Guess who totally scored a bottle of ketel one vodka last night? MEEEEEE. Hopefully no one will realise that the only reason I am buying such an extragant liquid is because it keeps getting mentioned in the now web comic of choice Achewood. Whoops! too late. But maybe, deep down, I wanted to be caught. It's certainly true that that shit is smoooooth man.
Last nights zany antics inspired this poem for my next creative writing class. Blame Bukowski for making me think its ok to write about shit like this.
Damn you Mr Daniels
I am riddled with shots
from a duel with a
Southern gentleman
My insides feel like
They’re trying to make it outside
A peristalsis betrayal
Stomach is trying
To copy Russian gymnasts
Summersault assults
My body, filled with sin
Casts the first stones
At my kidneys
A cowardly liver
Turns yellow at the sight
Of its mighty workload
Whilst my bladder
Taunts me
With its weakness
Friday 20 November 2009
Wednesday 18 November 2009
Robert in...BLUNDERLAND
Wouldn't you know it, they moved my bloody essay submission date a whole month the wrong way. and due to a lack of observance at the critical moment i only found this out on the bloody day it was due. Cue 3000 words of sheer pish in 2 days from me, the worst of which was my confidently declaring that Alice in wonderland was a text promoting veganism.
Also, wheres a brother to buy to ketel one vodka in Glasgow???
Also, wheres a brother to buy to ketel one vodka in Glasgow???
Tuesday 17 November 2009
lyrics for drunken guitar playing
Modern times make a clockwork mind
Mines gone rusty from the daily grind
So I lube it up with weak willed liquor
To make the week pass by quicker
To make it pass I’ll make some passes
Stare at tits and grab some asses
Come the morn you can smell the musk
Split like glue and piss like rust
What say you to a heart slow beating?
Rest your head on my central heating
Sweat will stick and cling like dew
As you lie with me while I lie to you
I got more tears than a crocodile
Got more dreams than a paedophile
Full of more shite than a sewer pipe
My souls an arse that needs a wipe
Mines gone rusty from the daily grind
So I lube it up with weak willed liquor
To make the week pass by quicker
To make it pass I’ll make some passes
Stare at tits and grab some asses
Come the morn you can smell the musk
Split like glue and piss like rust
What say you to a heart slow beating?
Rest your head on my central heating
Sweat will stick and cling like dew
As you lie with me while I lie to you
I got more tears than a crocodile
Got more dreams than a paedophile
Full of more shite than a sewer pipe
My souls an arse that needs a wipe
Friday 13 November 2009
Never grin at a sharks fin
Insomnias hit me again, and my eyes feel a few sizes too big for their sockets. Reckon I'll go on a long late walk so i get my z's for work tommorow.
I have some strange ways of trying to get to sleep. here are a few
We did the 12 hour challenge once again, although for me personally it was more like 10 and a half. And some might say that it went rather well (not me though, considering how many drinks i got for other folk)
My dissertation supervisor gave me the vote of confidence yesterday. Basically said that a decent mark was in the bag if i contined as i was. And I'm not exactly straining myself. As always, the bob is all about la Sprezzatura.
Motivation has been hard to come by lately, despite a fairly eager start. i suspect its more to do with health, diet and exercises than any deep rooted melancholy.
I have some strange ways of trying to get to sleep. here are a few
- I imagine i am being buried under the earth, each spadeful weighing me deeper into sleep
- I picture me sinking into warm black oil
- I pretend Derren Brown is hypnotising me with a big gold watch
- I count the different parts of a sheep jumping over a fence and re-assembling on the other side
- i try to use my brain as a radio to tune into FM Dreams
We did the 12 hour challenge once again, although for me personally it was more like 10 and a half. And some might say that it went rather well (not me though, considering how many drinks i got for other folk)
My dissertation supervisor gave me the vote of confidence yesterday. Basically said that a decent mark was in the bag if i contined as i was. And I'm not exactly straining myself. As always, the bob is all about la Sprezzatura.
Motivation has been hard to come by lately, despite a fairly eager start. i suspect its more to do with health, diet and exercises than any deep rooted melancholy.
Monday 9 November 2009
A bit about me
I remember being small and thinking I had super powers-namely the ability to tolerate supreme heat. Story goes that i used to take baths all the time (back when i could actually fit in the tub) And these baths would be scorchio hot hot, as hot as i could stand. And i realised that if i waited long enough, i'd eventually get used to it and be able to have even hotter water in the tub. i would do this for hours, thinking i was getting towards boiling point and evolving or training my body to take it. The idea that i had just waited so long that the water had cooled down again never once entered my head.
