Sux0r is Not a Word

Stuff and Shit

2008-05-09T00:46:00.002+01:00

So... stuff and shit.

Well, a little over 2 months ago I lost someone who is precious to me. I completely understand her reason. What gets me is that I didn't want that to be the reason, nor did I ever think it would be. I'm pretty gutted.

I've got my metal head back on my shoulders. So much so that I'm this close to liking KoRn and this close to thinking about considering that one day it might be plausible that I could also almost like Metallica. Iron Maiden remains a beached and very drunk whale beyond my sphere of tolerance.

Speaking of metal, Machine Head's The Blackening is a joygasm and Cavalera Conspiracy is pretty bad ass. I think we're going to see that there Cavalera gig. That'll be sweet.

The band plays on, still nameless. We've had Imperium, Bio-Mechanical, 25:17, Ballistica, Oilseed... fuck knows what else. Septic Fudge was my attempt at a fairly profound name that came out completely wrong. I have no idea what I was trying to say at the time.

I've been promoted. It's a fucking joke. Home delivery drivers still get more than me despite the fact that I have a whole heap of responsibilities. Actually, I get no pay rise at all. I get incentives. 50p extra an hour when the boss is away (which he never is) and £50 bonus for working Sundays, which are boring and pointless because we never make profit. Actually, at the duty managers course we found out that essentially, our job is all about taking the blame for the manager's fuck ups. I'd go into detail, but I can't be arsed.

I was nearly a hair dresser's apprentice. I had the job, but the same afternoon their old trainee came back after 4 months of no appearance and for whatever reason, they decided they'd give them their job back. That pissed me off too.

So that's what's been going on. Right now all I want to do is gig. I'm all excited about it right now, but I know 5 minutes before we're due to go on my balls will retract back into me so fast that they'll be hanging out of my mouth. There may also be some short fiction appearing here if I can be arsed to type it up. I think it dealt with how my father just disappeared with no goodbye one day and how maybe it wasn't all what it seemed. There's also the whole call of the sea thing. He was a fisherman and I've always had some tiny little desire to get out on the sea. I understand things like that are maybe genetic. It's kind of Lovecraftian, but not as good.

DUUUHDUHDUHDUHDUHDUUUUHDUHDUHDUUUUUH!!

2008-03-02T18:10:00.002Z

Take a friends birthday, four people that are kinda miffed with the good local bands, or rather the lack of, get a few drinks in them, stick them in a room the next day with their kit and what do you get?

My new band. Busy, busy. We still have no name. Right now it's a toss up between Mor'deca'i and Beef Curtains... yeah...

Also, I found my most favouritest pick that I thought was lost forever. Glee!

Back to it, I guess.

There's This Guy...

2008-02-07T23:39:00.001Z

... he's called Jack. Jack's great. He tells me things. Most of the time I listen to him and he's always right.

Now, Jack saw this coming, just the same as last time, but this was one of those times where I wouldn't listen. I carried on believing everything was just fine. But Jack was right, it wasn't just fine. Just the same as last time. Jack was right then, too.

Thing is, Jack's not real. Jack's just a voice in my head. He's that voice that I should always pay attention to. He knows what he's talking about.

So why is it I'm so surprised what just happened, happened? I knew it was going to happen. Jack told me it was.

It's the little things I'll miss the most. One little thing in particular. I'll miss it all, just the same as last time. I was happy there for a while, proper happy. If I find anything even close to this again, I'll be fucking lucky.

Disney DVD

2008-02-05T18:04:00.000Z

So... many... fucking... trailers...

Movie please.

Doctors

2008-01-28T21:14:00.000Z

Doctors are a special kind of folk. They're intelligent, they diagnose our failing bodies, if you're on the NHS they say they'll get you a specialist as soon as one becomes available (in UK English, this means you only have months to live), they stick things in your pooper and claim it's all in the name of your health.

Special people. People above our station, but so full of magnanimity are they that they are willing to descend from the heavens to treat our ails.

How far above our station are they? They're so fucking awesome they spell sleep with an 'a' and don't even think twice about it. That's how fucking awesome they are. I've got several 'sleaps' and 'sleaped' all over my medical record. I'm favoured. I'm going to the great waiting room in the sky. Fuck you guys! Tonight, I'm not just going to sleep, I'm going to sleep with an 'a' in it! When I go to a chemist and ask for sleeping pills, they're all like 'sleeping pills or sleaping pills?' and I'm like 'sleaping pills, fuck yeah' and they're like 'come this way sir' and there's this big ol' gold plated...

WTF am I gong on about? My doctor can't spell sleep. How about that?

It Made Me Giggle

2008-01-24T16:24:00.000Z

OVERHAUL: Fuck them and their pedantic lack of humour.

Also, Tom Cruise esta muerto!

My Heart is So Fit and HHHNNNNNNNNGH!!!

2008-01-19T16:46:00.000Z

Today I bought The Munsters Season 1 box set. I'm not usually one for box sets, most of the TV stuff gets repeated at some point anyway. Some things don't or won't for a very, very long time.

Like Ultraviolet, Channel 4's vampire thriller series that only lasted an unfortunate 6 episodes and 1 season. A shame, 'twas a good series. Something about vampires trying to clone blood and farm humans and junk. Somehow, a friend of mine in uni came to the conclusion that it was somehow a pro-AIDS series. Mind you, this is the same guy who thinks he can single handedly bring about the downfall of the Hollywood machine with a series of purposefully unsuccessful no-lo budget independent movies.

On Hollywood movies, I think overlooking Samuel L Jackson for a cameo in any of the Pirates films was a missed opportunity to hear the coolest man alive yell 'yarr motherfucker'.

That Rib

2008-01-11T01:38:00.000Z

Like in the Lol Cat Bible, my rib has a flavr. However, it's not a good one.

'WHAT IN BARHAH'S GLORIOUSLY NECROTIC EXISTENCE ARE YOU GIBLABBERING ABOUT' I hear the voices say (and I can only assume they are yours).

One of my ribs hurts. I breath in, it hurts. I lift something, it hurts. I watch two hours of comedy quiz shows and laugh a lot, it really hurts. I squeeze my pectorals together in a bid to prove that I so have boo- no, wait...

I see Doctorman today, he says that not only am I perfectly healthy (PAHAHAHAHA!), it's probably nothing to worry about. It's just the cartilage doing that whole calcification thing that cartilage is apparently wont to do as it ages. This particular bit just doesn't want to go quietly it would seem.

In other news, I dropped a massive box full of foodstuffs right on my face today, spilt 16 pints of milk on the shop floor because the plastic bottle making machine-god, I would assume, is malfunctioning and producing bottles that are covered in patches no thicker than a plastic bag (apparently it was still OK to send them to our store), got smacked in the temple by more falling milk, which actually hurts quite a lot and got my work clothes covered in one of the most foul, loathsome, despicable and most assuredly fucked up substances known to man - bad peach juice! Reel in fear at it's soy sauce like appearance and it's stench that's akin to vinegar with an underlying, but all too present kick of fucked up. That shit stinks.

Alas, m'Squishy has returned and I must away. WUSH FFS ALREADY!

MOAR! Apparently, so against me and m'Squishy is the world that I currently don't have access to the North American CoV servers. EARTH! MAY YOUR SOLAR CONSUMPTION BE BOTH SWIFT AND HIDEOUS!

Oh, Come On!

2008-01-02T21:11:00.000Z

I was just going to write a blog about how it's two days into the new year and I haven't yet once heard those horrible, vile, offending words 'new year's resolutions' when suddenly, up pops a Boots pharmacy advert about how they can help with new year's resolutions.

YIFF IN HELL, BOOTS, YOU FURRY LOVING BASTARDS!

I'm a Shark, I'm a Shark, Suck My Cock, I'm a Shark!

2007-12-13T13:12:00.000Z

Also, my back hurts. So I saw the doctor man today, it's come to therapy of a physio persuasion. If my memories of previous physio serve me correctly then this will hurt a lot.

Furthermore, I'm going to annihilate a large portion of my hometown's population. This will cripple certain work forces creating multitude positions that I will be able to fill. I need a new job, see? But there are none for me. I'm not a demi-god, unfortunately, and it would seem the only jobs available right now are for demi-gods.

So next week I don't get a day off. Woo. I get a pointless 7-12 shift every day. What kind of a shift is that? At least it's not the 2-6 afternoon shift. Then the first week of January I get a massive 11 hours. What fucking use? Thank fuck I decided to move back home. I've only got a couple of bills to pay, but I still have an overdraft to clear and 11 hours is no use to man or beast. And why can't I have full time? Because it's not done any more. 'In line with their competitors' store staff are only going to be given part time hours. Funny as, Iceland is the smallest group in the sector, it might be growing the fastest, but it has a long way to go to be any kind of threat to other companies. Iceland is the competitor. So, let's see, no sick pay for the first three days of sickness, which means I'm forced to hobble my ass all over work, no overtime pay, not that anyone gets overtime anyway, no time and a half on bank holidays or other public holidays, we work twice as hard at Camborne and Penzance than anyone at Falmouth, but do we get paid any more? No. We do, however, based on performance, stand a chance to earn £10 000 for the social fund. Great. I hate these people, they drive me nuts, I don't want to go and get drunk with them too. I want to be rewarded for the work I do, I want some fucking responsibility, a promotion would be nice, some hours would be nice, a real shift also, for the area manager to realize that he's seen me in three different stores now, that would be nice too. Oh, how he likes to visit Penzance and bathe in the reflected glory that is our store being the highest grossing in the area. And he takes credit for that. Stupid bald twat. I wonder when the last time he did a full day's work was.

FUCK YOU , ICELAND! FUCK YOU FORCEFULLY IN YOUR HAIRLESS PINK ASS!

Uuugh, rant over. At least I has m'squishy and I get to be her wench. Senior wench at that ^_^

Yip!

2007-11-15T22:35:00.000Z

Various things I would like to say to some people at work;

1) I don't decide these prices, if I did, I wouldn't be working here would I? Cunt.

2) What is this, day of the fucking dead? Shift it, cunt!

3) Control your bloody kid, this is a working shop and the bloody thing will get hurt. Cunt.

4) What the hell is wrong with you people? How many people does it take to fill a fucking basket? Why bring your whole family? Cunt.

5) Jesus, you fucking stink, cunt.

6) Don't touch me, cunt.

7) Cunt.

If in fact it is not yet clear, I do loathe my job.

It's All Your Fault

2007-10-11T00:36:00.000+01:00

You lie in the floor, blood running from the knife wounds in your chest, trickling slowly over your skin and soaking through your shirt. It's warm, you can feel it, but you're getting cold. You're dying. You're dying and your killer is watching you from the other side of the room. He's sat down, legs and arms crossed, just watching, waiting. Perhaps he's sneering. You can't tell because you are too weak to lift your head and look him in the eyes. But you know all you would see anyway is the cold, unremorsful stare of satisfaction. Your vision begins to blur, begins to fade to black. And as your world becomes nothing more than a pinprick of light you realise that perhaps you shouldn't have eaten his last donut.

Someone Please Quantize My Thoughts

2007-10-07T22:49:00.000+01:00

I've noticed on my train ride back and forth from Camborne every day that there is a field. Well, there are lots of fields, but this one stands out more than the others. Why? A most pertinent question. In this field there dwells a single cow and a single donkey.

HOW FUCKED UP?

I've named them Charles and Darwin, but I'm not sure which is which yet. Perhaps I shall force them to fight over their preferred names.

In other news, Camborne is like the village of the damned, only I get to leave it every evening. Punk bands should also not be allowed to reside in the same abode because it wrecks relationships apparently.

Pour l'Ammer

2007-10-03T03:25:00.000+01:00

You gotta click that shit to watch it. Retard. I mean... yo!

I Got My Bondage Pants Out for This?

2007-09-28T23:18:00.000+01:00

Shit gig was shit.

If Paper Planes Were Made of Wood They'd Float Better

2007-09-22T07:53:00.000+01:00

It's a news link, oh shit!

So, this is in my little hometown. Shit like this never happens. And it was on my day off! I so could have seen that! DAMN! I want my second corpse NOW! I don't get it, it's probably one of the most interesting thing that'll happen in the store staff's lives and they're being 'traumatised'.

Yes, I know that's probably the 'wrong' thing to say. But I'm also the person who points out to people that he probably wasn't a 'fucking druggy'. Nobody cuts their own throat just because they're buzzing.

MmmmmMMMMMmmmmmMMMMMMmmmmmmMMMMMMAAAMARIIIIIEEEEEEEeeeeeesssss!

2007-09-20T19:02:00.000+01:00

"Listen: all I want out of life is for my bank account to have 58, 008 dollars in it, so that when I read my statement upside down, it says 'BOOBS'".

This is my latest life mission, courtesy of Qwantz.

And They Shall Not Be Writ Forever Amongst the Stars for They Are a Load of Shit

2007-09-17T21:57:00.001+01:00

Smoking can cause a slow and painful death. Whilst this may be my favourite UK smoking warning (that is until the new picture ones come out next year), I never knew anyone who died of a cigarette. Maybe if a lit one was jammed down your throat and made it burn and swell and bleed and all that junk and you slowly suffocated, yes. I could believe that. Cancer. Now there's something that causes a slow and painful death.

Another smoking one. Smoking causes ageing of the skin. Well, actually it might. But so does ageing.

Now I've thought about it, I can't see that printing pictures of what smoking does to your organs on your baccy pouches is really going to discourage someone from smoking unless they are a total fuckwit. My lungs probably aren't pretty, but I'm not going to be self conscious about them if I knew what they looked like because hey! I can't see them and neither can anyone else. Still, I'm all for these new warnings. I do like me some guts. I think they're long overdue in fact.

Here's two warnings from Germany.

1) Smoking can be lethal
2) Smoking is lethal

Which one is it guys?

Right now I'm formatting my laptop. I tried five times yesterday, but the bastard kept overheating about halfway through and that makes it turn off. So now the computer is perched on top of two boxes with a fan underneath keeping it cool and so far it's worked. Sweet. In fact, 'Hard disk fully recovered process is completely'. Wait, what?

There's a Title Here Underneath All This Spit

2007-09-12T20:51:00.000+01:00

While I am aware that stereotypes are a sweeping generalization and can by no means account for the behaviour of every person within whichever particular social group they pertain to... oh, fuck it. On with the hate.

OK. The first group of people I would like to lambast are the bastard children that frequent the store I work in. Ireallyfuckinghatethem! Given two weeks and immunity from prosecution I could guarantee that no child would ever again set foot in the store for the duration of my employment unless;

a) they are prepared to spend the rest of their foul existences in a wheelchair
b) they want to lose their putrescent teeth
c) they want to speak only in vowels
d) all of the above

I think d is my favourite. Where the locals are concerned, however, the only difference you'd notice would be the wheelchair.

