Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Thursday, 26 November 2009
10,000 words in a week.
I felt like i hit my stride this week.
I need to write about another 14-18k and then the first draft will be done.
I feel like crying.
I have finished part 2.
There are 3 parts or rather, there will be 3 parts.
I think that the book might actually be OK.
It has definitely come a long way.
I recommend trying to write a book to everyone.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Friday, 30 October 2009
Welcome to the members area of the site. Pretty soon you will be eligible to earn real money completing surveys for our clients. Our clients value the opinions of ordinary hard working human beings like you. The first step is to complete one of the introductory surveys you will find below and send us the results so that we can build up a picture of which demographic group you belong to. It should take no longer than 5 – 40 minutes depending on the survey you take and your reading ability and length of your answers. Please select a survey to take:
Products that you use
Important events in your life
Sports and lesiure
Politics and power
Important Events in your life.
Please answer the following questions as honestly as possible. If you do not answer honestly you will not be eligible for any money.
When did you leave school? - Over five years ago.
Why did you leave school? - To be a salesman and make a lot of money selling tubes.
Do you have a job? - Yes I sell tubes.
Have you moved away from home? - Yes
Why did you choose to move away from home? - I found living with my parents difficult and wanted my independence.
Have you ever had a life threatening injury/disease? - No, although I fell out of a swing when I was young which was quite close to a road.
Are you currently suffering from a terminal disease/Do you expect to die soon? - No!
Does anyone in your family have any life threatening diseases? - My daughter is a tube.
Do you have any grandchildren? - No
When are you going to get pregnant? - N/A
Please do not answer any questions with N/A, our clients need full answers that truly reflect your personality and needs. Please answer again.
When are you going to get pregnant – Never, I am a man.
Please do not answer any questions with Never, we don't know what is going to happen in life. Please answer again.
When are you going to get pregnant? - As soon as possible.
What is the achievement in your life of which you are most proud? - Never taking drugs.
Have you ever been the victim of Hurricane Katrina? - Indirectly. When that many people die, the whole world suffers.
Have you ever been the victim of any other generic natural disasters? - Minor earthquake which I didn't notice was going on but in the morning a tree had fallen on my car.
Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be in a coma and thought that maybe being in a coma wouldn't be so bad? - No
Do you often think about comas? - No
Have you ever thought about the best way to induce a coma? - No
Have you ever wondered about the mental experiences of someone who is in a coma? - Yes
Have you ever thought that your whole life is your own dream and that you are in a coma? - No
How do you think time is perceived whilst in a coma? - Slowly I suppose.
Do you have any children? - Yes, one girl, tube shape, indeterminate age.
Thank you for completing the survey. You are not eligible for any future surveys and have earned no money. Your account will be deleted shortly.
Friday, 23 October 2009
Monday, 19 October 2009
my screen has a physical connection to my mind. my screen is a single glowing panel. it creates light, or rather it converts electrical energy into luminescence.
i am watching luminescent patterns appear on my screen. lumen is an ancient word for light. light was the same a thousand years ago although it didn't often come from a screen.
thousands of years ago people had different jobs to the jobs that we do today. i think i would have been a gladiator thousands of years ago. i watch the light on my screen change in reaction to the movements of my fingers.
my fingers want to hold a sword and stab animals and get covered in blood. i want to wipe animals blood over my face and shout.
i am happy manipulating a keyboard and watching the light change on my screen.
Wednesday, 23 September 2009
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
Friday, 14 August 2009
Thursday, 13 August 2009
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
i want to cry.
i arrive at the barber shop and i wait for a while and then i sit in the chair. the barber starts to look at my hair. he is making a face. he touches my hair with his hands and then recoils with a look of disgust on his face.
he lets out a noise 'aeurgh'.
he lets out his voice 'who cut this last mate?'
i say 'no one'
he says 'what do you mean?'
i say 'just cut it' - i am not very good at talking to people
he says 'i'm not doing it unless you pay me £50'
i say ok
I HAVE BEEN MONETISED
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Thursday, 9 July 2009
pretty steamy stuff.
this is the kind of life that we all wish we could lead and also we all want to be famous and have lovely slender arms and legs. let's all excite each other.
Tuesday, 7 July 2009
the snail has retracted into his shell and has not come out for 10 minutes.
like so many before it, the disagreement that lead to this situation had been created because of a woman.
she likes me - i am sure of it. what has the snail got that i don't have? she can't like him. i might be in love with her.
the snail is still not moving and it's getting late. but i am not going to back down over this.
the snail comes out of his shell and casually slimes off of the table.
i think i might have been staring at the wrong snail.
it was definitely the wrong snail.
i feel so stupid.
four hours in the future i am going to catch the snail having sex with her and crush him in a fit of jealous passion.