And that is why......all my sperm are dead
And that is why......all my sperm are dead
Wednesday 4 November 2009
Abraham Drinkin
The presidents only company on haloween was the first lady's
which shows what happens when you don't plan
still, learned to tie a bow tie
which shows what happens when you don't plan
still, learned to tie a bow tie
A sheep in Wolfs clothing
Let me tell you a story.
Once there was a lamb, not born white or black but a deep grey. His wool was short and wirey, and so rough that not even his own mother would nuzzle him, though she painfully endured his scratching and biting at her teat.
While other lambs played and frolicked in the vale, this lamb would venture far and wide, taking pleasure in his solitude.
One day he found a cave, with a flickering sun within. Drawn to it, the lamb ventured closer, savouring the warmth as he came nearer and nearer.
Until he saw the wolf.
It was lying down in front of the flickering sun, and slowly raised its head, wild white eyes staring.
“Hello little lamb,” it rumbled. “Come closer. Lie with me in front of the fire”
“Fire?” the lamb asked. It had only heard tell of such a thing once before, when the old black ram of the herd would recount the tale of the broken sky and the tree. The ram had spoken with fear, but the lamb looked on with joy. He slowly moved closer.
“Yes, that’s it. So much braver than the rest of your kind”
Then he saw that the wolf was tied down, a thick vine running round its neck to a heavy rock. Had he come any closer, the vine could have reached him. He stopped, and returned the wolfs hungry gaze impassively.
The wolf gave a low, hoarse laugh. “And smarter too. It matters not. The skin wearer will have scraps for me. He wants me starved, not dead” The wolf lowered its head, looking sad and confused. “It has been so long since I have killed anyway. I keep forgetting the old things. Too many of the new in my head”
“Skin wearer? New things?” the lamb asked curiously. He was still young after all, and loved new knowledge.
“Sit! Come! Heel!” The wolf spat each word out like a curse. “It makes me do things other than I am, whilst it wears my brothers fur as its own. Such a beast there never should be. Oh how I hate it!”
The lamb could not help but feel sorry for the wolf. “Then why not fight it? I see your claws are long and your teeth are sharp. Surely you are more terrible than it?”
The wolfs eyes went dead and it cringed. “I must not bite the hand that feeds” it said softly. Those awful nothing eyes met the lambs “You see, this is what it does. It makes you think things you never would, forces its ways into you. You slowly change. Already I am forgetting how to hate. Already I begin to love it. What am I in the face of such things? A terrible wolf? HA!”
There was a stirring further back in the cave. The wolf cowered. “I have woken him. Quickly little lamb, flee from here, and unless you want to be remade, flee from all such beasts. Surely death is a better fate”
The lamb took heed and ran from the cave, but not before hearing the last growl of the wolf turn into a pitiful yelp that never finished.
Eight suns later the lamb had found its way back to the cave. And there, lying on the ground was the skin of the wolf.
Slowly he crept up to the cave. Slowly he crept up to the wolf. Slowly he crept into its skin.
It was so lovely and warm. The lamb had never felt so safe. He moved its head to the front, and looked out through where the wolfs eyes had been. This felt right.
The lamb wore the skin out of the cave. Stepping clumsily due to its great size, he made its way back to the herd.
As he drew nearer he smelled death in the air. Upon reaching the vale he looked down at what had befallen.
Most of the herd had fled. Those that remained were dead or dying, with a pack of wolves tearing at them. The lamb watched unseen until they had ate their fill and left. Then he came down, and tried to find the trail of those that had fled.
He searched five suns for his herd, all the while wearing the wolfs skin. Nothing attacked him.
And finally, he found them in the one place he didn’t want to search-near the cave. They were all penned up, in a strange dead tree hedge that went all around them.
The grey lamb approached, and saw his mother.
“I found you!” he cried joyfully.
“Baaa” said the mother.
“I can free you! I can free you all!”
“Baaaaaaa” cried another.
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaa”
“But…”
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaaaaaaaa”
A terrible truth hit the lamb. The sheep’s coats were all cut short. He didn’t need to think who had done this. His heard. His family. They had all forgotten themselves.
The lamb turned and walked away. Not knowing where else to go he made his way back to the vale. The bodies were still there, as were the wolves. The lamb came down and approached them, waiting to be eaten.
Instead, the wolves greeted him.
“Welcome brother”
“Come eat with us”
“The meal is cold, but hasn’t yet spoiled.
