Even if you wanted to turn and hide you couldn't, but you don't want to do that, you just can't help but stare because that's what you've been trained to do and you don't have the discipline to untrain yourself from these ready-made paths of thought that they lead you down put your hand in your pocket why don't you and when you get home turn that tv on and sit in front of it while you wait for someone to call you and make the emptiness seem acceptable. If you extract my brain you'll find it's as complete as yours and if you compare my soul you'll find an extra bit of growth that yours lacks, it grew out of necessity and absence and tried to be the part that yours found elsewhere, the part that gives you that sunny air.
The words are only coming out wrong because the world has been destroyed by stupidity and it is relentless inexhorable exhaustible far from adorable abhorrent stupid stuff, you swallow it whole. When I read over those pretty words of naive stupidity, the meaning is clear, and the meaning is rubbish, but if I ever read over these words of twisted nonsense I'll struggle to understand what on earth was falling out of my fingers and why it fell in that peculiar way, I've had such a particular day which saw me sitting in a lecture theatre full of perfumed ladies and educated gents, old patrons and young upstarts, silly tarts dressed in leather and confusing 'prodigious' with 'prolific' in the final show of complete stupidity dressed up as intellectualism GET OUT OF MY WAY but thanks for showing us the show at least you know talent from tripe even if you don't know what the words mean.
The words were harassment back then but they are now nothing but embarrassment, and look at the nonsense I have to tolerate in return. If pretty pictures are flashed on the screen before me and the grotesque is what we find intriguing, then what was the problem anyway? One day a database will spew this crap out just as fast as the server can transform the nonsense into nuisance. Nonsensefallsoutofapachewebserveralldaylonglikeyougiveafuck. The words were so lovely that the writer was forgotten and the words were all that was treasured, so the writer threw the treasure into a trove and drowned himself while everyone else frolicked so happily, plucking words and pulling birds out of the database... get fucked and go to space I hate this place.
Spice Bun in the meantime, hun.
Tuesday, 20 May 2008
Sunday, 18 May 2008
unedited shite #348
SMILE! (it might never happen)
SMILE! (jesus loves you)
SMILE! (it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile)
bollox bollox bollox I SHOUT IN RETURN, even if I did get my capitalisation muddled, who are you anyway, you cynical whore? Words that mean so little that they should be annotated and edited and then annotated and edited again until some semblance of conformity has been imposed on them. WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO with my evening when I've spent the evening housechoring while others did something less boring with someone they find more interesting than anyone else in the whole wide worldwide web? There is nothing left but to mess up a blank page and hope that somebody notices the wonderful clean odour in the same way that they notice my wonderfully bright jumpers and intellectual sparkle.
If I say that word again, I'll have said it too many times. Who reads it anyway? Even if you read all of these words they'll fly right through you like radio waves and cosmic radiation, they don't come structured like a gnossienne or a gymnopedie but I wish they did sometimes. Such music can touch me so that I feel my soul pulling on my tear glands, and it's a strange feeling and one that I can't grasp.
After the mad dutch woman finished giving me her immediate impressions of Maria's well thought-out expressions, I was left wondering if there was indeed any sense in what she had said, and then everything became even more confused when the question was posed:
"Do you think she still has sex, at her age?"
And I had no idea what to say think or do but I laughed all the way to the next exhibition.
Words fall out of my fingers all day long, and you don't give a fuck: you'll just watch them fall.
SMILE! (jesus loves you)
SMILE! (it takes more muscles to frown than it does to smile)
bollox bollox bollox I SHOUT IN RETURN, even if I did get my capitalisation muddled, who are you anyway, you cynical whore? Words that mean so little that they should be annotated and edited and then annotated and edited again until some semblance of conformity has been imposed on them. WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO with my evening when I've spent the evening housechoring while others did something less boring with someone they find more interesting than anyone else in the whole wide worldwide web? There is nothing left but to mess up a blank page and hope that somebody notices the wonderful clean odour in the same way that they notice my wonderfully bright jumpers and intellectual sparkle.
If I say that word again, I'll have said it too many times. Who reads it anyway? Even if you read all of these words they'll fly right through you like radio waves and cosmic radiation, they don't come structured like a gnossienne or a gymnopedie but I wish they did sometimes. Such music can touch me so that I feel my soul pulling on my tear glands, and it's a strange feeling and one that I can't grasp.
