ENERGIZED!

TO COMMEMORATE POST 100!
if you were to chase me with a sponge, pin me to the ground and wipe away all my sweat then can it and sell it. this is what would happen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk

now a broadway musical

Twas a moonless night...because the sun had exploded! Earth is no more and humanity now lives among the stars, either cruising for centauries among the great generation ships or traversing the perils of folded space. Water is the only truly universal currency and the only law is that of the llazzzerrr, imposed by intelligent unfeeling machines! A gallant crew of misfits steals a time -atron from the galactic robot empire in a desperate bid to escape from this harsh era, but it malfunctions, bringing back an unlikely hero from the past. Now, it will take the world’s greatest playwright to teach robots humanity and restore the liquid life blood to a cold parched space. And thus begins the adventures of...Shakespeare and the Ice pirates!

The robot glared menacingly at the prisoners with its cold red eyes. It readied its chest mounted las-cannon
"terminate. terminate"
a voice behind it called "to be or not to be, let me answer that question for you"
Shakespeare pulled the trigger of his mk2 RPG
BOOOOOOOM
"Exit, stage left" he said, blowing on the smoking barrel

going nowhere and thrilled to death about it

well i wish i could care
but i find i don't mind
that the truth of my lies
has gone left me behind

so sing yourself hoarse
hear the words grow coarse
that forked silver spoon
has corroded remorse

and the funny thing is
i know who's the source
yeah the funny thing is
I know who's the source

I stare at my reflection
who just glares back at me
and i swear that we get along fine
but under closer inspection
theres nothing to see
just his eyes fleetingly meeting mine

mentioning lesbians gets more readers

and yet this blog is choc full of barely repressed homoerrotica. So tuedays was a fun day. a simply fabulous playwrite (one tim fountain) came to visit the writers society. works of his include "how to lose and alienate your friends" (i could have wrote that) and "the puppetry of the penis" we had good banter and i got some free muffins outta the deal so hurrah. was a bit mashed anyways though as it was stewarts not quite birthday and was buying him and me hooch all day.

after that went back in and somehow ended up swapping t-shirts with a girl. I tell you that tight white cottom felt pretty damn good against my skin but alas, it failed to cover a considerable part of the abbed carpet that is my chest.

round about 1 am me and chewi went outside for delicious free cheese toasty goodness, as given very generously but the christain society. how best to repay their kindness? debate religion! questions included;

if you can be a good person without beleiving in god, does that mean good people go to hell
if knowelge of god is required to gain access to heaven, what about all those unfortunates who never heard about god-its hardly their fault (ie babies or people in quiet corners of the earth)
if god gave man free will, but not angels-why did lucifer and a 3rd of the host rebel?
if the flood and noahs ark happened-aren';t we all commiting incest
surely it was a good thing the devil tempted eve with the fruit of knowelge, as humans were not self aware or free willed until that point. after all in a dystopia you have no choice, and in a utopia you don't need choice.

of course i conceded that quite a lot of good is done by the bible, and anyways i'm kinda lacking when it comes to any kind of conviction. so the debate kinda fizzled when i went back for more hooch and fleshy sinning

hurray for vommit

Had myself a fairly abusive weekend, which started on wednesday actually. Went home and of course was DEMANDED to have a drink with rossy boy and assorted crew. any news in the 3 months i've been away guys? uhhhhhhhh no. truly its the village that time forgot. then again maybe the changes are too subtle for my newly developed fast paced city eyes to percieve. then again maybe i'm talking bullshit.

so had the customary bottle of vodka and night of videogaming and i impressed them all by talking to actual women on my MSN. then thursday went back to the big smoke with my brother and his assorted crew. There was much drinking and innappropriate remarks again and we arrived home at 4am. In a mad fit of madness had yesterdays kebab for breakfast, but no doubt all the alcohol in my stomach helped to sterilise it.

friday had work. fairly mellow shift but them some dude vommited in the toilet and i was asked to clean it up. thing was he was still there, along with his grieving girlfriend. she kept asking me if he'd be ok and started crying. maybe i shouldn't have suggested the idea that he might have been spiked. got slightly annoyed at other folk who came in and assumed, with a full blue roll in my hands, that i was the toilet attendant dude

BUT, as a reward the manager gave me two free drinks on top of my free staff drink. add that to the 2 that john owed me and the fact that i was dehydrated meant bob got in a fairly merry mood, talking shit to all who would and weren't listening. we ended up having an improve staff night in till 4 am and a good time was had by all. i'd clean up spew any day for that kinda random awesomeness

yesterday had a shit 12 hour shift and a good wack of sloppy bobs hobo drunky juice, a cocktail of my own design. take one pear koppenberg and add a nice hit of vodka to it. drink and repeat.