The second group are the bastards on my street. When I was wee, this street and the whole estate was a good place to live. For the most part we left the other residents alone, we had fun and all the jazz you think of when you remember things from when you were an ankle biter. Hazy summer evenings, bubble gum and trading cards... those sort of things. Now the place has turned into a chav infested shitpipe. And being away for two years it seems like it happened overnight. The place was slowly going to the dogs right before I left, but now... ARGH! Where did they come from? I'm sharing my street with the Enemy!

For those of you not in the know, a chav is, for lack of a better explanation, a pack animal. They're the people who sit on walls with cans of cider (coz it's well 'ard, innit) bragging about how cool they are because they stole daddy's cigarettes. A typical chav conversation might sound a little something like;

Chav A: Like, i's well fuckin' cold, aw, didja know, Raychawl totally fucked 'er mum's boyfren' innit blud.

Chav B: IS IT?

I hates them so. Stay in school kids. Not because you're going to learn anything. It's just the only place you won't see a chav.

I feel much better now ^_^

God is a Tall Can

2007-09-12T00:15:00.000+01:00

Do fucking want!

...

2007-09-09T23:36:00.000+01:00

Only one person is going to understand this entry properly, no substantial amount of words are going to express how happy I am right now, so I'm going to try some ironic understatement. Ready? Go.

Woot.

Did it work?

Bits

2007-09-08T00:44:00.000+01:00

1. People who shouldn't be on my mind suddenly are. H for good reason. J... not so sure why. I guess if I'm really honest with myself it's because I miss her. But I have only myself to blame for all of that. I didn't handle it well at all and I lost my rag. I shouldn't have... but there's nothing I can do now. I could say more but I shan't. That's for me to mull over.

H... well then, she would be the girl I dropped my place at Oxford for. We met on my gap year, found out we liked each other but decided not to do anything seen as how I'd only be around for a few months. Then I decided 'hey, why not, I'll move closer to her instead of going to Oxford, let's see what courses we have down here'. So I did that, she was cool with it. Only she wasn't in the end, apparently me being a bit older would have been a point of contention between her and her parents. So she decides it's not going to happen after all. Now I've just been told that she's moved in with her boyfriend. Who is older. This comes after she had it out with her parents about having an older boyfriend. Now I'm not saying I would have had her move in with me back when... but for fuck sake, what a piss take.

2. I've noticed that I seem to have strange infatuations with random men like Nick 13 or Vincent Price. Not in an 'oh my God, I love you guys so much, sign my nipples' kind of way... I think at the end of the day I'm trying to find one of them there male role models. I still think it's weird though.

3. I fucking loathe my job. I loathe the customers. I especially loathe the small children who get under your feet. Time after time I find myself imagining what it would be like to root them in the spine so that they will never get under anyone's feet again.

4. Lastnight I saw a kid run away from an Alsation screaming bloody bloody murder. I couldn't help but lol. I am mean.

5. That research paper we had to write for college that should've taken approximately two weeks just to research and that I wrote in two nights? I got a top grade for it. What a blag.

6. Drummers are hard to find and are incredibly unreliable. Mojo man can't keep in time either. I am annoyed slightly.

I Am Sid. I Shit in Your Bath at Night.

2007-09-06T01:17:00.000+01:00

My name is now officially Sid. Since I've been back in the hometown everyone has been calling me Sid. Even people I don't know. I'm told it's a good thing and that I'm just like this enigmatic Sid fella. But I have no idea who this Sid is because no one will tell me.

How to Freak Out New Starters at Work

2007-08-30T22:12:00.000+01:00

1. Bomb four cans of [insert brand name of preferred tall can energy drink here].

2. Allow the full state of hysteria that such a large volume of caffeine induces to reach its peak.

3. Wait until all the new starters are gathered in one room, for example the staff room where they should be watching all the induction videos.

4. Walk past and do a double take. Enter the room and say 'oooh, fresh morsels for Halitosis the Meat God. MEAT FOR THE MEAT GOD!' By this point you should also have raised or at least be in the process of raising your arms above your head, as if beseeching the attention and blessings of said God.

5. Leave. Quietly.

Once this process is complete you will be safe in the knowledge that if you do get stuck with one of them and are forced to show them the ropes, they will leave you alone.

It's All Gonna Hurt in the Morning

2007-08-27T02:15:00.000+01:00

As it turns out, this whole moving back to Penzance thing hasn't so far been all that bad.

Friday night I found myself once again at what is swiftly becoming a second home, the Clipper, to check out what is swiftly becoming my second love, live music.

Blame the Hatred. Never heard of them before, even in the massive metal scene we have down here. Friday night they were supporting a band nobody had heard from in quite some time, Obsydian Tears. So, there we all are sitting out back smoking and drinking when Blame the Hatred turn up. Fuck me, Ian cuts quite the imposing figure. The guy is huge. Also a thoroughly lovely chap. More on him later.

Obsydian Tears are the band I went to see, seen as how we all thought they had faded into urban myth. Moshing away, ladeeda, when shock, horror! After about an hour of staring at this guy, I realize one of the guitarists is only an old college mate, the very same who got me started when I got my bass. There was a little catch up there, post gig... that was good.

Tonight was even better. The gig tonight was Seven Deadly Sins, that is seven bands gathered for our viewing pleasure. First band sucked, second band... I don't remember them. Here the Bullet catches up and I find myself banging away to this band called Raider... tragically under supported though. Tear. After that, it was outside for some smokes when Blame the Hatred come waltzing in the back gate, Ian chanting 'hail Satan' and the rest of the band repeating it in squeaky little voices. Apparently, they had returned from doing a circle pit in the cemetary across the way. We sit down, we chat, this other band called Unforgiven comes along, we all start growling away in our influenced manner. At this point, I'm asked by Unforgiven if I would do guest vocals. Result! Unfortunately, until tonight I'd never heard of them. Tear.

Couple drinks later and it's back to the floor, Blame the Hatred are up. Fuck me, I've never moshed so hard. Let's see, I hit my head, I smashed my jaw on some unfortunate's head and damn near bit the sides of my tongue off (I also can't eat at the moment, it hurts too much to chew), I've pulled the muscles up the back of my neck, the ringing in my ears will no doubt attract a veritable horde of Quasimodos in my sleep, I got cracked in the ribs, various scratches on my right forearm along with a beautiful bump, my knees are caning... overall, an intensely enjoyable however long it was. I think it may be down to little person syndrome, Ian being the behemoth he is and me standing right in front of him. How could I not go totally nuts?

Obsydian Tears rocked, Unforgiven weren't bad either despite how tanked the singer was.

So, yeah... since I've been back I've made a whole bunch of friends and acquaintances and met a few old ones too. Could've been worse.

Right now it's time for sleep. I have work come the morn and I must rest my shattered frame.

Corfuckin'bleddy'ell.

2007-08-21T23:00:00.000+01:00

So... fucking... tired. But it's all good after the week I had. It's been a crap and good week, so I'm not sure how to feel about it really. I'm just calling it good because there was lots of live music involved.

So, Thursday gone I left Falmouth. Well, let's start from the beginning. Monday and Tuesday I was going to take off work to get all my shit together because I knew I would be the disorganized felch lord that I did indeed turn out to be. Work sucks, but I like Steve so I worked as a favour to him. But it's the nights of this week that concern us here, oh yesh. Monday we saw some shitehouse band at Prince's, I care not to remember their name. This band had an 8 o'clock start. At 10 they decided they were finished setting up a lot of pedals and junk that turned out were completely unnecessary, half of them weren't touched once. We were getting this 'we have lots of junk, do we look cool?' vibe from them at this point. Their first song false started three or four times, they kept stopping to ask us all if they sounded OK. This trend continued for a large portion of their set.

Tuesday I went down to see the sexually confused lesbian DJ'ing at Shades. I like that place, I wish I'd been there earlier, it's kinda like the club in The Matrix. That was a funny night, Hannah got set on by a pair of ravenous girls and that little group got hit on in turn by a bunch of students from the northlands yonder who took an hour to get it through their skulls that these girls were lesbians. The cockney decided to confirm this point one more time, coming up to the booth and bellowing 'so you's awl fackin' lezzers, yeah? Good awn ya!' Further amusement was provided when this guy slammed flat on his face on the dance floor and then tried to save his dignity by doing some half assed and very punch-drunk 'break dancing'.

Wednesday was my last night in Falmouth, the whole 'No.2 Krew' as we somehow came to refer to ourselves as decided on drag. Corsets... never shall I wear one again. Well, there is one case where I could probably be persuaded. Makeup also makes me look oh so very feminine, it's scary. This guy Tom who I've been calling Tom for something like a month or two... his name is actually James. Silly me. He does look like a Tom though. All of us crammed onto our steps outside Shades having a grin... we will never be there again. And it sucks. Also cleared up the loose end that is me and hippy girl and that she somehow found out how I felt about her and that there was nothing bad between us. And there wasn't, so that's all good.

So Thursday I move, give them all a call, we're all scattering to the four winds. The hippy got into her uni, well done there, the SCL is thinking about grabbing a clearing place, the townie comes into his inheritance soon and is going to get the hell out, I'm back here and James is just going to stay in Falmouth. So no more No.2 Krew. I am sad. The first proper friends I make in Famouth and they're in my life properly for all of a couple months. But I'm going to make a concerted effort to stay in touch with them. Yesh. Thursday night was spent at the Clipper, a delightful little pub full of my kind of people. I went with a mate I haven't seen in a good long while, he's making a little bit of monies doing that photography thing these days. Not bad either. I met not one but two fellow psychobillies, holy fuck, and possibly the most forward girl ever. So not a bad night for someone who is totally bummed about having to move.

Friday, back to the Clipper for the gig there after I started work at my new store which is full entirely of robots and complete fucking wanks. I hate it there. But the Clipper was good, although by this time the week is catching up on me and I end up falling asleep on the world's comfiest couch (seriously, oh my God), with said mate's girlfriend who is sleeping on me. That could've gone bad if he wasn't off with the other photographer mate spooging over how great their cameras are and pissing off the band with their flash guns. And me, as it goes, my eyes were on bloody fire.

Saturday I went to a party for the mysterious Jenna, of whom I have heard much but until then had never met. She's cool, she's a fellow bass player and she has a lush house. I went and sat in the other photographer mate's car with him that night, he really likes her and wanted my advice (wait what?) and I must have ended up passively stoned because after that everything was suddenly very funny. We were also bad and coerced photographer No.1 into give up on his little 'no drink till Christmas' thing and he of course had to play catch up. He was unwell to say the least.

Sunday wasn't particularly exciting, it was just a chill out down the Dock with photographer No.2 and the jam session they have there on Sundays. Them folks were good.

So... this week has been good and bad. Lost a bunch of friends, made a few new ones, had a bunch of good nights and now I'm all the more tired for it (thank the Cola company for Relentless, omnomnomnom), a new start at a new store doing the same old shit job... I don't really know how to feel.

Somebody tell me.

Ke! It's a Curse Word, Apparently.

2007-08-11T00:19:00.000+01:00

I was going to blog something... but I forget.

For Thomas's aid, Relentless is a shiny new energy drink on this side of the pond. It's pretty much Red Bull, only twice as big. But yeah, drinking four cans of those plus whatever was left in my system from the day before, which was also 4 cans... I went pretty psycho.

Hmm... Greatshakes is a good place. They can have a woot from me. I wish I'd found the place earlier, hanging out there after work with the rest of the 'krew, yo'... it's like being a little kid again. Not that I've really grown up that much, ultimately I am still a little kid in an ageing body... I've needed a place like that for a long time. Who do we have there... well, there's the hippy, the sexually confused lesbian, the repressed Godboy who is so going to explode in the most extravagant and destructive manner possible if someone pushes him the right way, the ridiculously posh sounding film geek from the hire shop up the road, the little sister look-a-like, Chinese Tap and Little Chinese Tap (I don't know what that is about yet), Ti who is a complete and utter cunt and yet strangely loveable... I like it there. Oh, and there's this Tom fella I met lastnight right before we all went to the pub and had some conversation where the monster deepthroat motherfish and Cornwall's defence budget kind of came up in one conversation... I don't know, it confused the hell out of me. It sucks that I find it right before I have to move away. But the plus side of that is we're all going out sometime. We're not sure whether we want to do drag or zombies. Either way, the milkshake girls are doing me some makeup :) Thomas want pictures? Want pictures of Jay in drag? It's as close to naked as you're going to get unless JK finalises some photo project he wants me to do with him. But that won't be entirely naked. Sorry.

Oh God... I'm 20something next week... 23. Week? I mean month. This is a total talking to myself in a conversational manner kind of blog. Because I am, I'm sat here talking to myself, which is why there are a lot of ... them. Naked in the dark talking to myself, listening to Hellbilly Wreckhouse with a glass of whiskey I have misplaced and can't find because that would involve getting up and turning the light on. But that shit hurts. So I'll have that tomorrow.

Fuck yeah, Holifair Sunday. That means a fucking ton of live musics in the middle of a field including The Eyelids and their shiny new spangly singer. Rawks. I've got this fucking... gash in my arm, that's the only way I can describe it. I have no idea how I did it. God, I'm sooooooooooo tired.

OK, so Brother Bibb is back from whatever break it is he was talking about... I must go listen to this Hellbilly Wreckhouse. No more consciousness for you. NONE! Bye.

KEKEKEKEKE!

2007-08-03T22:16:00.000+01:00

FUCKING... LOTS OF FUCKING RELENTLESS AND NO FUCKING PLAY MAKES JAY A VERY FUCKING AGGRESSIVE BOY!

Someone Else's Morning After

2007-07-28T19:37:00.000+01:00

The putrid, lingering stench of alternative death,
It doth dance its dance 'twixt the portals,
It is, I fear, the loathsome liquids of him above,
Such a kind unknown to us mere mortals.

And lo! as I push the door inwards,
My senses, such an assault,
There is excess and decadence here,
And influence will be held at fault.

'Pon the wall this filth doth shimmer,
Far from its abyssal dwelling,
And along the floor it did slither,
From what source there was no telling.

But wait! Here it doth lie,
The genesis of this wretchedness,
Not him from above,
Rather another form of unpleasantness.

Prostrate on my bathroom floor there lies a figure,
Not quite living, nor truly dead,
And around his mouth begins the trail,
The trail of this bile, bacon and egg.

This, my little creeplings, is a five minute poem I've just knocked out for your amusement to commemorate the morning where, on my way to brush my teeth, I found an unconscious Romanian on my bathroom floor and a lot of his sick all over the wall.

Somehow, I managed to sleep through all of this.

So... the rampaging Russian went out lastnight and according to the Irish lass and the sage American, he came home with this friend of his and they were up until about 6:30 being loud and brash. This, I suppose, would also explain the rather angry neighbour on my doorstep this morning. Something about 'not being talked to like that'.