After the mad dutch woman finished giving me her immediate impressions of Maria's well thought-out expressions, I was left wondering if there was indeed any sense in what she had said, and then everything became even more confused when the question was posed:
"Do you think she still has sex, at her age?"
And I had no idea what to say think or do but I laughed all the way to the next exhibition.
Words fall out of my fingers all day long, and you don't give a fuck: you'll just watch them fall.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
What am I su-posed 2 dae?
What is ne1 su-posed 2 day when 4am comes and the eyelids are open before breakfast is even ready? Get chocolate weetabix minis and cover them in chocolate milk before your body even knows it's not yet breakfast time, and feel like you're having a midnight feast shortly before dawn and not much later after midnight. If Nelly Furtado could hear that tune, she'd go nuts.
For the sake of random writing I disconnect the part of my mind that focuses on threads and let my fingers wander around the fragments of sentences that jostle around in my head. Ever seen a broken mirror? That's an image that will stick with me forever, and I will spend forever trying to dodge the obvious connotations and seek far deeper-reaching objective correlatives when I drop words onto screens and into your minds.
This is unmoderated and unedited, unlike everything else, this is half-baked like an Asda doughnut that you think you might like until you realise that it's not at all good, but then you argue with other people who think it's divine. Loneliness is cleanliness, and clean living throws light on all the parts of the body and mind that had previously been forgotten.
6 am has come, and I can now rise and shine more brightly, Brighton is my destination and Europe is still my playground. nonsense nonsense nonsense likeugiveafuck.
For the sake of random writing I disconnect the part of my mind that focuses on threads and let my fingers wander around the fragments of sentences that jostle around in my head. Ever seen a broken mirror? That's an image that will stick with me forever, and I will spend forever trying to dodge the obvious connotations and seek far deeper-reaching objective correlatives when I drop words onto screens and into your minds.
This is unmoderated and unedited, unlike everything else, this is half-baked like an Asda doughnut that you think you might like until you realise that it's not at all good, but then you argue with other people who think it's divine. Loneliness is cleanliness, and clean living throws light on all the parts of the body and mind that had previously been forgotten.
6 am has come, and I can now rise and shine more brightly, Brighton is my destination and Europe is still my playground. nonsense nonsense nonsense likeugiveafuck.
Saturday, 19 April 2008
Surreeling from the fx of newfoundlands of emotions
Two weeks without a drink or a smoke and I'm beyond reality, so far that if you examine the syntacticality of this made up story that you won't even follow the first thought, let alone the middle 8 sentences of infinite madnuts. 8 sentences I mean the sentence of 8 weeks; 6 weeks is a long time and 8 is infinity, my sentential obsequies for reasonable sense and words now follow.
My opening is beyond belief but please believe it if you want to see it then step right up and I'll show you, I went to the bar and at first they thought it was a hoax, but by the time I found my flow both my minder and I were in no doubt of the severity of the laughter that was on its way. J2O is my juice, and if you're celebrating a birthday and fortunate enough to have found yourself a pub full of the mentally ill and the physically afflicted then you're also keen to escape the occasion and glance at the insanity while it stares back behind you and wonders just how the years have failed to take their toll on you.
Pointlessness defined is continuing to babble incoherently in the hope that eventually the pieces fall into place and hang together like a coin pusher, the drug pusher has no chance any more because the thread snapped and not even the sky looks real: WHAT IS THAT IN THE AIR? This isn't stream of consciousness, before you try to pigeonhole it, the whole collection of flying emotions has everything to do with the cold at 5am this morning and nothing to do with ignoring my minder, who is now mindful of the fact that I only bought a thin laptop to make my lap look fatter.
When I find a way to double-post, your poster boys will fall and your poster bed will collapse, you'll find you can untie yourself too, this isn't a relapse, it's a new way to relax and you're yet to grasp such basic facts, so I write a crass rhyme to bring music to your ears and help you forget what your deeper feelings struggle to comprehend.
- - - - -
|economics|
Deficit may lead to consumption if there is domestic investment.
Excess on current acount: consumption for future generations.
Deficits often associated with international competitiveness.
|end of economics|
{meaning?}
you forget about desire, and then a moment may come when you suddenly remember it, and you spring into action.