all the modernism books are gone from the library and i have to give a talk on one.

reportage

I cheated and reworked an earlier entry for reportage homework. and to aid me in reaching post 100!!! here it is

Reportage

I walked home from work tired and sore, carrying my Tesco’s own brand shopping. The carrier bags clunk and bash together and off my legs. I walk quickly as it’s a cold night and the chill is working its was into me through my sweat stained t-shirt and thin jacket. People walk past just as briskly, looking like they have places to be and are in a hurry to be there. They stare straight ahead, never meeting each others eyes.

There are exceptions to this rule though, like those doing surveys or street work. I’m in for Oxfam twice over myself, once with a made up address. The Goranga people in particular are quite persistent. I keep seeing the same two everywhere, though never during winter. Maybe they migrate to warmer climates.

One is named Hano and is cross eyed behind his glasses. I don’t know the other’s name but she always has a green tartan bag on wheels, full of books. The kind old grannies all seem to have. She also always looks stoned, but maybe this is just part of enlightenment and achieving true happiness. She gave me a book once that I still have somewhere. People ignore them a lot but they seem harmless enough. Just say the mantra and they’re as happy as Harry Krishna.

The drone of the traffic fades to a dull murmur as I pass central station and head away from the city centre. There is a plush hotel, with large windows and stylish decor. I think it’s called the Ramada. Sometimes it has a red carpet leading in into it with people in dresses and suits smoking outside. It even has a door man on duty, who wears a plain kilt that looks more like a skirt for its own lack of tartan.

Immediately after this most of the buildings become drab and derelict and the streets become paved and cobbled with ancient chewing gum, as is the case with many streets in Glasgow. In the distance the Hilton and The Marriot stand tall and grim. Just beyond them and next to the motorway is my destination.

Halfway home a young girl approaches me and I stop walking. She looks about sixteen, but is dressed older. Tight clothes showing behind a thin cream jacket. She is slim to the point of being scrawny. I have an idea about what she’s going to say to me before she says it.
“Looking for business are ya?”
“Fraid not sorry" I say, having experienced this before. On this street in particular it’s happened 3 other times. Two of them were very old and very painted and looked very bored. The other one was surprisingly attractive, but a poverty stricken student can’t really entertain such notions.

She nods at my reply. It’s a pragmatic gesture. The word “business” seems quite fitting.
“Its murder trying to find business this early at night” she confides to me.
I nod back and try to look like I understand this incomprehensible notion. We chat and stand idly a few minutes. I make jokes as a way of being on common ground and she laughs. I start walking homeward again. She falls in step with me. I worry

Feeling foolish but doing so anyway I ask “You hungry?”
She nods and I go into my bag and pull out a banana. They’re cheap and I have a large bunch anyway.
She eats it right in front of me. The irony is not lost. I didn’t even need to pay to watch. She keeps the skin rather than immediately throwing it away and when we pass a bin she pops it in. Much later on I have the wry thought that if you are indeed working the streets, you probably want them to be lacking in refuse.

“Thanks” she says
“Well I got to go home now” I tell her
“See ya”
“Bye”
I walk away and she goes in the opposite direction. Looking back I see her slowly disappear from view around the corner. Despite walking down this street pretty much everyday I don’t see her again.

I cross the motorway, dodging traffic and arrive home, located on the very appropriately named Cheapside Street.

i can taste blood in my throat

I'm hungry I'm hungry I'm hungry. The floor is soft and cosy but my brother, larger and louder, keeps pushing me against the wall, and thats sore and jaggy. But I'm nice and warm from being so close to my brothers and sister. nice and warm and cramped and stuck. Sisters been very quiet, I think somethings wrong. I can't tell cause it's always dark or grey light and i can't see. The only time its light is when there is a click and a big glow appears in the sky and i can see so much! I think that the glowing ball must be the sun

My mum comes home and feeds me
my dad comes home and feeds me
my mum comes back and feeds me

I miss out sometimes, my louder bigger brother never does and my small silent sister always seems to. she must be so hungy

I can see a grey dirty floor and a wheel barrow. I can see a tall man stride in with a bucket. theres loud clunking behind me and then he strides out again and the sun goes back out with another click.

Its night and mum comes back home to sleep and pecks me on the cheek. Ouch!