I'm glad I'm moving in two weeks.

HEEAAARRRAAAGH!!!

2007-07-27T23:36:00.000+01:00

So the walk home... that hurt a lot. My back went again. Ouch.

In other news, geek tattoos. Apparently, direct linking doesn't work... so here's the URL;

http://www.bodymod.org/forum/forum_posts~TID~6038.htm

Also, I have this incredibly annoying piece of fuck lodged firmly in my mind organ thanks to him there at the Subculture Collective. But the SC is forgiven. Because I likes it. I likes it a lot.

Biospuds of Cosmic Death (with Rattles)

2007-07-24T21:09:00.001+01:00

So I'm an uncle two times. My older sister just popped a wee lad out a few hours ago. Woot! I'd try and get some pics from her, but no one needs to see more fresh dumplings. They're so wrinkly and creepy looking.

A Half Read Advertisment

2007-07-20T21:20:00.000+01:00

Centipedes? In my vagina? It's more likely than you think.

I didn't dare read the rest and destroy the mystery of this ad.

Girl Blogthing

2007-07-19T21:24:00.000+01:00

Well, this is a long one.

Apparently, new girl already has a boyfriend. Which I'd be pissed about if I hadn't realized that NO! I'm not all that interested in her. So that all worked out OK.

Hm... a girl blog I guess.

H'okay, so... I met this girl months ago at college and I'm outside smoking, she asks to use my lighter, I let her use my lighter. As you do. But then she starts talking at me. Which is fine as well, I guess... I don't much like being talked at by randoms, but sometimes you talk to someone who's actually saying something as well, not just expelling air. But anyway, that was that. BUT NO! No, it wasn't just that.

About 3 weeks ago I get a request from some random on MySpaz, I figure what the hell, let's accept and see what's what. Then this person sends me a message; 'u on msngr?>' First thought; 'way to massacre the English language'. Second thought; 'meh, might as well give you my address'. Turns out it's the smoker girl. Apparently, she found me on the Truro college students MySpaz group thing there (the place where students with a MySpaz who have entered what school they go to are grouped and listed).

OK so far. A little chit-chat, a little joke, bla bla bla. Slightly annoyed by the continued decimation of the English language and this girl's lack of understanding concerning words with more than two syllables (like decimation, as it happens. Seriously, who the fuck doesn't know what that means?) and little phrases that really don't need an explanation. Example;

Smoker Girl: im feeln a bit sad
Me: How so?
SG: wat?
Me: How so?
SG: wat duz tat mean?
Me: Seriously?
SG: yea

If I was completely hairless and paraplegic, at that point I still could've found hair to pull out. Then she tells me why she's sad. It's because she broke up with her boyfriend. I asked why, as you do. It was because he told her to shut up. And nobody tells her to shut up and gets away with it. Good fucking God.

Anyway... couple days later she's all 'o i cnt stop finkin ov u, eva since i saw u in the smokin area'. One call to the NSA's cryptology department later, I realize what she's said. So I just say 'not interested'. She took it quite well actually. Right on the chin. Kathwack.

This is longer than I thought. Onwards!

So, I'm talking to Ian, also from college, and it just so happens that this smoker girl is the very same girl who's practically stalking Ian. His story is they went out, she's a fucking psycho, he broke up with her after the police became involved a few times.

Ladeeda, I'm sat at home checking some stuff on my internets when she signs on. 'Know Ian then, do you?' I ask. 'yea we used 2 go out 2geva but he jus used me n dumped me' she says. After she tells me that she can't get over him and she's still so madly in love with him blablabla she asks me to tell him from her that he's a wanker. Well, that was that.

Me: Look, don't try and drag me into your personal shit, if you and Ian have a problem then that's between you two, and I'm not going to call a friend a wanker, Ian's a good lad and by all accounts you're the wanker. And what's this you like me crap? You've met me once for about 10 minutes, sure, we've been talking for about a week but what really do you know about me, I've told you nothing of myself. If you must know, I don't find you attractive in the least, you have a ridiculously loose grasp on your native language that irks me no end, there's no way in bloody Hell I could spend much time around you without wanting to tie you down and pull your teeth out and it sounds to me like you're lacking in emotional maturity. You broke up with your boyfriend because he told you to shut up? What the hell is that?
SG: Ian IZ a wanker and i can speek english
Me: Fucking sounds like it and all
SG: n wat u mean emotional amturity?
Me: Fuck me, seriously? I'm sure you could figure that out for yourself if you tried really hard
SG: y u bein like dis?
Me: I find your existence disagreeable
SG: well fuk u take me off ur msngr n myspace and dnt talk 2 me again
Me: Gladly :)

OK, so maybe I was a little mean... not that I care... and I'm hardly perfect myself, far from it and I'm the first to admit that... but I wasn't prepared to put up with that shit any more. But I, being the brainfart of mankind that I am, forgot to block the fucker too. So either a couple nights ago or lastnight, I get a little message pop up in the little corner down there by the clock. It being of the instant message persuasion I have myself a little look. Yep. It was her.

SG: sry bwt tat b4
Me: What? At least try and use real English
SG: sorry about tat before
Me: I don't care. Do I need to block you or are you going to stop messaging me now? You did ask me to delete you (which I've done) and you did say you didn't want me to talk to you again, I can only assume that you didn't want to talk to me either.
SG: wat?
Me: Aaw, wrong answer

So that's that with any luck.

Now then... the girl I do care about. Those in the know will know who I mean. Well, we finished about 6 weeks ago now. Like I say, I'm far from perfect and what I know about girls and relationships and all that jazz wouldn't fill the back of a stamp. Typical of me, I didn't just put my foot in it, nor did I gracefully dive in, it was more of a spectacular belly flop. And not content with the grave that I dug I carried on digging, but silly ol' me wasn't digging up. Thing is, the small part of me that I need to pay more attention to saw this coming. Good things like her don't happen to a guy like me.

But that's no excuse. People say you don't know what you have until you lose it, but I knew what I had with her. As far as I'm concerned she's that dream girl every guy wants. It sounds a bit daft, dream girl... but she was, she was absolutely everything I want in a girl. Everything. Sure, there were a couple of bad points, but they weren't that bad really and you need those and I wouldn't have had it any other way. But I always knew what I was going to lose and fuck, I didn't want to lose her.

But lose her I did. And I fucked it up for myself. And here's the thing, I don't have a grudge or anything against her, I don't blame her for not wanting us to have our 3 weeks. I still love her. Sure, I went a little weird and that jazz for a couple weeks, but I've calmed down (I think) and yeah... my feelings haven't changed. If anything, I'm angry at myself. I've always fucked things up for myself and this was one thing I didn't want to destroy. I guess you can't change the habit of a lifetime.

If I could have her back, I would. And I'd never let go.

LolWHUTPLZ?!

2007-07-15T12:07:00.000+01:00

The speaker, it was at least six times the size of my head. Now I am paying for standing right next to it.

Something Wrong

2007-07-15T01:59:00.000+01:00

So apparently something has changed so drastically that I am now prepared to be dragged into the front of a room full of people and dance with her without freaking the fuck out.

Can someone find my gnome plox kthx :)

It Feels Funny to Look at the Floor

2007-07-08T14:23:00.000+01:00

Don't you just love it when you go out to a gig and wake up the next morning still drunk? And when you drink anything you have to gulp it super fast? Lastnight was awesome as were The Eyelids. They will be seen again, oh yesh. Oh so very yesh.

Yes, House, New Shoes

2007-07-05T10:57:00.000+01:00

Strange how an hour of someone sticking needles into you can be therapeutic. Most curious, even tattoo Bob says I belong on a ward for getting one this big right there. Hmm...

Incongruent enough for you, Thomas? I'm still not sure what you mean by that... but meh :p

For the challenged amongst you it says 'Unwanted in Heaven, Forgotten in Hell'. Thems be lyrics from Incorporeal by Tiger Army, a most awesome song b a most awesome band.

Now then.... to work on my next one...

Long Time

2007-07-02T23:09:00.000+01:00

For a lot of things. A lot of things. Including being this influenced. But I'm angry right now and Marvin is my best friend. Thnak fuck for psychos.

Next Plox?

2007-07-01T17:31:00.000+01:00

Yes? No? Wtf?

Is That All?

2007-06-29T22:29:00.000+01:00

This thing is only NC-17. WHAT THE FUCK PEOPLE?!

By the by, Jesus and Elvis have teamed up to bring to you a zombie massacre. Fear and rejoice. Fearjoice?

Oh Shits!

2007-06-23T19:13:00.000+01:00

The conspiracies want my brain but I know nothing!

Give Me Your Teeth! NAO!

2007-06-18T21:58:00.000+01:00

So, I've been listening to nothing but Reverend Horton Heat the last few days and he has this song 'Eat Steak'. As such, I've made it a life mission to find a vegetarian who is willing to donate me their canines. They aren't using them after all.

Got Ink?

2007-06-15T08:15:00.000+01:00

I done gone and went and got did my first un. Hyuk?

Now for the next one. But what? A skull and cross bones? An ankh/cross? A grim reaper?

On the True Nature of Zombies

2007-06-11T15:03:00.001+01:00

They want to eat your fucking brains already ffs!

In the UK, it's Fine to Run Children Down in the Street...

2007-06-07T23:45:00.001+01:00

... as long as you do it at 30.

Seriously.

It Has Eyes from Beyond!

2007-06-07T19:31:00.000+01:00

OK, so... last celebrity Big Brother, there was a whole kick off made about how Channel 4 did nothing when Shilpa was being racially bullied by a bunch of the other housemates. This series someone said something racist (I know not what yet) to someone else and they've been promptly booted. And yet people are still complaining, they say that it's no longer reality TV because it's a kind of censorship. Doubleyoo-tee-eff?

Roll the Ball. Rolling the Ball. O SHIT, FIRE!

2007-05-27T22:03:00.001+01:00

So... college... over... and now I have no idea what to do with myself.

I watched two Hammer films. The Ghoul was cool, Land's End never had so much appeal, The Satanic Rites of Dracula not so much. I mean... where the hell was Dracula?

I've caught up on my sleep. Oh, how I've caught up on my sleep.

JLC is going to rip their balls off and stick them up his own ass. I can't remember why.

I've picked up my bass again. But I've lost my stubbies :( Mayhaps I shall fashion one from a coin.

Woosh?

2007-05-25T03:35:00.000+01:00

So... today is Friday. At least I think it is. Doing a week of all nighters and napping when you get home really confuses the awareness challenged mind. All my gizmos assure me it is Friday... but I'm not convinced.

Anyway, today is the last day of college. FUCK YEASH! After today I will never again have to set foot in that college. Actually, I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about it. I'm sure I should be swinging on every ceiling fan I can find screaming 'shoop da woop', but... well, it's been a bit of a bitch this year.

We got a swanky new building specifically for us HE types, got our own floor specifically for us media types... thing is, the building still isn't finished, the 'studio' isn't one, it's full of edit 'chines, hideous Macs at that, some wanker someplace decided that it would be a good idea to just not build a sound studio, we get access to a bunch of 16:9 native HD cameras... but our asshole examiner requested, nay, dictated that we shoot 4:3 and the edit 'chines have no HD capable edit software. Not that I used them, but still...

And what's up with this examiner? She's a journo. That's bad. You don't get a journo to moderate a fucking media course. You get someone who knows shit about it. And her word limits on the essays... well, I think the best one so far was the advanced editing module. We had to research the history of editing, analyse the theory behind certain techniques, analyse the difference between factual and fictional editing and how the two are crossing over in films like This is Spinal Tap and Borat, demonstrate what techniques we used in our own films and why and evaluate our 2 minute trailers that were made for 5 minute films in *drumroll* 1000 words. Now a low word limit is nice, I hate writing essays. But for fuck sake... the history of editing alone is a fucking book right there. She's put so much stock in the written work too. An HND is a practical course, they're designed with the emphasis on doing things instead of writing about them. But no, little miss journo reveres the words... they hold so much power. SO MUCH POWA!

ARGH, the trailer. Well 2 minutes I can understand for a 10 minute film which they were originally going to be. But she thought she'd change that too and cut it back to 5 minutes. Cutting shit out of my film was a good learning experience, sure enough, but if I'm going to hack shit out of my film I want to do it for creative reasons, not because some anal lover demands it.

Alas, nothing can be done, 'tis in the hands of the program committee now and they are trying to get her fired. Nobody likes her apparently. They'd better succeed.

And then 1 week until I depart. This'll be bloody fun, I've never been through an airport before. Just follow the signs I guess. Then 3 weeks of woot. I wonder how slow this week will go. At least there's no college shit, I can pass the time catching up on sleep and playing all the games I've been neglecting. Po games. They want to be played so hard in the face.

Today's post was bought to you by.... well... Iunno...

...

2007-05-24T04:01:00.000+01:00

I'm never aminating again. Ever. Nope.

The Internet is for Stupiding

2007-05-08T17:16:00.000+01:00

Ill, immobile and quite bored I spent the day trundling around the internet looking at bizarre and inane sites much in the same way some poor sports fan's wife begrudgingly allows herself to be dragged into a sports shop by said greasy mustard covered sports fan and spends the next hour wondering what esoteric function all these little contraptions perform and just how poker came to be considered a sport when I came across this comment on the I Hate Horses blog;

'if violence against horses isn't terrorism, i don't know what is.'

I went back to snooze.

A blog composed entirely of title. My network just died, I reset it and spent about 6 hours lastnight forgetting to set the modem to bridge mode >_<

2007-03-16T14:07:00.000Z

Dinosaurs Died Because Everybody Stopped Believing in Them. Be Ashamed!

2007-02-27T20:53:00.000Z

A conversation that took place within the walls of my institute of employment.

Chris: Can you take all this card and put it in the retention unit upstairs please?
Me: The what?
Chris: The retention unit.
Me: Hell's a retention unit?
Chris: The thing upstairs with all the card in.
Me: What? The big box?
Chirs: Yes.

expulsion of fetid and flowery air resulting in Jesus

2007-02-16T23:55:00.000Z

So I swapped the channel of the magic picture box and woo! Platoon is on. It just happened to be that bit where the village guy gets his head smoshed on the floor. I'd probably feel bad about liking that scene if I didn't want to do something similar to so many people right now. Or if I were actually a kind loving sorta person. Instead my soul resembles quite closely Tom Berenger's face. I like Tom Berenger. He's one of those actors who just 'are' and never get any kind of serious recognition. Like Forrest Whitaker. About time he got some kind of award. Not like that Forrest fella who was in my class at college. He was a tuss. I hope he's forced to exist in Cornwall for the rest of his life. Cornwall sucks ass.