{really?}
__________________________
P O EM E T R I CITY
(ahem)
_______________
Plosives appeal like rosies
Brangdabblish and uff
Trewpaz kadum yo
Restolutivisionism brakered hard
Nonsense NONSENSE nonsense
Likeyougiveafuck?
___________________________
*If you blinked as prettily as your eyelashes suggested you could, then the happiness would flow*
My opening is beyond belief but please believe it if you want to see it then step right up and I'll show you, I went to the bar and at first they thought it was a hoax, but by the time I found my flow both my minder and I were in no doubt of the severity of the laughter that was on its way. J2O is my juice, and if you're celebrating a birthday and fortunate enough to have found yourself a pub full of the mentally ill and the physically afflicted then you're also keen to escape the occasion and glance at the insanity while it stares back behind you and wonders just how the years have failed to take their toll on you.
Pointlessness defined is continuing to babble incoherently in the hope that eventually the pieces fall into place and hang together like a coin pusher, the drug pusher has no chance any more because the thread snapped and not even the sky looks real: WHAT IS THAT IN THE AIR? This isn't stream of consciousness, before you try to pigeonhole it, the whole collection of flying emotions has everything to do with the cold at 5am this morning and nothing to do with ignoring my minder, who is now mindful of the fact that I only bought a thin laptop to make my lap look fatter.
When I find a way to double-post, your poster boys will fall and your poster bed will collapse, you'll find you can untie yourself too, this isn't a relapse, it's a new way to relax and you're yet to grasp such basic facts, so I write a crass rhyme to bring music to your ears and help you forget what your deeper feelings struggle to comprehend.
- - - - -
|economics|
Deficit may lead to consumption if there is domestic investment.
Excess on current acount: consumption for future generations.
Deficits often associated with international competitiveness.
|end of economics|
{meaning?}
you forget about desire, and then a moment may come when you suddenly remember it, and you spring into action.
{really?}
__________________________
P O EM E T R I CITY
(ahem)
_______________
Plosives appeal like rosies
Brangdabblish and uff
Trewpaz kadum yo
Restolutivisionism brakered hard
Nonsense NONSENSE nonsense
Likeyougiveafuck?
___________________________
*If you blinked as prettily as your eyelashes suggested you could, then the happiness would flow*
Sunday, 23 March 2008
strange laughter productions
accidents on my keyboard, but what's happening on the keyboard being played by Akira Rabelais? I bought one of his albums, and I've had the giggles while listening to it, though not because I've been focusing on the music. I've been looking at funny pictures. Maybe these made me laugh more, but maybe the music primed me for the laughter?
The album is a bit experimental, as in: I didn't quite follow the first few tracks, but it's very pleasant, very sparse at times, it grabs your attention. But it's not the kind of thing you could listen to outside of the home.
1737 and it's the time I'm talking about, not the year! I have an Easter Sunday to use.
sprs keybrd strkes r tmpting me to shrtn wrds, bcase u undrstnd neway!
The album is a bit experimental, as in: I didn't quite follow the first few tracks, but it's very pleasant, very sparse at times, it grabs your attention. But it's not the kind of thing you could listen to outside of the home.
1737 and it's the time I'm talking about, not the year! I have an Easter Sunday to use.
sprs keybrd strkes r tmpting me to shrtn wrds, bcase u undrstnd neway!
Wednesday, 12 September 2007
How I miss Myspace
I miss Myspace and I miss the excitement that it used to bring. Facebook is the ultimate messaging tool, but it's just so conservative that I don't feel like I can even communicate with people sometimes.
And it's also a let-down, because it doesn't actually have much content, given the number of users. Some people post hilarious shit, but most people don't do anything other than add applications.
Anyway...
I filled in a survey for Rinse FM this evening. And then set about downloading a load of old shows. I need a PC with a USB 2.0 port. This isn't even funny. No sooner do I start earning money, than I have to spend it all on mad shit, like a new PC (just for the USB port), or new glasses (just so I can continue to look like a geek), or new clothes (so I can look smart at work). It's all bullshit. All I really want is a new phone. If I can hold out another 2 years, I won't need to buy a new PC - I'll have everything I need on my phone....