The lamb looked down at the bloody remains of the old black ram who had told him about fire. Slowly he lowered the wolfs jaw down and open, and forced himself to eat.
Here’s a truth for you to keep
Better to run with wolves than live as sheep
Once there was a lamb, not born white or black but a deep grey. His wool was short and wirey, and so rough that not even his own mother would nuzzle him, though she painfully endured his scratching and biting at her teat.
While other lambs played and frolicked in the vale, this lamb would venture far and wide, taking pleasure in his solitude.
One day he found a cave, with a flickering sun within. Drawn to it, the lamb ventured closer, savouring the warmth as he came nearer and nearer.
Until he saw the wolf.
It was lying down in front of the flickering sun, and slowly raised its head, wild white eyes staring.
“Hello little lamb,” it rumbled. “Come closer. Lie with me in front of the fire”
“Fire?” the lamb asked. It had only heard tell of such a thing once before, when the old black ram of the herd would recount the tale of the broken sky and the tree. The ram had spoken with fear, but the lamb looked on with joy. He slowly moved closer.
“Yes, that’s it. So much braver than the rest of your kind”
Then he saw that the wolf was tied down, a thick vine running round its neck to a heavy rock. Had he come any closer, the vine could have reached him. He stopped, and returned the wolfs hungry gaze impassively.
The wolf gave a low, hoarse laugh. “And smarter too. It matters not. The skin wearer will have scraps for me. He wants me starved, not dead” The wolf lowered its head, looking sad and confused. “It has been so long since I have killed anyway. I keep forgetting the old things. Too many of the new in my head”
“Skin wearer? New things?” the lamb asked curiously. He was still young after all, and loved new knowledge.
“Sit! Come! Heel!” The wolf spat each word out like a curse. “It makes me do things other than I am, whilst it wears my brothers fur as its own. Such a beast there never should be. Oh how I hate it!”
The lamb could not help but feel sorry for the wolf. “Then why not fight it? I see your claws are long and your teeth are sharp. Surely you are more terrible than it?”
The wolfs eyes went dead and it cringed. “I must not bite the hand that feeds” it said softly. Those awful nothing eyes met the lambs “You see, this is what it does. It makes you think things you never would, forces its ways into you. You slowly change. Already I am forgetting how to hate. Already I begin to love it. What am I in the face of such things? A terrible wolf? HA!”
There was a stirring further back in the cave. The wolf cowered. “I have woken him. Quickly little lamb, flee from here, and unless you want to be remade, flee from all such beasts. Surely death is a better fate”
The lamb took heed and ran from the cave, but not before hearing the last growl of the wolf turn into a pitiful yelp that never finished.
Eight suns later the lamb had found its way back to the cave. And there, lying on the ground was the skin of the wolf.
Slowly he crept up to the cave. Slowly he crept up to the wolf. Slowly he crept into its skin.
It was so lovely and warm. The lamb had never felt so safe. He moved its head to the front, and looked out through where the wolfs eyes had been. This felt right.
The lamb wore the skin out of the cave. Stepping clumsily due to its great size, he made its way back to the herd.
As he drew nearer he smelled death in the air. Upon reaching the vale he looked down at what had befallen.
Most of the herd had fled. Those that remained were dead or dying, with a pack of wolves tearing at them. The lamb watched unseen until they had ate their fill and left. Then he came down, and tried to find the trail of those that had fled.
He searched five suns for his herd, all the while wearing the wolfs skin. Nothing attacked him.
And finally, he found them in the one place he didn’t want to search-near the cave. They were all penned up, in a strange dead tree hedge that went all around them.
The grey lamb approached, and saw his mother.
“I found you!” he cried joyfully.
“Baaa” said the mother.
“I can free you! I can free you all!”
“Baaaaaaa” cried another.
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaa”
“But…”
“Baaaaaaa”
“Baaaaaaaaa”
A terrible truth hit the lamb. The sheep’s coats were all cut short. He didn’t need to think who had done this. His heard. His family. They had all forgotten themselves.
The lamb turned and walked away. Not knowing where else to go he made his way back to the vale. The bodies were still there, as were the wolves. The lamb came down and approached them, waiting to be eaten.
Instead, the wolves greeted him.
“Welcome brother”
“Come eat with us”
“The meal is cold, but hasn’t yet spoiled.
The lamb looked down at the bloody remains of the old black ram who had told him about fire. Slowly he lowered the wolfs jaw down and open, and forced himself to eat.
Here’s a truth for you to keep
Better to run with wolves than live as sheep
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