Now Captain Kirk is doing his thing on 'the other channel'. He's on a farm. Looks cosy enough. What's the chance some horrible alien is waiting to devour their... or not, these indiginous people look quite cosy too. I bet they milk cows. Moo.

Bucksfizz. Stupid
The cast of Desperate Housewives and the show itself. Stupid.
Russel Brand. If he was a little more restrained as he was long ago in the mists of recent time, he'd be OK. But right now... stupid.
4Music. Stupid.
Damien Rice on 4Music. Really stupid.

I'm guessing someday when I can be assed I'll have something proper to blog about.

What the Bloody Shitting Hell?

2007-02-11T03:22:00.000Z

If I catch the fucker who stole our dustbin I'm gonna put them in it. Piece by piece, week by week.

Who the hell steals a dustbin? They could've at least took the trash too.

GNURGH! writhe RAAAK convulse

2007-02-08T22:28:00.000Z

Seriously... fuck meat!

Title

2007-01-30T06:59:00.000Z

Blog.

Sex is the New Interactive Game from Tomy. Fun for All the Family (ages 5+)

2007-01-01T22:59:00.000Z

Yay. New Year. Woo. Aren't we all happy? Aren't we? Do your bowels, as excited as they are, move in ways that can only be unholy? Rejoice. Do a woo for 'tis a whole new year. Yipee.

I hope you all die this year.

I'm not one for resolutions. Resolutions are made by people who recognise things in their life that they are unhappy with or are bothered by and seem to think that a day that just happens to have meaning prescribed to it by a bunch of ancient dead people will magically make it all change because, as we all know, this isn't just another day.

Merry New Year. Wankers.

An Eternal Shrine

2006-12-19T20:15:00.000Z

Before you are pictures apparently so 'disturbing' they merited deletion from a 'family' forum.
Worship at their 'ghastly' feet.

Burkney is Lord and Master of all that is material. Reclaim thy soul from whatever false God-beast to which you owe allegiance and sell it to Burkney for a wet slipper and a beef on a stick. Sell...

Burklehoff the Deceptivley Ugly and Naked is lover of all things furry, as you should see, unless you are blind in which case what the hell do you think you are doing, eh? Touch him with reverance.

If Jesus Was a Ninja Zombie Pirate, I'd So Be in Church on Sunday

2006-12-14T21:25:00.000Z

The fetid, lame and all round bollocks day that is Christmas Day draws ever closer. Joy to the etc. Now, being a man, I find wrapping presents a little hard. After a little pondering I have concluded this phenomenon is caused by the illogicalitynessness of this action. Men, traditionally the hunter-gatherers in society, with their little man-minds cannot deal with what the id perceives as a metaphor of putting the skin back on a dead meat. When a man kills an animal-creature they take it's 'wrapping' off, cook and eat it or, if you're Scottish, skip the cooking bit and just chomp it down. Therefore, putting the skin back on it makes absoultely no sense to the man-mind. It makes the brain wobble, causing a brief degeneration in the hand-eye co-ordination part of the brain organ and a curious feeling in the knees, often reported as feeling like bathing with a moose. However, the effects of gnoshing up raw meats has resulted in a disease native to Scotland, known as haggis. The digeston of raw meats in Scottish gut-sacks releases strange proteins which sit on the brain and allow Scottish men to shut down the id for the exact amount of time it takes to make a haggis. Therefore, with the id shut down, there is no perceived metaphor and wrapping sheep gibs in a sheep belly-organ comes as no shock to the system. This also allows for the wrapping of presents which in turn gives rise to the notion that Scottish men are a bunch of woofters.

With this in mind (mind?), I have located this article in the vastness of the interweb to help men come to terms with the absurd notion of putting a skinned animal-creature back together without having to first devour a raw family.

Create Me Evil Dolphin Dogs for My War on Spack-Happy-Dribble-Nuts or I'll Put My Foot Up Your Guts

2006-12-09T21:55:00.000Z

At last. Wireless has been introduced 'neath this roof. OK, so... I buy my wireless router ready for when internet gets activated. Fair enough. Internet gets activated I open my router and oh, what's this? Linksys apparently forgot to mention in system requirments that I need an ADSL modem. Fuckers. So yeah, I get me one of those eventually and get round to setting up the wireless. Set up time? 13-14 hours. Now I hear that when the men in white coats started working on wireless routers for the consumer market they decided on ease of installation as opposed to high security. So easy to install was this box of wires that nothing in the manual applied past connecting it, I exhausted my knowledge of networking, several different configurations gleaned from varying internet sources and several questions at Darryl (oh, how his brain demands preservation for future generations) came up with naff all. But... it's done now. Yes.

A few days later (lastnight in fact) my registry decides to have a fit. Not the kind where you can just go into safe mode and do a system restore, not the kind where you can boot the 'last known good configuration'... no. The kind that stops any of them working, the kind that gives you a BSOD whilst the OS is booting, a BSOD that doesn't stick around long enough for you to read, a BSOD that does that just to poke your brain with barbed wire. It was the kind that forces you to format and lose all of your college work. Now if I was a better student I guess I'd be even more pissed than I am right now, but being the lazy shit-master I am there wasn't that much to lose, thankfully it was nothing I can't blag if it comes to it.

So these church folk turn up on my doorstep today. Thing is before I answered the door I knew it was someone religious, a Jehovah's witness or whatever... there was that feeling. I was going to give them my usual 'do you believe in fairies too?' and tell them to actually read the bible cover to cover and see what they think of their self contradictory and really quite evil God then. That is until I saw their pamphlet on *thunder, lightning, a general sense of 'for all the family' evil* the antichrist! Meh. Thought it might be worth a read. Tis amusing that itstarts out saying the antichrist is a person. In fact, if you want to get technical, anyone who isn't a Christian is an antichrist *gleams* But then it somehow turns around and says the antichrist is an action... a verb, a doing word, a word what means an action has/is/will occur/ed/ing/bleh/have you seen my pants? I haven't finished reading it yet, it was a bit preachy and full of the author's intelligence insulting interpretations of scripture and the cover was kinda off putting, I mean Jesus was looking down and the first thing I thought was that off frame you just know Judas is kissing him. I could go into a rant about religion right now but I really can't be fucked and a patch has just finished downloading so I'm going to apply that and shoot things.

The Collective Community That is Emo is an Ass That Needs Wiping.

2006-11-30T17:47:00.000Z

I love college. It's so stupid. Last year we had a big barney with the finance people to blag some proper equipment and we got it; HD cameras (shitty Sony HDR-HC1E's and their crappy single chip lenses and ponced up touch screen controls that just slow things down), unnecessarily large and heavy tripods for such puny cameras, and beefed up PowerMacs for editing. Editing that we can't do on them. See, the system admins are being arseholes about the hard-drives this year, last year the old Macs got filled up with everyone's projects and it got messy and slowed the system down. So on these ones they're all like 'oh, no saving stuff to the hard-drive, we're gonna wipe stuff regular, we're ordering hard-drives for you to keep your stuff on'. That was at the beginning of the semester 2 months ago. We're still waiting for those tasty hard-drives with about 5 weeks until deadline for our first shorts. So our barney was well worth it. Shit cameras, over compensating tripods and tasty (yes, a tasty Mac, quiet you) edit beasts we can't actually use. Got some nice Panther lamps though.

Christmas is coming up. Yipee! Jesus on a moped, I hate Christmas. I was such an asshole as a kid, I never believed in Father Christmas and took great delight in reducing other kids to tears with the revelation that there is no such thing as an omnipotent fat man who slides down your chimney every year. That and other things like how the Tooth Fairy was killed by an Audi station wagon (with graphic felt pen pictures), how my dad brings the Easter bunny home and skins it in the kitchen every few weeks and how the Axe Murderer stalks our neighbourhood, climbs in through your window and kifes your head away so you can't see where you're going anymore (my sister's fault. Such a bad influence). But anyway... well people over here have been preparing for Christmas since September... the middle of fucking summer. I remember when I was wee Christmas was associated with winter, shops only started plugging things at you when your nipples were cold and hard enough to hammer nails into a wall and every morning without fail we would walk to school with those funky little chocolate cigarettes and puff out cold breathe and be all like 'oh yeah, I'm so grown up now, look at me mummy, I'm smoking'. Nowadays it seems like Halloween (tragically under-celebrated in this backwater), Guy Fawkes night and Christmas all come at once. That could be kinda cool though. Carol singers dressed as little imps and goblins singing some happy-clappy Jesus juke box No.1 whilst firing rockets at your house covered in eggs and toilet roll and dancing around a Catholic in a funny hat with a burning tree stuck up him. Such chaos does my mind's eye see... mmmmmmmmmm... but yeah, shops around here start selling Christmas shit near the end of September. At least we are spared the endless TV bombardment of quick fix Christmas dinner and the latest razor for dad which shaves better than the last one which is now defunct and useless because the new one's around. Then there's the whole family thing. Sure it's cool to see everyone together for a few days... but they always stick around for more than a few days and you feel kind of obligated to stick around with them. Last Christmas was cool though. I was ill and spent Christmas and Boxing day holed up on my own in my lovely warm bed. Christmas drinking sucks eggs that are rotten too. During the day is cool, most people stay home with their families meaning the pubs are thankfully not full and getting to the bar and partaking in the purchase of influence is only as hard as your drunken stumbling, gibbering and money waving makes it. But the trogs fear not the light of the moon and when it shines in the night so bright they do crawl out from the holes and gather in hordes akin to the tourist season (only less cultured) and try to get drunker, only the poor barmaid can't keep up with all the people and your left with a realization that the off license is never this busy and neither is your house but by the time that drunken epiphany slaps you on the temple the off license has long been shut and your left lost in a seething mass of townies who cling to the belief that sticking a tub of gel on your head, showering in man-fume and unbuttoning your shirt to expose your hairy chest is a sure fire way to get a girl. But then you also have to ask questions about the girls who go for that look. Yes. I loathe Christmas. The bastard of it is it's the only time of year you can get mince pies. Ass'oles.

I am Returned from a journey that Will Rock Your Cock Should I Tell It. So I Won't. Perverts.

2006-11-29T00:25:00.000Z

Back. Moved House. Took a month for the phone and internet peoples to sort it out. Twats. I have a balcony and a nice view. Woo. If only the sun did its thing on the other side of the house. Boo.

List of cunts for December:
Dan.
Matt.
Stuart.
That blonde girl at the shop, I think she's called Joanne.
That other girl at the shop, nobody knows who she is, I think she just likes to pretend she works there and nobody's noticed.
Me, by default.
The Man, always and forever.

Can't be arsed with an update so here's a picture I found because I could.

Alas for the Heady Days of Summersalts and Sewerside, Dark Vader and Light Savers

2006-10-18T03:14:00.000+01:00

So this guy's all like 'we totally need a new 7 wonders of the world'. Cretins of the world are like 'yeah, awesome idea'. The rest of us are like '.... why?' And why indeed? The 7 wonder of the ancient world are wonderous because except for the pyramids they don't exist anymore. OH, THE WONDER, how it makes my pants warm. OK, sure, some things up for the title of a wonder of the world are deserving of something like that, as superfluous as a title is, like Stonehenge and the Easter Island Statues because they make you go 'ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh. What is it?' But some of the things people are voting for are dumb. The Sydney Opera House? The Statue of Liberty? The Eiffel cocking Tower? Pointless Achievments of Modern World Architecture is a title I wouldn't give these things, let alone a wonder of the world. Check this piss reserve out here.

I Like to Set Fire to People's Children and Laugh

2006-10-16T00:44:00.000+01:00

So there's been a bunch of stuff in the news lately about this teacher who got fired for wearing a shawl or headscarf or whatever you want to call it. Oh yeah, she was Muslim.

What bullshit.

Now I hate religion, I think it's all a bunch of bedtime story, up there with The Lord of the Rings as some of the best fiction ever written. I think if it's going to be in schools it should be only in religious education classes and not some shit like in my first school where we were reprimanded for not saying the Lord's prayer (I thought school was supposed to nurture our powers of opinion forming and thinking for one's self), should be kicked right out of science classes, I mean come on, Christians, for example, believe the world is only 10 000 years old or something despite hard verifiable and proven evidence (yes, evidence, EVIDENCE) to the contrary. When a Godboy asks me if I believe in God I'm going to continue asking them whether or not they believe in fairies and laugh in their God fearing faces when they say 'no, that's just stupid'.

BUT... firing someone because they wear clothing they believe is necessary to practice their religion is just dumb. OK, I don't like religious people, but I'm not going to go out and set fire to a priest for wearing a cowl. It's cloth for fuck's sake. Nobody likes emo's, everyone thinks they look stupid but we don't demand they be removed from schools for dressing dumb. Alas, of course, it is not about the clothes, it is about religion. Apparently it's bad to practice your religion. OK, so there's a lot of talk in the Muslim community about whether or not the head covering thing is really required of women but surely if you want to wear one you can. OK, so, I hate religion and religious zealots and I think religion should be kept out of classes but if you are religious why should you not be able to practice whatever your religion entails in front of other people? As long as it isn't being forced on people, where's the beef? It's clothes. Clothes! CLOOOOOOOOTHES!!!

Parents. Parents usually suck too I find. Parents have a habit of projecting their failures onto their kids and throwing them forcefully into all kinds of activities the kid has no interest in so that the parents can feel some kind of half assed accomplishment and then use their kids as status markers. Oh, my kid was on the winning soccer team. Oh yeah? My kid was the winning soccer team. Oh yeah? My kid single handedly colonized the solar system. Oh yeah? My fat kid blocked the sun and destroyed all those colonies and went on to become head boy at college. Now shower me in love and appreciation for my child's accomplishments, he obviously got it from me, this is my life through proxy, I am worthy, you are scum, worship! More wine anyone? Thank fuck my parents don't understand a single thing I do with my life.

Blehmehgnar. Sleep.

In Summary Then, Doom

2006-10-14T15:37:00.000+01:00

Went to see me lil nephew Alex again today, he is a psychotic little monster, but at least he is used to me now and gives me hugs. He's a clever bastard too, 'specially for 19 months old. I love being a uncle, it is awesome. Going to see Alex means going to see my wee sister and her fella which is always a laugh. I don't know, just makes me feel like I have to make something of myself so I can look out for them.

Going down that neck of the woods though... home town and all that... it's always really depressing. Penzance is a total dive, growing up there in a future life is something I'd totally wish on everyone I hate, moreso considering the way the place is going; increasingly ostracized and directionless youth, millions of pounds worth of durgs coming in through Newlyn (the fishing town) and now gun running (which I find kinda funny in a small place like Penzance), surrounded by miles and miles of stinky farming land and wankhouse little 'idyllic' villages - it's a place people go to to die. It's complete doom. It needs to be dragged into the Atlantic and sunk.

So yes. Doom is the predominant feeling right now.

BUTTONS!!!

2006-10-11T04:07:00.001+01:00

WWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!