Pickle my liver and ferment my heart

today is St patricks day! The history of this mysterious event is largely shrouded in mystery. it's known that in 400bc when the egytains were fighting the irish in small skirmishes that had yet to break out into a full war, one irish confederate struggled behind enemy lines. riding through the deserted desert on his taun taun and dodging rail gun campers he stumbled across a beautfuil oasis. it was full of the most delicious creamy dark substance ever, which he named guiniss. exept an evil genii guarded it and said he would only permit the chap to drink from it if he answered these questions 3. the irish man threw a pig at the gennii that he had stashed under his arm and it exploded! And that was how john'o patrick became famous all throughout the lands!

home is NOT where you hang your hat

And i seem to have misplaced mine anyway. So maybe a little jaunt to the pound shop is nesisary. after all, now gone 3 weeks without shaving and so am seriously workin the homeless image. so a shabby tammy can only make things better. anyways, it turns out that Chino's are NOT acceptable student wear (family motto is comfort over style though) particularly beige chinos with ink stains that look like splash back.

operation avoid women didn'g go so well. maybe it really should be operation avoid drinking many many alcohol. though in fairness aside from the urban liver abuse that is 12 hour tuesdays, i've not really indulged much, not even in the ever so comfortable domestic setting.

To be honest drinking is kinda losing its mystique. back home it be something that would happen at a friends house maybe once a fortnight, and you'd spend all the intervening time planning how best to enjoy it to its fullest. with videogames and poker and canoes and football. now its just something I do.

I miss home and friends and family and theres a possibility that my easter holidays will be spent working full time. bah

part 2

At the next stop he took his chance and squeezed past the weathered leather man and hunted for a seat elsewhere. But bad luck seemed to follow him like the bad weather. At this stop many old people boarded and took all the seats in the front. All the seats at the back were gone as well so he was left standing in the gangway alone. In front of everyone else’s watching eyes. He tried not to breathe to fast or heavily or meet anyone’s gaze.

Except he did meet someone’s gaze. The pretty girl had stood up as well and stood next to him. Confusingly and worryingly she smiled at him. Even more worryingly confusing was that she began to speak to him.
“That was nice of you.”
He gave her a scared uncomprehending look
“Giving up your seat like that. I don’t think many of them at the back would have.” She subtly gestured back to where the not very nice people looked down on them, leering at her and jeering at him.

He tried to reply with a grunt a squeak came out instead. Fortunately it was quiet enough that she did not hear so he was able to resound a second time with a slightly more assured mumble of “thankyou.”

The bus jerked forward and he stumbled backwards into her. She almost fell but regained her balance by hooking her arms around one of the poles. Benjamin struggled back up as well, the weight of his wet jacket making this difficult.

“Sorrysorrysorry” he muttered, trying not to turn red and burn hot with embarrassment. He hooked his own arm around a pole. Unfortunately this was where the stop button was and it began to beep again and again and again. Benjamin did not realise it was his doing until the bus driver told him to stop doing it. Except he said so with different words.

He resolved to get off at the next stop as the situation on this bus looked like too much effort to resolve. It was still a long way off till the right stop but waiting was something that had never bothered him. You waited for something and then it came and then you waited for it to either stop or change. That was life. Waiting for death. He didn’t actually think these things. He just read them and repeated them in his own mind and the mindless repetition meant that he stopped minding about other things on his mind. Such as the way he looked clumsy and stupid in front of a pretty girl and old people and not very nice people.

Having calmed and convinced his dull linear mind that staying on the bus and waiting for the correct stop was the correct decision he turned his attention back to standing still and not falling. The girl next to him did not appear to be angry and the bus driver was no longer glaring at him in the mirror in a glaringly obvious fashion. In fact, the girl had plugged into her I-pod and was singing quietly. He recognised the lyrics and mouthed them silently, trying not to move his lips.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
But have we found the same old fears

The bus suddenly braked with a jolt as the driver decided at the last second that the orange light he was close to running was too close to the red light. The pretty girl fell forward and Benjamin tried to catch her. He succeeded in keeping her upright, except now he had let go of the pole to stop her from falling, he fell. It would have hurt more if he wasn’t wearing his coat but it still hurt a bit. She looked down on him with concern and concerned herself with helping him up. Seeing that he was ok she laughed and smiled and said, “Thanks for saving me.”
“Makes us even,” he muttered unevenly.

Now feeling more awkward and hot than ever, he looked around and picked up a moist copy of the Metro and did the sudoku in his head. He felt that eye contact was beyond him right now, though he imagined he could feel the pretty girl’s eyes making contact with him, along with many others. The boring eyes of the bored passengers aboard all boring into him like bore drills. It was not a very nice feeling.