- - - - -
I made a potato and olive flan tonight. I spent a long time mooching around Sainsbury's in search of flan bases. Then collared some workers in the nicest possible manner. I'm so damn polite and entertaining, that these people actually like helping me. Witnessing me explain my life and ask for help is clearly quite an entertaining thing.
Anyway, the staff at the Colliers Wood Sainsbury's (one of the largest supermarkets in Europe, according to Wikipedia) are exceptionally friendly. The checkout staff are wonderful. And, so far, I don't think anyone of wholly British origin has dealt with me. I think there's something in that. Yes, I'm saying that ethnicity is what makes Britain lovely.
Words are falling out of my fingers here and I don't even know what I'm writing. My head is jumping around all over the place this evening. It's like 3 Chains of Gold, by Prince. That tune just goes everywhere. It's insanely good. I'm listening to it for the second time tonight.
And that's where this blog ends.
I don't think I swore once.
And it's also a let-down, because it doesn't actually have much content, given the number of users. Some people post hilarious shit, but most people don't do anything other than add applications.
Anyway...
I filled in a survey for Rinse FM this evening. And then set about downloading a load of old shows. I need a PC with a USB 2.0 port. This isn't even funny. No sooner do I start earning money, than I have to spend it all on mad shit, like a new PC (just for the USB port), or new glasses (just so I can continue to look like a geek), or new clothes (so I can look smart at work). It's all bullshit. All I really want is a new phone. If I can hold out another 2 years, I won't need to buy a new PC - I'll have everything I need on my phone....
- - - - -
I made a potato and olive flan tonight. I spent a long time mooching around Sainsbury's in search of flan bases. Then collared some workers in the nicest possible manner. I'm so damn polite and entertaining, that these people actually like helping me. Witnessing me explain my life and ask for help is clearly quite an entertaining thing.
Anyway, the staff at the Colliers Wood Sainsbury's (one of the largest supermarkets in Europe, according to Wikipedia) are exceptionally friendly. The checkout staff are wonderful. And, so far, I don't think anyone of wholly British origin has dealt with me. I think there's something in that. Yes, I'm saying that ethnicity is what makes Britain lovely.
Words are falling out of my fingers here and I don't even know what I'm writing. My head is jumping around all over the place this evening. It's like 3 Chains of Gold, by Prince. That tune just goes everywhere. It's insanely good. I'm listening to it for the second time tonight.
And that's where this blog ends.
I don't think I swore once.
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
I can feel a spark of anger
I really can. I went to the gym this evening, and it got my blood flowing and my muscles stressed. So now I'm in one of those moods.
Oh, one of those moods...
Several ideas hit me as I was taking the rubbish out, but I can't remember any of them now. At least one of them was very good.
- - - - - -
I came home to find an empty pan on a lit stove. It was making one hell of a stink, and the pan was getting very ruined. Who the hell could put a pan of water on the stove, and then forget all about it?
I needed the bathroom, but I was beaten to it by a young Lithuanian lady, who clearly needed a bath more than a paying tenant needed a shower after the gym, and a play with his toothbrush before going to bed.
While stretching off at the gym today, I realised that, other than education, I rarely stick with anything for more than a year.
So today I announced that I'd be moving out. I have a new job. I might as well find a new place to live as well...
- - - - -
I read two articles about facebook today, and saw at least three. Well, anyway, it's the hot topic, isn't it?!
- - - - -
I really can't say anything more, because the only things I have to tell tonight are sad thoughts.
Oh, one of those moods...
Several ideas hit me as I was taking the rubbish out, but I can't remember any of them now. At least one of them was very good.
- - - - - -
I came home to find an empty pan on a lit stove. It was making one hell of a stink, and the pan was getting very ruined. Who the hell could put a pan of water on the stove, and then forget all about it?
I needed the bathroom, but I was beaten to it by a young Lithuanian lady, who clearly needed a bath more than a paying tenant needed a shower after the gym, and a play with his toothbrush before going to bed.
While stretching off at the gym today, I realised that, other than education, I rarely stick with anything for more than a year.
So today I announced that I'd be moving out. I have a new job. I might as well find a new place to live as well...
- - - - -
I read two articles about facebook today, and saw at least three. Well, anyway, it's the hot topic, isn't it?!
- - - - -
I really can't say anything more, because the only things I have to tell tonight are sad thoughts.
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