:)

I'm in a good mood.

...so I Said "Look Mister, We Don't sell Yellow Snow Cones"

2006-10-07T00:39:00.000+01:00

I'm ill. I'm shaking like an epileptic with pneumonia who's just OD'd on E whilst riding and active electric chair down a log flume with speed bumps. But still I'm in an incredibly good mood. Happy. Yes, happy. How sickeningly nice.

AAAAAAAAARRRGH!!! Damn illination...

Another Night in De-hab

2006-09-30T22:41:00.000+01:00

So my alcoholic side is getting the better of me again. Actually, more the entire self destructive part. But that's a whole other beast. Rawr. Well, maybe not entirely... just yet. It'll be sorted soon enough. But fucking hell, booze doesn't half deny oneself of the powers of denial. Or does it? Does booze break down that wall of denial that enables us to keep going day to day or does booze just make everything seem worse? After all, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. Either way I know what I want right now and it's what I want when I'm sober. Fuck knows I don't deserve it at all, but I want it. In fact I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get it, something I wasn't prepared to do for anything before, not in the slightest. It's just that fucking awesome.

Worry sucks. 'Specially for someone else when you know you can't do shit for 'em.

I Could Be Paranoid, But You Guys All Look Like Sex Offenders

2006-09-27T20:16:00.000+01:00

Wooty. Back to college. At moose-fucking last. Summer went faster than I expected it to. Days seem to get longer as you get older. But looking back it's just flown by. Now time will go even faster being back at college, the mind will be occupied beyond thoughts of 'this job is a complete fucking lame' and 'I hope it's just us Cornish people that are this dumb else I'm just going to have to kill the whole world'. Registration was surprisingly painless beyond the college's continued belief that I took geography at A-Level and got a B for it - I haven't taken geography since 9th grade. Curiously enough my only memory of 9th grade is a geography lesson I spent continuously painting my nails with Tipex and scratching it off again. Loan's been activated (mmmm, monies) and then there was the joyous Student ID thing to be done which meant passport photos to be taken.

Polmounter's makes him look like a 'perverted child sex beast' or whatever over blown tabloid headline you like to attach to such people, Endean's makes him look like he was born backwards and comatose, has just woken up and is still figuring out what the hell is going on and mine... well, I skipped the photo booth at registration and gave the ID people an almost year old photo to which I now bear little resemblance. It's the hair. No barber or insanely jealous bald man has laid hands 'pon my cranial coverings since last November. I think right now my girl curls and skrawny ass figure make me look a bit like an incredibly under-nourished wrestler. Or a girl from behind, as some randy old people like to think. Quite a few times at work I've been groped by old men. It's bad enough I don't like to be touched but to be on the end of a shameless arthiritic fumble... well, it sucks to know men will probably never change.

Well, back to college and a dandy new higher education building that sucks meat shaft. It reeks of new, it's still not finished and today some cock sketch managed to cut the power line to the building with a digger. That meant we had to go back to the older buildings for the further education students and fuck me upside down if it's not an emo brothel. It would appear that the only types of further education students around Truro now are jocks and emos and being aged 16-18 it's easier to view them all collectively as gremlins. Gremlins with a penchant for PDA or public display of affection. Now, I've nothing against couples kissing in public, most couples are quick and kinda cute about it. But these gremlins... it's like pr0n. One couple in particular were at it for about 5 minutes before coming up for air. I don't know why we stopped to watch but we did. Here's an emo couple, the type who've probably been seeing each other for the two weeks that further education students have been back for and probably think they are madly in love with each other already, getting a full on grope session going in the main reception area. This guy's hands were all over the girl's ass who had no shame in groaning a little. And those tight ass pants the guys wear, the ones that leave nothing to the imagination? They really do leave nothing to the imagination. This guy's pelvis pencil was ready to burst, you could hear the throbbing, any longer and people were going to painted penile scarlett with a denim trim. It was like a baby Incredible Hulk. You just don't wanna walk around college watching wall to wall foreplay. Basically, PDA should be kept to a respectful minimum... except in places where it's conviniently very dark :p

Anyway, I had to go back to the new building, I had to see a lecturer who I thought might still be there only to be confronted by one hell of a secretary-wannabe receptionist who told me to leave the building because the lack of electricity, as it was being called (lack of electricity? They just ran out of it? Is some frozen electricity being shipped in from France now?), meant that the fire alarms weren't working. Receptionists are always fun to play with and a response of 'but there isn't a fire' gets you one of those 'I really need to see a doctor about this bug in my ass' sort of looks.

An update: so... my loan got paid in today. Thing is I should only have half of it having been £600 into my overdraft all summer. So I should have around £7-800. However, I actually have £1300-ish. Which is strange because this loan installment was only supposed to be £1200-ish. I also get paid by work tomorrow. Something seems to have fucked up somewhere... not that I'm complaining.

GGNNNUUUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!

2006-09-25T18:37:00.000+01:00

One of these fucking days I'll get my fucking foot out of my mouth even if I have to bite the fucking thing off.

Why is the Plural of Mouse Mice, But the Plural of House is Not Hice

2006-09-09T19:58:00.000+01:00

If a fly gets stuck in a lift and the lift goes down, does the fly stay where it is and get bonked on the bonce?

A late look at Steve Irwin's death. OK, so it sucks, he was an awesome entertainer but had an agenda to protect animals too, which is nice. But his death is just too ironic to not laugh. Here's a guy who actively puts himself in danger's way, poisonous snakes, crocodillios etc, which is entertaining enough, but he does it to ejoomakayt people about them (when was the last time David Attenbrough wrangled a snake?). And in the end he gets owned by a stingray. A sodding fish. A flat fish at that, an ocean faring sentient pancake. What's even awesomer is that he has now joined the few people in the exclusive 'death by stingray club', the last fatality being in 1945. He defied everyone's expectations of having his head funked in by a crocodillio, having his limbs twisted from his limp water logged body or get bit in the eye by some puny little snake so that it swells up in the outback sun, oozing puss, his body convusling as the venom attacks his nervous system sending him into one final doom laden electric boogaloo. But he got sticked by a fish. That's just awesome. And now those crazy Aussie folk are taking out revenge killings. Revenge killings on fish. It's like some kind of Tupac and Biggie thing. So Irwin has possibly one of the funkiest death legends ever. Still, kinda sucks he won't be making any programs anymore. Steve Irwin, we salute you.

So this mother and her little girls are walking around work and the kids are playing up as kids are wont to do. Now, parents and kids that go shopping seem to fall into one of two categories. The parents are either totally incapable of controlling their kids and flip out at them more than is neccessary or the parents just don't give a fuck and let the kids run riot around a working shop that is full of nice heavy things to fall on their soft little skulls. Apparently there's no such thing as a parent that can control their kids, at least around here. But then most parents around here these days are still learning basic algebra. That is, how to spell and say it. Anyway, of the two types I prefer the latter, it means there's a greater chance of an annoying brat being swiftly removed from this mortal coil through canned proxy. But this mother was the first type. Couldn't control her kids so in her maternally loving way she calls her daughters little bitches and hits them upside the head with a box of fish. I was going to say something but then I thought I'd just leave it. I mean those kids are going to grow up to hate her anyway. Why say anything? I'm quite content to sit back and watch families fall apart. And other things. Like the world. It's good entertainment.

Speaking of which, some crazy new building has just been finshed down the road that runs off its own wind turbine things. I love how people are all like 'save the world, man' and as soon as anyone puts up some renewable energy harnessing devices of harnessing everyone's like 'oh, that looks horrible'. People on the moors are the worst. They're as much into saving the Earth as anyone so they can preserve their 'beautiful landscapes'. It just so happens these 'beautiful landscapes' are also windy as fuck, excellent places to put turbines. As soon as anyone even thinks about considering setting up turbines on the moors all the locals are like 'NO WAY FELLA, that'll look ugly'. What the fuck do these guys want? Before long there's not going to be any 'natural beauty' left because it'll be all burnt up along with the whinging countryside cunts who live there. Ooh arr, ooh arr, Oi loik me milk creemee. Oooh arr. I wonder what a flaming redneck looks like anyway.

Poor Frankenstein's Monster. He just wanted love.

The Black Dahlia. That was crap. Elizabeth Short rarely comes into the story, her character developed through a bunch of screen tests scattered throughout the film that do nothing to make you feel any kind of empathy for her. The rest of the film is about Dwight (Josh Hartnett) and Leland (Aaron Eckhart) and their relationship with the apparent 'eye candy' that is Kay (Scarlett Johansson). Oh, and the rediculously over-acted femme fatale Madeleine (Hilary Swank). It's like the film goes through all these people's lives and then remembers that there's the whole Black Dahlia murder thing going on and occasionally goes back to it to go like 'oh yeah, that's what this film is about'. The Chelsea Smile scene sucked major ass too, it wasn't at all as gruesome as it should've been. I mean this girl gets her mouth cut open and the best de Palma could come up with was a pansy smear of blood as the knife goes in. You have to wait until the very end to see some molars. And that sucked too. What the hell is Scarlett Johansson? People really think she's hot? She has a mouth like an onion ring. The only reason I can see that guys think she is hot is because that mouth has but one single use, which is probably how she gets any of her jobs considering she can act as well as I can.

For Sale: Baby. Unwanted Christmas Present, Boxed as New

2006-09-08T22:19:00.000+01:00

So Court's all like 'MAKE ME PLAYLISTS! NYAAARGH!!' So, here is mine. Me reckons Court will not like any of it :p

1. The Amazing Royal Crowns - Shiverin' in the Corner
2. The Meteors - Dog
3. Ghoultown - Return of the Living Dead
4. The Matadors - Pink Lincoln
5. The Jim Carroll Band - People Who Died
6. 12 Step Rebels - The Ballad of Frankenstein's Monster
7. The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Devil's Waitin'
8. Concrete Blonde - Ghost Riders in the Sky
9. Dropkick Murphys - World Full of Hate
10. Bombshell Rocks - On My Way
11. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Date With the Night
12. Nirvana - Aero Zeppelin
13. The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster - Celebrate Your Mother
14. Fugazi - Life and Limb
15. Johnny Cash - The Man Comes Around
16. Gary Numan - Crazier [Hybrid Version]
17. Covenant - Happy Man
18. Massive Attack - Black Milk
19. Cubanate - Hinterland
20. Aphex Twin - Schottkey 7th Path
21. Faithless - Mass Destruction [Single Mix]
22. Nine Inch Nails - Last
23. Gravity Kills - Breakdown
24. Rob Zombie - Living Dead Girl
25. Ministry - Gangreen

And the Lord Said 'Let There Be Awesome', But the Conservatives Objected

2006-09-01T00:20:00.000+01:00

I woke up this morning, got ready for work etc, grabbed my shoes, slipped one on, went for the second and lo, suddenly my arse clenched in horror, my pants sagged under the weight of liquid terror, the smell of fear filled the room, a stench so potent it hung in the air like Scotch mist... a sodding spider had found refuge inside me Chucks. Needless to say, that spider cashed in on my 'first lesson free' flying school and experienced the full wrath of Chuck Taylor's left foot right on its petite bonce. The day took an even bigger turn for the worse when, browsing through the latest issue of Empire as I am wont to do, I came across the title for the new Die Hard film... Live Free or Die Hard. But can this title really be faulted? Retarded names come with retarded directors, in this case Len Wiseman, the scrotum responsible for the softcore porno abominations that were Underworld 1 and 2. I've taken it upon myself to direct Die Hard 5 and I shall call it O McTiernan, Where Art Thou? wherein McLaine will duel to the death with the criminal underworld thugs responsible for his botched sex change, an operation taken immediately following the chubby sucking fourth film. In light of the increasing failings of Hollywood I've come to realise that my other major idea, Jaws vs King Kong in Space is a sure fire hit.

Now my rant is done, I shall get back to my accoustic resuscitation. The wall is intact and needs a head shaped hole in it.

Mummy, Mummy, There's a Rapist Under My Bed, Can I Have a Glass of Water?

2006-08-26T21:28:00.000+01:00

I love how newspapers and other article type magazines describe murderers, rapists, paedophiles etc. as monsters. If giving in to natural urges makes you a monster, then we all are. Granted, these urges are a bit darker than the urges any 'normal' person has, but really for these people it's the same as a chocoholic feeling compelled to eat more chocolate and yet no one calls these people monsters. Why? Because it's natural. People who kill do so because they fell the urge to. Pretty much every report of a murderer I've read has some mention of this urge. Some who don't get caught carry on - Bundy, Gein, Sutcliffe, Fred and Rose West... all killed because they were compelled to. OK, so it's a bit harsh to kill someone and there really is no need for it (most of the time) but at the end of the day it's totally natural. Agression is a characteristic of the human condition. Killers aren't monsters... they as normal as you or me, it's just their chocolate is fleshy and soft... mmmmm, soft fleshbits... blood... ahem...
Rapists. It's a control and power thing just like asshole bosses who exercise their power because they like to. Rapists rape because it's like the ultimate expression of power. They're not monsters, they just exercise their power in a brutal way. And paedophiles. I've always thought that maybe paedophillia is as natural as homosexuality. I mean would you really make a conscious decision to look at naked toddlers? Wee children are hardly desirable. But maybe not. Perhaps there's a power thing there too. I don't know... but it's still an urge that needs to be satisfied. Don't get me wrong, I'm not condoning murder (except in a few exceptional cases), rape (except in the same cases because that would be funny) or paedophillia. I'm just saying why label them as monsters when they are as normal as anyone else? I think it's just a way for people to make themselves more comfortable. 'Normal' people don't consider themselves to be monsters so to distance these social divergents from themselves they label them monsters. How comfortable. I guess it also makes people think they are even less capable of any of these things.

The way a header to a report on Kroll was worded made me laugh;
"... he was called "Uncle" by the neighborhood children, until he killed and ate one..."

Rob Zombie's House of 1000 Corpses... it seems I can't see a decent film lately. The last good film I watched was Cube, but it's more the idea that carries the film rather than it actually being that good. The performances were terrible, except for that idiot savaunt fella. He had that shit down, yo. Anyway, House... so it's a kinda cool-but-done-before story (rednecks live on a house on a hill, murdering passers-through as and when they pass through) with the usual stereotypes including the no-longer-to-be-used cheerleaders. The film itself has a Zombie feel to it, it's colorful, it's detached, it's unreal... it's a cool world that the film is set in and were the thing any good it would've been awesome. But no time is given to the characters, we don't know what makes them tick really, it's hard to care for them and when it comes round to seeing them get offed you're neither 'oh no, they're being killed' nor 'God, these characters suck, get a shifty on'. They're just meat. The Firefly family itself is also bereft of anything that can provide any kind of empathy or reason to give a shit about what they're doing. It's like they're killing people just because. Baby Firefly's laugh is annoying. It's a cool thing for the character, it fits, a 'hot' chick who gets off on killing and has a cute innocent laugh... but Sheri Moon forces it too much. Her performance wasn't terrible, but she was all too aware of the type of character she was playing and as such played it up more than was necessary. The end of the film was terrible. It goes from a not so much believable as plausible killer family flick to an entirely un-believable (not in a good way) pseudo-monster movie. The things under the house just do not fit. And then there's the good old 'the end' title. There's no reason to put 'the end' on a bloody film, it's obvious when a film has finished. But to suddenly fade an added '?' onto the end? That was the final nail in a film that came close to annihilating Zombie's legendary image. At least the theme tune is cool.