Finally after what seemed like an eternity of hot wet awkward progress the bus arrived at its destitute destination of Haddon Street, where he lived and sometimes ate and slept and watched Pingu. He wanted to say bye to the pretty girl as he left but didn’t as he was worried the doors would close. So he got off the bus in a rush, glad to be out of its stifling confines, but regretting his to decision of indecisiveness. He wondered home and wondered if he would ever see her again.

“That was some adventure eh?” said a happy voice behind him. “So, do you live round here as well?”
He tried to reply without mumbling or muttering and found that he could so he did
“Yes,” he said.

unfinished and untitled

and probably ungrammared....


Benjamin Tobias waited for the bus to stop a slight distance from the bus stop. Consequently he did not received the benefit of the shelter provided by the bus shelter, and the large grey coat he wore wore a thin coating of rain from the rain that came down from large grey clouds. Had he recognized all of the faces if those sheltering in the shelter then he might have considered joining them. As it stood though, he elected not to sit in the spare seat and stood his ground, stoically enduring the elements

In time the bus arrived. A brief inspection revealed that it was the wrong one-a forty-one instead of a one-o-one, so Benjamin did not move to meet it. In the fullness of more time the correctly numbered bus rendezvoused with the stop, but there were far too many bored looking people aboard for himself to board. In the fullerness of morer time the bus arrived, unburdened by excess passengers. However the bus driver had a moustache and today was a Friday, so Benjamin could not and would not board. Finally the bus arrived and he boarded, rushing to join the few that queued. He held his bus pass up to the non moustached bus driver with both hands for exactly four seconds.

The bus lurches forward and he stumbled forwards. He sat in an empty seat near the front so that he was close to the door. It seemed to him that Not very nice people sat at the back of bus, taking loudly and swearing loudly and playing loud squeaky music on their phones. Hoping that no one would sit next to him he began folding his ticket into different shapes and wrapping it round his fingers like it was a snake coiling around his fingers.

The bus made several stops at several bus stops. More people got on and no one got off. He was worried that it would become so busy that someone would sit next to him. The bus rolled on and he tried to look like someone that people would not like to sit besides. The air began to grow hot and wet with all the hot wet people breathing in and out. He tried to breathe small cold shallow breaths.

At the 5th Bus stop a girl boarded. She was very pretty and had a happy face and long curly red hair. She did not sit next to him, which didn’t sit very well with him. Instead a large man in a leather jacket with a weathered face sat next to him, taking up most of the space. He very much wanted to move but the movement of the bus made this impossible. So he contented his discontented self with clutching and unclenching his hands in his coat pockets so that no one could not see.

these new duel disks are simply fabulous!

some people i never met commented on my blog! and they're female!! score one for putting pictures of other people online and pretending that their you. fortunatly for all concerned i am farrrr too lazy and complacent to be a competent stalker, let alone an internet predator of the sexual varitey, (insert joke about sticky keyboard). And, as one comment suggested, i think i will give up one of my many vices. And i'm sure it doesn't need to be said that it isn't the holindaze sauce. no its a (temporary of course) abandonment of that little gem that is womanising!

Thus begins my strict regime of mediocre hygiene (catchy). No more shaving or conditioning of hair-grease makes for a poor mans gel anyways. and there will be at least one sexist joke told every day. "how can you tell when a womans about to say something smart? because she begins "a man once told me.." Hiliarity and high jinx will ensue, hopefully with a lack of castration.

I will also act extra UNmanly (DUN DUN DUN) from now on. for example last night I watched clueless and cried at the end of Crash. how do ya like them apples! on the other hand this was somewhat spoiled by my flicking over to celebrity sex tapes unwound during the adverts.

thought of the day-will the hair on my face one day meet that one my chest?

drowning jimminy cricket, but never fatally

Guilt is a big part of the bob package. i feel guilty about things i've done 1o years ago, and if i see someone who i've in some way wronged, then i feel bad and uncomfortable and slighty ashamed when i'm in their presence. This is a good thing i think. it keeps me from making the same mistake twice.

On the other hand, when the mood takes me (and it take me often) I'm also a big fan of the sauce. the two do not make for good bed fellows. for when i've decided to get good and drunk and achieve this lofty goal, i turn into a cunt. not that i'm all that great a guy when sober (though i put on a damn good act) And being a cunt means doing cuntish things, which of course i cannot go into details, but suffice to say a lot of guilt trips arrive at their destination of my concience after a night of boozey Mcgee

so yeah, in summary, i'm not all that