443 261
A new craze is gripping the nation (courtesy of my brother) hitting your friends and co-workers in the back of the head whilst exclaiming "donkey punch!" lets see if it catches on or not.
thought of the day-none of the communists i know actually have jobs
now family do's for me are a bit of a mixed bag. on the one hand its nice to see them all and score some free grub and booze. on the other its a bit weird and awkward to be groped by old women that are probably related to you in some distant way, with my mum dragging me up and saying with a flushed face "don't i grow them well!"
And theres always THE QUESTION. Now i don't really dread THE QUESTION much, but repeating the same old answer to THE QUESTION can get a bit tedious and depressing. "got yourself a girlfriend yet robert?" Never been able to answer yes. stock replies include "her name is alice and she';s just left primary school" and "actually, i'm still trying to find the courage to come out the closet"
The men tend to assume that i'm playing the field (which, despite rumours circulated by myself, remains largely untrue) and make disturbing comments about their own mis/wellspent youth. The women are much worst, mentioning young ladies they know, the fact that my cousin of 12 has a girlfriend and alluring to the notion that if only they were a little bit younger...
in other news i have lost me phone. New number can be found on writers website or on msn. thats what i get for taking it out on the aircraft and exclaiming "look at me! I'm playing snake...ON A PLANE!" Hell, lets put the number online. you can't justifiably be afraid of peodophillia when your 20 anyway (unless its contagious!) 07503 443 261
A new craze is gripping the nation (courtesy of my brother) hitting your friends and co-workers in the back of the head whilst exclaiming "donkey punch!" lets see if it catches on or not.
thought of the day-none of the communists i know actually have jobs
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