Sometimes I think parents should be lisenced. So, this mother and her baby in a pushchair comes into work, does her shopping, goes to pay and leaves... without her baby. None of us had quite cottoned onto this fact right away, the job has a way of numbing your brain, we weren't sure if the baby belonged to some other customer who was at the tills until the mother came bursting back into the shop flapping her arms and screaming 'omigawdomigawd'. How do you forget a baby? Screw the baby, how do you forget something you've been pushing arond town all day? People are stupid. Like this guy in Greece I think it was, tried killing himself and his two boys by jumping off a 6 storey building. Now, the boys died, but he was hospitalized. Well... that's what you get for jumping 6 storeys. A bit of an iffy number if you're trying to kill yourself. Now, he said he was planning to kill himself and he took his boys too because he loved them and didn't want them growing up without a dad. I believe that... but you can love someone too much, you know? Kinda like Van Gogh and his ear. Cutting off your ear and giving to your girl is a pretty big expression of feeling... but maybe a bit much? Thing is, people don't see this. People wouldn't cut their ear off for someone they love and think Van Gogh was crazy for it. People think this guy who jumped didn't love his boys at all. I feel he loved them too much which is why he took them. But oy, what a dumbass. Who the hell can' kill themselves properly? It's not hard, not hard at all.

Alas, I grow weary of this mortal coil. I'm going to fling myself from my bed and I'm taking Teddy with me! DON'T TRY AND STOP ME!

Fear My Army of Super Trained Photograph Envelopes

2006-08-23T21:44:00.000+01:00

MATT RHYMES WITH TWAT! COINCIDENCE? NOPE.

... and Later That Day All the Fish Turned into Haunted Hot Dog Stands

2006-08-20T16:56:00.000+01:00

Takashi Miike's Imprint is a total must see episode of the Masters of Horror series. Apparently, they are all pretty good and I can't wait to get my mitts on Joe Dante's Homecoming (an army of the undead - with political agendas!), but ya.... Imprint. OK, so the story gets a bit confused and hard to follow and Billy Drago's acting seems a bit contrived next to the natural performances of everyone else... but this film was typically Miike. We forgive you. People keep stealing my ideas before I think of them. A couple weeks ago I see this person smile and it made me want to slice open their gums then I watch this and Kimomo is getting needles stuck in hers in one of the awesomest torture scenes ever commited to celluloide. One would be inclined to think Miike has a thing for needles. Kakihara's weapon of choice in Koroshiya Ichi, Asami's torture device of choice in Oodishon and now Imprint. Mmmmm.... needles are fun. Maybe I should find some use for needles in my final major this year. Suggestions on a postcard. Make sure it's a nice one, though, I hate postcards with pictures of some shit ass cottage on a peninsula in the middle of buttfuck, nowhere.

Speaking of buttfuck, nowhere, that is exactly where Jake West must be banished to, director of Evil Aliens (I say director, it should be read talentless Sam Raimi fanboy), possibly the shittest... no, definitely the shittest movie I have ever seen. While the premise of a TV crew investigating alien abductions in a remote Welsh village is respectable in a kind of low budget B-movie way, the way it was handled... wow. OK, so, the characters are hideous. It represents everyone in the media as a coke fiend, gays as raging queens, UFO conspiracy theorist types as pubescent nerds who fantasize about fucking aliens with three tits and Welsh farmers as non-English speaking permanently pissed backwater rednecks (although that last one may not be too far from the truth). West didn't even try to squeeze a half way convincing performance from any of these 'actors' resulting in hideous 1-dimensional charicatures spouting equally diabolical dialogue that sounds like it was written by a 5 year old having a fit with a pencil up his nose. Really... it's that bad. Then there's the CGI. Put it this way... Jake West is the new Ed Wood. There was nothing like a big enough budget for effects... but they used them all the same. There really is nothing credible about this movie. It does, however, have a use. If you're planning on committing suicide this will be a plenty big enough soul destroying film that will make stringing yourself up seem like a pleasant experience, if only to try and erase the mongloid of a film that this is from your memory. What's even scarier is that this film actually won an award and Ain't it Cool News gave it a good review. Mind you, they said it's a good audience film which is true if you're looking for something to viciously rip the piss out of in a social setting.

I'm going to see how many trucks I can stop with my head... I can't live with the memory of this film any longer... and people say British cinema is going places.

News Just In: Anal Virginity Now No Longer Assured

2006-08-12T21:12:00.000+01:00

I'm really quite tired of hearing about this terrorism business. I remember a time when you could comfortably sit down on a bus next to a total stranger and even have a random conversation with some. Now, post 9/11, we're all too busy wondering whether or not this charming old lady or whoever else is packing some serious explosives. So the security people caught 24 terroists, woo, go you, big it up or whatever... just get it out of my fucking face. How many times a day do I need to be reminded of it? Actually, it's about once an hour until after 9PM, then it's about every two hours. YA-FUCKING-WN! If I'm honest, I don't care anymore. Actually, a small part of me wants terrorists to 'win'. Let's see the mighty West bought to its knees. This is the bit where the bloody SAS come rapelling through my window and blow seven shades of shit out of me plus a bonus shade of shit for every tenth bullet, get it while you can.

OK, so, in the apparent interests of our safety, we are no longer allowed to take... well, anything really, onto a plane. Anything we are allowed to take (and there isn't much worth taking) has to be kept in a clear plastic bag, a single bag at that. We're not allowed to carry anything in our pockets. Why the fuck not? Is it really that much hassle to empty pockets at security? For all you budding business types out there, now's the time to buy stocks and shares in the freezer bag industry. Lord knows it's gonna boom. Only wallets, passports and tickets, medicines (but no liquid ones unless verified as genuine), baby stuff (nappies, milk which must be tasted by the parent etc) tampons, tissue (both out of the box), glasses without cases and keys without electric bits are allowed into the cabin. And it's not one check. You get a second right before boarding the plane. Who the fuck comes up with this dumb shit. In the interests of our safety? Air travel isn't safe by its very nature. Man was never meant to fly. Sitting in ten ton flying tub just is not safe, no matter how many measures you take to stop a crash... nevermind fucking bombs. Christ, if a bird goes in an engine you can be pretty fucked. But where's this war on birds? Anyway... so this new security shit is pretty good, right? I mean we're all gonna be sitting in cabins staring straight forward for fuck knows how many long hours. We'll be the zombies our caring governments want us to become. Everyone's happy. The only good thing about the UK security checks is that our hold luggage can still be locked up so the bloody throwers and other security people don't steal your shit. I hear in the US this isn't the case. And do airline companies take responsibility for 'lost' items? Do they fuck.

Christ, in the interests of our safety... what a crock of shit. The world isn't safe, never has been, never will be. Whether I die getting blown up on a plane or getting hit by a truck is of no consequence... I'm still dead either way. Shit happens. Safety is an illusion, anyone who thinks otherwise is just asking for it. I don't even feel safer. If anything, I feel scrutinized. I'm sick of hearing this 'if you've got nothing to hide, why worry' shit. I've got nothing to hide, I've got nothing to worry about. It's true. So why do I feel less safe with all these police around? Fuck, this isn't even London. This is shitty little Cornwall. Come to think of it, I don't even know what I'm being protected from.

So... all you security types. Why stop where you are? Why not go all the way? Bring on that tub of vaseline, slap on that rubber glove and take me to that 'consultation room' in the sky.

Aah, fuck it. In the spirit of the whole thing... let's just roll with it...

Slapping People with Pancakes Makes the Most Awesome Sound

2006-08-07T23:47:00.000+01:00

So... arms companies design, engineer and sell weapons specifically designed to kill people. These are 'legitimate' businesses. These people are profiting off of the death of millions of people. Now, if I was to go out and kill a single person, I'd be sent up.

Tabloids are some of the best reads around. The Sun was pimping this English sniper who's slotted 39 people on his own out in Afganhistan (trans-literation is fucking dumb. How do you spell Afghanistan? Why not just Afganistan?). But they won't name him just in case he becomes a target himself. Right... I'm sure that the Taliban are out there reading fucking English tabloids. The paper calls the army Our Boys too. Christ, they make it sound like it's a game out there. War ain't fucking football. Then again, a certain social circle would pound your head in for saying that.

What the bloody hell is up with football fans anyway? It's like these people hit puberty and just kept on going. I mean some of them are hairy enough, eh? This documentary was made by Channel 4 during the world cup to take a look at hooliganism. Strangely enough, a lot of the riots there weren't reported in the papers. Full scale riots started in the name of the game, the game being 22 men chasing an inflated pig's bladder for rediculous pay cheques. People love to bring up the war (I love how you can say the war and know that it means World War 2), especially the Brits. These twats, they went to this museum in Nuremberg, went out on some balcony and did a Nazi salute. Why do people bring the war into it anyway? They weren't even there. Their concept of war is grandaddy slumped in some sweat stained arm chair that he hasn't moved from for the last 50 years, whiskey in one hand, pipe in the other going on about how all his mates were 'a jolly good ol' bunch of chaps, wot wot'. Then there's the whole England beat Germany in the war crap. Maybe everyone fell asleep during history class... the fucking Russians took Berlin. I say if we're gonna see hooliganism in football, let's see it in other sports. Like croquet or lawn bowls. I'm sure the old folk would love a good riot... loosen up the joints a bit, feel young again. How about archery? Archery riots could be fun.

My Child's Psychic was just shown on Channel 4, a documentary following two psychic children. While I don't buy into all the new age neo-hippy crap (indigo crystal children? Oh, please) I don't dismiss psychic phenomena. I don't 'believe' in it either, per se, more accept it as fact, an as yet undeveloped human capability, possibly residing within us all. Naysayers... they're just blind to extreme possibility. Things like ESP fly in the face of everything they've been taught. It's like if it wasn't taught at school, it's all lies and can't possibly be true. How can you dismiss it out of hand though? Neurology is a very new science, what we know of how the mind and the brain works is but a miniscule piece of a large, complex puzzle. Kinda like a Puzz3D, only squishier and sentient. I mean come on, worldwide reports of the same phenomenon can't all be exclusively false, can they? Sure, some psychics are total hacks, they are just very good at cold reading (being able to tell things about people just by looking at their body language), they just don't realise it. Hell, they probably don't even know what cold reading is and, as such, attribute their skill to ESP. But what about these people who predicted the 9/11 attacks? They painted pictures of the attack a few months before they happened. A six year old kid on this TV show was saying he could see a train in the next garden. There wasn't a train, but years and years before there was a train line passing through where the houses are now standing. Last year, I decided I wanted to go to the local haunted castle at Pengersick. A mate decided he'd bring this girl along too, as she was a medium and had been planning to visit there for some time. While we experienced nothing supernatural, she came up with all this stuff about the place she had no knowledge of before, communicated with several of the spirits there. You can't cold read a building. People should open their minds a little, they all act as if everything there is to know has been discovered and just needs a little research to know everything about it. Christ, people used to think the Earth was flat until whoever it was went sailing around it. I think the same principal applies here.

Can't get enough of this Lee Press-on and the Nails. I guess it's horror swing. Swing is awesome, it needs a revival. Then the men can get suited and booted with funky hats and the girls can prance around in funky dresses. I can't get enough of Rue Morgue Radio either. Speaking of Rue Morgue, I read Edgar Allen Poe's Murders in the rue Morgue the other night. While it was as beautifully written as any of his work, I was left underwhelmed. For ages and ages I've heard people talking about the cult status of this story... I was expecting something a little more worth my while than an escaped fucking orangutan. It's not even worth a spoiler I was that underwhelmed. I cried a little inside. And that French guy... what a smart ass. I bet his bonce was flushed so many times in school he grew gills. That's how much of a smart ass he was. He knew how to force evolutiuon. What a prick.

Oooh, I watched The Wolf Man too. Pretty cool film. Like all old films though, it wears its subtext on its sleeve; the duality of our personalities. Not that this is a problem in my book, it's just a bit jarring going from multi-layered present day flicks to actors who might as well be wearing signboards explaining what's going on. But how many people are aware of 'the darkness inside' *thunder and lightning*? This guy asks me if this jar of jam is honey... and I felt like taking a knife and sticking it in that nice soft bit under his tongue. At the same time I was pleasantly and calmy telling him 'no... it's not honey, it's jam'. Red honey? Was he that stupid or was it just that not all his corn was popping? Anyway, how many people realise that that little voice is 'the darkness inside' *lashing rain and hooting owl*? See, most of us keep it held back for the vast majority of the time. But every once in a while, when the moon is full and the night is still... or whenever, it all comes out. RAWR! Just like that. I like the dark side of the psyche. It is intriguing, especially in this sugar coated candy floss world.

By the by, pancakes really do make an awesome sound when you slap people with them.

They Said I was Crazy When I Wanted to Glue Catfish to My Knees. Now Look... Free Room and Board and a Free Enema Every Day. Life is Sweet

2006-08-02T23:25:00.000+01:00

The mind (mind?) boggles... so, I was just reading this small article on Meta-Religion and these scientist type people found this huge 'blob' in space which is 200 million light years across.... 200 MILLION!

I was watching Big Brother too, it's kinda interesting from a sociological point of view. So, Big Brother went 'on holiday' so it was like there was no authority present in the house... the house being a small world and the contestants being the population in a psychological experiment perspective. What happened? They couldn't deal with it. Authority fucks off and everyone wants it back. I notice this at work too, when the boss is away everyone wants him back to make things run smoother. Are people so dependant on the system now? I mean apply this nationally and no doubt there are gonna be millions that can't cope without it. Mind you, these are the same people who question nothing, they just accept everything they are told out of hand.

This blind-ish guy comes into work and asks the boss if there's someone who can help him with his shopping. The boss is on a till as is everyone else in the shop at that time, except me, I was out on lunch. So the boss says no, there isn't anyone available and this guy flips out going on about how it's because he's blind. Now the boss has a mark against his name for something that couldn't be helped at the time. What gets me is that some disabled people are all like 'oh, I'm not disabled, I'm just less able than 'normal' people, treat me like a normal person' etc until such a time comes that their disability actually becomes a convinient way to get attention or something done. Why? It's kinda devious. So are old people. They seem to think that the world owes them something for making it past 75 and they kick right off when they don't get it. It's all so sad it's funny.

Haha, shadow tax is getting to be a big thing now too. I'm not sure if it's the local council or nationwide, I forget what paper I read it in, but we are now going to be fined £110 for putting our garbage out too early. What the fuzzy fuck? What shitting difference does it make to anything what time the garbage is put out? Who's idea was that? I take my hat off to 'em, such stupidity takes skill.

Why do people tell bums to 'get a job'. That easy huh? If it was, I'm sure they would. Do people stop to think that perhaps these guys may run into trouble when asking for a job application? 'Hi, I'm looking for a job. Please excuse the fact that I reek of my own shit and piss. Also pay no attention to my unpresentable appearance. I must have left my good clothes in my other gutter on the other side of town'. Homeless people have nothing and will continue to have nothing unless someone somewhere gives them a chance. Besides, plenty of homeless people look for jobs. Job Centres here are always full of them. They just don't get jobs because they don't have a bloody suit. What a fucking lame. I hope one day I might be in a position to employ exclusivley homeless people. Maybe I'll get a documentary crew together or something...

What the fuck's a suit for anyway? To look respectable? I find people out of suits to be more sincere and more respectable than people in them. Hell, I don't even feel like myself in my work shit. I'm so much more me out of it.

Sitting here in isolation, a cigarette burning blissfully away, Tchaikovsky's somber violins breaching the darkest doors of my mind's recesses... I am thankful for what I have, something a lot more people should be. But it saddens me. There are far more deserving people than me who have nothing. I'm even lucky enough to have debt. I'm lucky enough to be facing a turbulent and financially unstable future, at least to begin with. Oy vey...

Yesterday, a Goat Kicked Me. I Proceeded to Batter It to Death With It's Own Soul

2006-07-26T21:14:00.000+01:00

What is it about music that engages the mind the way it does? The briefest moment of music is enough to inspire an emotion that vastly outlives the playing time. It can make you feel something that you may have never felt before, it can make you feel something on a larger scale than you have felt it before. Even crap music instills a sense of intense frustration. Art, photography, film... all require analysis before you know what it is that it's making you feel, even if you do feel something right away. You still need to think about it to realise what it is. Where does the instantaneous reaction to music come from?

I've been following the war in the Middle East with a bit more interest than I usually give to conflicts... bollocks, I've forgotten where I was going with that...

...

Wankers. Fuck it :p

It Was a Nice Day Until My Legs Imploded. That Happens to Me Sometimes

2006-07-24T12:40:00.000+01:00

Take Two Faces "Murder Training" Lawsuit
By Staff, DirectX.Com	February 18, 2005
Take Two, the publisher of the Grand Theft Auto game series, is once again facing yet another frivolous a lawsuit that alleges its software was complicit in murder. The legal action was filed on behalf of the families of police force staff shot dead in Fayette, Alabama in 2003, allegedly by one Devin Thompson. Thompson was apprehended on suspicion of driving a stolen car. The lawsuit maintains that Thompson's actions that day were inspired by the GTA series, games he is claimed to have played obsessively. The games amount to "training" for the alleged killings. The lawsuit claims the video game "Grand Theft Auto" led a Thompson to shoot two police officers, Arnold Strickland and James Crump, and a dispatcher, Leslie Mealer, to death in 2003, mirroring violent acts depicted in the popular game. Thompson is accused of killing the three men in June 2003 after being brought to the Fayette police station on suspicion of driving a stolen car. Thompson allegedly grabbed one of the officer's guns, shot him and the other two, then fled in a patrol car. "What has happened in Alabama is that four companies participated in the training of Devin ... to kill three men," attorney Jack Thompson told The Tuscaloosa News, which reported the suit's filing. Thompson is now 18 years old, but at the time of the shootings he was 16. As such, the lawsuit claims, he should not have been sold GTA III and GTA: Vice City, which carry an M rating - for 'mature audience only', ie. anyone 17 years old or more. On that basis, the plaintiffs requested that the book also be thrown at retailers Wal-Mart and Gamestop for allegedly allowing Thompson to buy the games. It also names Sony, as manufacturer of the PlayStation 2 console on which Thompson is said to have played the games. This isn't the first time GTA has got its publisher and retail partners in trouble. At least two lawsuits relating to the game are currently pending against Take Two and, separately, BestBuy. The lawsuit was announced in the same week that the US Interactive Entertainment Merchants Association (IEMA) publicly criticised the California legislature's attempt to ban the sale of violent games to children.

Reported on DirectX.com

Once again video games are being blamed for the violence inherent in society. Did Hitler play too much Pong? I think not. Did the Mongol Hordes play too much Pac-Man? Nope (they didn't have them, though, so shush up, I'm being ironical). Games don't create violence in society, games are created from the violence in society. There are murderes, rapists etc bla everywhere, always have been, always will be. Blaming popular media and culture is a simple, quick answer given by people so out of touch you'd think they were born middle aged. They ignore the deeper issues behind extreme behaviour, shitty environments that push people over the edge, ostracisation from a society that still expects them to play by their rules and, quite simply, the human condition. Games are not responsible for my anger, the fights I've had, the shit I've given to a lot of people. I am responsible because of my inability to deal with my environment. I've played GTA, who hasn't, it's fun as fuck. It doesn't make me feel like going out and hammering some old lady to death with her dog. Anyone who does feel like that probably already has that inside them. Games to dull the senses and provide respite from the tedium of day to day life are imply not to blame.

As for throwing the book at the people who sold the game... well... why? If someone looks old enough to buy an age restricted product they aren't really old enough to buy, you aren't going to ask for ID are you? There is no difference between a 16 and 17 year old and what the fuck does a 16 year old look like anyway?

Right, rant over. I'm going out to get some chang for Boss Tony and maybe slot some lawmen on the way. THE LAW!!! FEAR!!!

L'Rant Politicale from Your Saucy French Waiter

2006-07-23T12:30:00.000+01:00

People bitch and moan about being continually fucked by the system. Well do something about it. Power to the people? The people already have the power, they just don't realise it. We all fall into line so easily because we are made to believe that we will never be anything better than what we are told we will be by a system that seeks to control us, a system that aims to keep us in our place and fulfill the ambitions of greedy white collars the world over who truly believe that ranks, titles, big cars and suits give them domain over other people. The truth is they are no better than us and we are no better than them. We are all human, all animals and at the most fundamental sub atomic level we are all one.

Workers should be paid a hell of a lot more. We are the ones who do the work that keep the companies in business. We do the hard work day in, day out, knackering our bodies and dulling our minds for a pittance, a pittance that only just allows us to survive. Of course, this is how the system has been engineered. If we get only just enough then we aren't going to be retiring any time soon. If our minds are thoughtless, undeveloped husks we aren't going to believe that we can be so much more than what we do for a living. Who gets the bonuses at the end of the year? Not the workers, the people who made the money that those bonuses are made of in the first place. The whilte collars, the fat cats, they give it to themselves, these people who already have more money they know what to do with. Unjust. Now, I'm all for making money if you can. But not at the expense of others, people who could really use it. Profits should be distributed equally to workers under a certain pay grade and bring the distribution of wealth within companies to something that can be seen as a fair and standard level for all or, better yet, everyone should be paid the same, irrespective of position. Nobody is worth any more or any less than anyone else, why should anyone make any more or less than anyone else. If you want to make more, then do it off your own back, not other peoples. At least you will have really earnt it.

Healthcare is a right, not a privelege. What is money or class to dictate who lives and dies? I've never met one upper class person who had anything that could constitute a soul. They were all eccentric, mindless shells who had more money than they knew what to do with and, as a result, did nothing. But were they to fall ill, well, they'd b set up to get whatever they needed just like that. Working class people are of much more worth to society. Homeless people, I find, are the most interesting people to meet. I enjoy the odd conversation I have with one on the way home from work sometimes. They have stories to tell, they have ideas, but can these ideas be given to society? No, they have no money and no one to give them money based entirely on the fact that if they are homeless, they are undeserving. How many possibly useful contributions to society die each night because someone doesn't have a place to go? The working class, the homeless, when we get sick we're pretty much fucked. We can't afford private healthcare and as such are forced to rely on the NHS which is far too overworked. I, for one, respect the work of the NHS. People moan about waiting times and waiting lists for all sorts of things, but tell them to pay and go private, they shut right up. You can't moan about a free healthcare service. At least we have one. However, everyone should have equal rights and access to it. Fair enough, a system to cater for the entire nation can't be run for free, but it can be run affordably for all.

The same goes for education. Money and class seems to dictate who goes where and learns what and also it determines the quality of the education. Fair enough, you could say you make your own education, you get out what you put in and all that crap, but having no access to certain things will have its effects. Hell, people with expensive educations rarely learn anything anyway. A whole bunch of kids I knew way back when got sent to boarding school, met them a few years later and they hadn't changed a bit, they'd learnt nothing. Christ, they were all bloody thieves. The amount of stories of people going and stealing shit around the schools was unreal. Why didn't they learn? Because they knew that, in the end, they had their parents and their money to fall back on. The only ones who made anything of themselves were the ones who had parents savvy enough to cut their kids off. But of course, now they're the ones out there believing they have domain over us little people. The little people, I find, are the ones who make the best of their education. Sure, we don't get good equipment or facilities, I've been in four classes that have had replacement teachers at some point because we drove the original teachers to some kind of breakdown, not that any of the teachers were all that good anyway, and we're being taught really basic, boring shit. But, those who wanted out of Cornwall, out of financial difficulty, they took everything they could from it. Me? I fucked up, or that's what I thought at the time. Now I see I was ahead of myself, I was going against the system, only at the time I didn't know why, so I thought I had just fucked up royal. The system needs to be more inclusive. Fuck class and money, why does that have to tell us who is predetermined to go to a good school or not? Everyone should have the same access to the same equipment and facilities, the same teaching standards and we should all be allowed to make choices about our education at a much younger age. Fourteen years of my life have been wasted learning shit I neither need or am interested in. Maybe I wanted to learn Latin, maybe I wanted to learn archaeology. But why couldn't I? Because my folks weren't rich enough.

The government. Oy, what a fucking mess. Peerage loans, secretaries whoring themselves to their bosses because they are loaded, bullshit policies that protect pedophiles and murderers... the government is made of people who want to see the country run a certain way. It shouldn't work like that. The government should be a mouthpiece for the people, the government should be the enablers that make what the majority want to see happen, happen. Instead, the country is run by people who look to line their own pockets. People get into the government for themseves, not the people and as such, it doesn't represent us. We're told we live in a democracy, but all I've ever voted on is which twat isn't as bad as the others. What about all this voting on changes to law and policies. I want to vote on that as well. I want to vote, I don't want to have some representative do it for me because I've never been asked by our local MP what I think about anything. I've never been asked by anyone working for our local MP what I think about anything. So isn't it true to say that government policies only represent the majority of those who have been asked anything? This does not represent the people at all. It represents a small cross section of people who just happened to be passing someone with a clipboard who had the good grace to take five minutes out of their life to answer a few questions.

Immigration and culture. So many people believe our culture is under threat from 'them', whoever 'they' are. Chinese, Pakistani, Indian... what difference does it make. No one is better or worse than anyone else. I can't see that our culture is under threat from these immigrants when you consider that England doesn't actually have any bloody culture, garlic bread aside. It's just a cretinous little island that's still having difficulty coming to terms with its post imperialisitc place in the world. And look at the history of the world. No culture ever lasts. So why worry if we even had one? Who the fuck are we to tell people where then can and can't live. Nevermind telling immigrants to learn English. Why don't you learn Chinese? Of course, the people saying this have the intellectual capacity of a turd on a stick. But this just comes from ignorance to the fact that they are no better or worse than the people they victimise.

This country, if not the entire Western world, is well overdue a revolution. We're tired of being bullied about by corporations, the fuzz, the government, but there's only so much shit people will take. You keep pushing someone, sooner or later they're going to start pushing back and there's a lot more of us than there are them. Fuck me if that ain't gonna be ugly. Recognise no master, take no subjects and rise the fuck up.

Водка Should Be Pronounced Votka, But Noooo...

2006-07-17T23:55:00.000+01:00

There's a not unpleasant tingley on my tonguey. Why is the hourglass? It's not doing anything. Video. Letter paper. I need new shoes. Very new shoes. To keep my feet dry. DRY! And maybe some new strings. Mmmm... Slinkies. Why don't they come coloured? :'(

Christ in a Hamster Ball...

2006-07-17T19:43:00.000+01:00

... it's bloody hot. Too bloody hot. Like 29 cocking degrees. And the shop has run out of Coke. Good one.

This morning was just weird. So, there was the retard (in the sense that the guy was retarded, not just really stupid) over the road on the way to work this morning swinging on scaffolding. I paid no attention, this is Cornwall and retards doing silly things are just part of life down here. About fifteen minutes later I see another retard stumbling about by the marina, dressed half in men and women's clothes. "Hmm...", I think, "another one". And then just before I get to work there's yet another one wandering on the middle of the road, nearly got run down by a car, and then he starts clapping his hands really fast. Now I'm thinking that maybe somebody has let these poor buggers loose from somewhere. Just when I think I've seen the last of them, some guy comes into work and puts a shopping basket on his head and walks around the shop telling anyone and everyone that he's 'in disguise'. This other old guy must've thought I was a girl or something, he comes up from behind and puts his arm around me. What the fuck? Perverted bastard. It must be my girl curls. To top the day off, we were visited by Mad Madge. She talks. Constantly. To anyone around her, and to herself when there is no one else to talk to. Cornwall is weird. Or maybe it's just that fecking hot.

I was wondering why people always say the same old shit at people's funerals; "they loved life (I love it when people say that about people who commited suicide), they had everything to live for, everyone loved them, they were so caring and warm and bla bla bla bla bla". I think it comes down to that nobody really knew them. Think about it. What would you say at your friends funerals? What would your friends say about you (note: anyone that says I loved life and that other shit... you're ass is haunted)? The few people I care about enough to bother knowing anything about them, I know what I would say at their funerals. It wouldn't be all what anyone would want to hear, apparently people would rather hear the same old sentiments over and over again than the truth. I guess if I don't know what to say about anyone then they're not really my friend. Funerals are funny as fuck anyway. People all standing around looking sad while someone rambles on about all the fun times they had, then the awkward feeling you get when you have to stand around for another five minutes whilst the dead persons favourite song is played and then... PARTY! Hey, grandad's dead, let's get out the buffet! Woo, dips! And just as you get past the grieving a nice fat funeral bill finds its merry way to your door mat. Why all the expense to 'honour' a lump of rotting meat? And how can you die too young? You're gonna die someday, sooner or later is of no consequence. I wish I could go to my own funeral. I mean to watch, that is... of course I'll be going to my funeral. It's my funeral.

It irks me no end how people exercise 'principals' to the extreme. People constantly come into work saying they've been overcharged by like 75p. 75p? For fuck sake, what the hell are you gonna do with 75 shitting pennies? You can't even buy a bottle of Coke with 75p. I understand the principal, fair enough, and a few quid overcharge, fine and dandy. Kicking up a fuss over a few pennies is just lame, although that 75p could be put towards a medical bill that involves pulling the bugs out of these people's arses.

Chocolate spread on chips and fish fingers is sooooooo yummy. It melts and goes all gooey. I need to buy food. Proper food. All I've eaten for the last week is fish fingers and chips. Mmmm, healthy.

To end the day I'm going to sit in my windowsill and, using vodka as fuel, rediscover humanity's inert ability to fly. It can be done. Serial, it can :p Oh, wow, Mothra is still in the windowsill. He's been dead for weeks. I wonder if he will turn to dust if I touch him.

Дневной Дозор

2006-07-09T15:45:00.000+01:00

Day Watch, the sequel to Night Watch... awesome (hooray for torrents). The ending though... kinda on a par with Night Watch in that it was just very abrupt and kinda a let down. Not that it stopped the film awesomring all over the place. Maybe Bekmambetov just has a problem with endings (although, the first part of the end credits was pretty cool).

Oy, this film could probably contend with the best (or worst) when it comes to love scenes. The love scene, it was like... cheddar. If you made models of the actors out of cheddar and stop-mo'd the entire sequence and stuck it in the film, you'd never notice. It's that cheesy. Mashenka is back too (the little doll thing with spider legs). It's kinda cute. I want one.

Desser and Zavulon are the best top dog good and evil guys ever. Here they are stuck in an uneasy truce type thing probably wanting to kill each other... but they have such a friendly relationship. It's also nice to see that the internet and MSN Messenger gets used by these people who hold the balance of the world in their etc.

I don't really know what to say about the film. It was cool, Bekmambetov is definitely a director to watch, especially if he keeps directing action like this. Тымур Бекмамбетов... я люблю тебя.

...

2006-07-01T03:08:00.000+01:00

Sore eyes, sore knees, RLS, PLMS, insomnia or hypersomnia (possibly both), depressed, angry, SAD, OCD... I've fucking had enough. It's 3 in the pissing morning, I can't bloody sleep again, I've got work in 6 hours. If I try to sleep I might oversleep, if I stay up I'm going to be fucked later. All this bullshit running through my head. There's no one to talk to anymore. I'm all alone again.

I know one day this is all going to boil over in a bad, bad way. It scares me. I don't know how it's going to happen, but it will. Maybe I'll hurt someone, maybe me (not that I'd care much)... fuck knows. Thoughts of traffic and 'accidental inattention' are back again. But what's to bloody stop me? Sure, it's a dumbass way to go, it might not even work, then I'll look even more rediculous and turn into one of these 'oh, isn't life wonderful' freaks and go around with flowers in my hair screaming gouranga at anyone and everyone. Fucking... yay.

Oh fuck it. I'm going to bed. Maybe I'll get lucky and choke on a moth or something.

Beer / Shoes = Strange Little Bottlemen With Forks

2006-06-26T20:09:00.000+01:00

The sleep, it plays games with me. I thought after college kicked out for the summer I might be able to get back to some kind of 'normal' pattern, but no. If there was a whole nocturnal culture thing I wouldn't mind so much, but there just are no shops open or people to hang out with at 5 in the morning when you're still not tired. At least got to listen to the rain. So peaceful. And it hasn't rained for a while. Annoyingly, it prompts moths to seek shelter in my overly warm room. More annoying, they show my computer some love and dance with the screen, always in the middle of movies too.

Aaah, poor Mothra. Never again will I show a moth such love. At first, he flew around behind my blind, sounding like a blind elephant with wings until he realised that lions weren't chasing him, nor was he an elephant. There he perched, motionless on the blind, moving only twice to my knowledge. It loved me, it appreciated the sanctuary of my window space and so I came to love him. Now he is dead. Lying next to my lamp.

If ever I meet a knight Templar in the life hereafter, his gut will be opened and his brain starved of oxygen to the point of vegetation via the plugging of the nose and mouth with his own intestines, whereupon he shall become the Eternal Pinata. What kind of stupid idea is banking. Money in itself. I don't get it. People seem to have the idea that money is a naturally occuring thing. Of course, it's just another method of control. You need money to buy the things you need to live and your job pays barely enough to make that possible. And who decides how much money you get? The man. And they say that tax has to go up year by year to aid the repayment of national debt (they also like to tell us that it's under control). I find it strange that loan sharks get put inside for fraud, yet international financiers give countries fiat money, money that never existed in the first place, to pay back other loans of fiat money, which were taken out to pay back however many loans the country has taken out over the years. Somewhere along the line, these banking families came up with fiat money, a lisence to 'print' it... and no one stood up and said no? No one stood up and said you can't control us with this shit that puts you in total power just like that? How the fuck did that happen?

Then again, being the working class stain I am, I'm kinda lucky in a way. People say the upper class are lucky, the get everything on a plate etc. In that respect they are, but they don't know what life is. Put them in the real world and they can't function. If they were to lose it all, they'd be well fucked. Having had nothing, I appreciate what I do get, I don't let it own me. Scratch one of a rich man's 20 Rolls Royces and a small part of his 'soul' dies. I mean come on, why are you owning a fleet of cars in the first place? Scratch a poor man's car... fuck it. Just a scratch. Of course, the poor man would need a car in the first place and know how to drive it, something else the upper class seem incapable of. Why buy 20 cars you will never yourself drive? Although I never tried, and there are assholes all over the road, I think driving would be a fun thing to do. Just get out and drive someplace for the fuck of it. Also, having nothing to lose means I'd probably have to try very hard to completely fuck my life over and put myself in a really bad position. Having nothing gives me a drive to go out and get something. What I really want is to direct, I can see myself doing it and if I fuck it up somewhere I won't have lost anything. I feel a lot of the upper class are starved of creativity, something the working class has in abundance, for those who want to make something of themselves at least. I speak in generalizations, but time after time I find these generalizations and stereotypes ring true.

Things freak me out. Babies... they aren't right. Two cells that turn into a walking talking person. Trees... from like a seed into some giant massive multi-limbed thing that lives for hundreds of years. Fire... it's pretty, but what is it? There are some gigantic forces involved in keeping a building standing, so how big must the forces of like a nebula be? Birds are the latest mind trip. Out of nowhere they start freaking me out. I was just looking at a seagull and I thought why doesn't it have arms?

I was asked if I've ever been happy the other day. And it's strange, thinking back I'm not so sure. I mean I remember being a kid, I didn't feel the way I do then, but I was still at odds with everything that came my way. I don't think I was happy anymore, just blissfully ignorant of the larger world I didn't have to deal with way back when. Maybe that's why I feel so old now. It wasn't like I gradually came across things like other kids. Being blissfully ignorant and then going to secondary school you become aware of a lot of other things, and these things were the same things I chose to ignore when I was younger. The curiosity, as always, got the better of me and I exposed myself to all of it and more at once and suddenly it was blissfully ignorant to far too aware. I used to say it's a shitty world we live in, but that's not true. It's a beautiful little rock we live on. It's just the people that are ugly.

What of this little rock. I stop to ponder far too often how fast we are hurtling through the infinity of space, round and round we go with all the other planets and so many, many stars and rocks and planets and comets and asteroids and meteors and nebula and galaxies and black holes and the little bits of space junkthings that remind me even the vastness untamable depths of space won't go long untouched by the creeping, grasping, clawed hand of humanity and it's self assured sense of invulnerability. And to think, maybe once there was a universe before this one, one that crunched together under its own gravity and exploded again to form the one we now find ourselves in. How many universes could there have been? Were there any? What of the civilisations that may have existed? Their technology, politics, art, physical make up... could their souls now be floating around? The strangeness.

And these thoughts are thwarted by a throbbing pain in my knees that day after day after day remind me they are totally fucked. And they're only going to get worse. I can't even sit cross legged for too long. Millions of years of human evolution and this frail, soft cadavre is what we developed. I blame whoever discovered fire. Strange to think that the way our civilisation has developed is based on that one discovery of flamerous wood. Without that there wouldn't be metals, cooked food, guns, skyscrapers... anything really. We might even have gone extinct a long, long time ago. Probably would have been for the best.

Mmmm... Teddy. So soft and cuddly with a cute widdle tail. I wuvs Teddy.

Fun

2006-06-25T00:11:00.000+01:00

Meh. Who to chase? Will it work either way? Stupid brain, you go squish now!

Update

2006-06-24T19:30:00.000+01:00

Happy now? You know who you are...

Quick Fix

2006-06-05T22:35:00.000+01:00

Everything is getting quick fix.

Medication, online dating, marriages that come along far too early in a relationship, food, labour savers, consolidation loans...

Slow down, eh?

Stupid Dream, You Go Squish Now!

2006-06-04T15:01:00.000+01:00

So there I was, wondering alien streets congested with a medley of ethnic groups, a foreign country boy lost in the big foreign city. Traffic crawls by, horns honking, exhausts pumping out headache inducing fumes, cab drivers pumping out headache inducing shouts. Suddenly, the crowd parts, the white noise of their idle chatter fades away and there she is; my beautiful darlin' and her pretty little smile. Now I'm not so lost, the city becomes less alien. We hug.

Then I woke up. Bastard.

Jealous

2006-06-04T03:00:00.000+01:00

So unremittingly, pointlessly fucking jealous.

Etc.

2006-06-01T23:05:00.000+01:00

Et-cet-er-a, for fuck sake, not ec-set-er-a. Learn it.

Glee

2006-05-31T22:52:00.000+01:00

Woo! So Ryan just got in touch after like 8 months not hearing from him. I love Ryan, he's probably the first person since forever I could call a proper mate. So we're gonna meet up and booze out sometime soon. Woo! Glee!

That Widdle Baby Thing

2006-05-30T17:00:00.000+01:00

YESH! Baby Alex has finally come around to not being scared of me anymore. Shocker! Such a well behaved baby too, my sister is an awesome mother, I'm so proud :D I look forward to being a uncle woowoo!

I love my sister's fella's family. Exuberantly loud, out and out proletariate and look after their own. I apprciate that kinda family. I need a stereo A/V cable, they just gave me a £25 one for nothing. We wanted some whiskey, they just gave us a bottle of Teachers (ooooh, so nash). And their dog has the softest ears... I like to rub them.

Finished Dracula (at last). It's cool, but Sam was right, the ending sucked. All those guns and no fight. Even Dracula got pwned just like that. Coppola's ending for the film was much better, a wicked horse chase with lots of guns and crazy Szangy and... A DOG!

Boosh, my flatmate moves out soon and I get my new room *glee* Now I'll be able to be locked up in my room in darkness like days of yore. Mmmmm, muted lighting.

Ooh Sinnerman, where you gonna run to? *jigs*

A Small Pleasure

2006-05-27T00:26:00.000+01:00

I like it when I pull a tattered half full box if cigs out of my pocket. I don't know why. Maybe I've bonded with the pack? I just like the way it looks all knackered and ripped. Mmmm...

Them Bloody Adverts

2006-05-25T20:17:00.000+01:00

So it would seem that the world of advertising has totally lost it.

Why are animals used to sell everything? Air Wick Spray advertised by a housewife monkey with skunk kids? So skunks make smellies, but we are neither monkies or skunks. Co-op using sheep to advertise their additive free fodder. Dancing and singing sheep no less. Sheep. Buh? A trained orangutan slapping its face and making noises to illustrate the amazingness of a loan. I still don't get it. An elephant to advertise car insurance. Face: questioning. Even Churchill is a dog.

Doubleyootee'ef. Argh. Nob it.

Food shows. It's food for chrissakes, why all the passion? How can people be so overpaid for slapping together a bunch of random stuff that 'really brings out the flavour' of that other random stuff. Steak is steak, chips is chips, ice cream is ice cream. And the drum and bass soundtracks to these programmes. What's that? Hardcore party animal food, yeah, c'mon!? I like food, but I don't feel like pilling up every meal and eating it with glow sticks.

Programmes about house. Oh no, our house is a shit, let's go on TV to get it sorted it out. Why do you need to go on TV? If you aren't smart enough to be able to decorate a house, hire a friggin decorator. I don't care if you have a supermultiplexultrauberthousand kitchen with matching his and her mugs. I don't care about your spacious illuminating conservatory that 'makes the area seem larger and I think it works really well' (die Linda Barker, your toothy grin makes me want to ingest my own head anally). Your the ones living in it, why does the rest of the nation need to see where you sex each other? Sure, you can get some ideas for your own house. Or, you too could hire a friggin decorator or go that oh so 'stressful' route of doing it your own lazy self.

Aaaah, I love being grumpy. Everything is just so wrong. Rant: over.

Ick-Mesiter

2006-05-23T16:48:00.000+01:00

Lastnight I ran out Djarum Blacks (only the sweetest cigs around), so today I'm back on Marlboros. And they suck. I can't believe I smoked this shit, it stinks bad, it tastes worse and there's no lovely taste on my lips from tasty filter paper. I guess it's true what they say - once you go black, you never go back :p

I could so quit smoking right now, it would be very easy. I haven't smoked all day, I haven't had the desire to. But fuck that, Blacks are too good *orders some more*

Only 2 weeks to wait :(

Art and Pretty Stuff?

2006-05-23T02:49:00.000+01:00

Title? Iunno.

Anyway, today I read that 'what one perceives as beautiful is what one has inside them'. Taken literally, my organs are made of an abandoned power plant and a derelict bromine factory.

A bike. Doy.

Power box things.

Sam's favourite.

Stick in water.

What the fuck is bromine?

Well, that's a few of the photos I took back when... erm... when I took them. Reminds me, I have another film to drop in the devvies.

Today I smoked my last Djarum Black. Wankers. Now I have to order some more. Oh, but they're gorgeous.

A weird week. Suddenly detached from some people, suddenly quite attached to others. Hmmm... Jess makes me smile, how dare she interfere with the natural way of things. Too much oversleeping going on. Not enough work. Fucking academia. Got my title sequence finished though, I'm kinda happy with it.

Have to be up early tomorrow. Stay up all night again to make sure I don't miss stuff. Meh.

Dying

2006-05-12T20:31:00.000+01:00

So I didn't go to bed last night. Couldn't be bothered.

This morning, walking up to college, I started to hear things that weren't there. The scariest thing was a squeaky bus break that turned into a scream. I've also been seeing buttons from games floating in front of me, maybe I shouldn't play so many games.

Right now I'm dead tired. It's stupid, being tired. I hates it. I drunk 5 liters of coke just to stay awake. I wonder how many underpaid slave childs died keeping me awake...