2 months later i will be in prison.
good bye life.
Sunday, 5 July 2009
all that is around is a whining scream and disappointment.
i am sitting on a wet, slick and rotting tree stump. there is a square of earth around the rotting tree stump: around that is asphalt. my legs dangle and bounce on and off the tree stump.
the tree stump is in my primary school playground. the tree stump is a tombstone.
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
there is a difference in the air
i am older and not quite the same
you have somehow remained constant and mathematical
a crumb of tender thought falls from your lips to your lap
the modern lives we lead have powdered your tenderness
the modern lives we lead have dessicated our joy
we need moisture.
the full stop means that is the end of the poem. the word poem and porn are dangerously close together on a modern plastic keyboard. that is not a clever insinuation. how can i describe in words the patterns of colour in my mind?
red and blue and grrrrrrrrrrreen
i am lying on my bed and looking straight up into heaven. you should see it. i looks like candy floss. you have come over to talk about things. i don't want to talk about things i just want to look straight up into heaven through the clouds and into all of the people that have died.
you tap me on the head with the small hammer of a judge and suddenly everything seems opaque and not real.
Thursday, 28 May 2009
'why did you keep me waiting?'
i curl up into a ball and sit on the table in front of my boss while i cry. i feel as though my whole life is a series of mistakes.
my master gently massages my back and tells me that he cares for me and that i am a good worker. he tells me that everyone has troubles sometimes and that i am really ok. he tells me that things aren't that bad.
my boss has chalk on his hands and he traces patterns onto my shoulders. i sob enigmatically. i am a clockwork creature.
my boss lays a row of sweets on the floor which lead into a box. i melt down onto the floor and hoover up the sweets with my mouth while my boss rides me like a surf board. i arrive in the box that has much shredded newspaper.
i live in the box for two months.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
everything i do is measured and beautiful.
i stop people dead in their tracks with the elegance and beauty and economy of every sentence that i speak/write.
a woman passed out once because of the sophisticated way i said 'good morning'.
i am a voiced plosive.
Saturday, 2 May 2009
the novel is called 'everything's fine'.
it will never be released.
do not try and rescue my novel.
i am also working on another 'secret thing'.
please do not try and ask about my secret thing.
if you find out about the secret thing, please do not tell anyone about the secret thing.
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Now I've been eating pizza,
For such a long time,
And my favourite topping,
Is the humble Peppanpine.
The richest cheese,
Peppers to please,
Pineapple why thankyou not squeezed,
Pepperoni a delicious tease,
On a Peppanpine Pizza.
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Monday, 20 April 2009
Monday, 6 April 2009
panic panic panic panic
panic panic panic panic panic
panic panic panic panic panic
panic panic panic panic panic
panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic panic
panic panic panic panic panic
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
Monday, 30 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
the man shrugs his shoulders and puts on a mask. the mask is like the face of a beetle. the man hisses with powerful anger. the beetle on the man's foot hisses with powerful anger.
the man is the father of the beetle . he is scuttling around on his belly, scuffing his clothes and dirtying his face.
ding dong door bell. no more make believe for the man, his delivery is here. he scuttles to the door and slowly pulls himself up to maximum height. it looks like his head is being pulled upwards by a silver thread.
his dinner is there.
a plate of chicken and pies.
the food turns into a mass of maggots in front of his eyes.
Tuesday, 24 March 2009
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
The feeling is something that we have created together, because of the things we have been talking about. The feeling makes a noise like white noise. It is like the noise that you hear when you are very still and there is no noise. Someone has taken that noise and amplified it until it is very large and round and fills the space between us.
We sit opposite each other.
I stare at your face and you stare at mine. There is a mania between us.
I look at your face and do not recognise it. There are patches of white and shade on your face. They correspond to the shape of your face in the context of the light in the room. When you blink shadows and tears fall down your face.
Your lips move and you blink and I see that you are very very sad. You give away your emotions in the shape of the features of your face. I marvel at the way in which your features all work together so nicely. I notice that you are sad and it has an effect on me. The sadness that you feel directly alters my mood.
There is a breeze. It moves your hair slightly and makes me cold.
I want to scream and thrash around and then leave. I want you to look at me and shout at me. I want to break something over my head and cut the skin on my face.
I am lying in my bed imagining these things. I think that I am not OK. I think that I am definitely not quite fine.
I go down to the kitchen and pour out one kilogram of salt onto the surface of the kitchen unit. I find the knife that I use to slice up the salt and I slice up the salt into equal sections. I still feel the rush of adrenaline as I slice through the salt with my knife.
Twenty minutes after I have sliced the salt, 500 snails throw themselves onto it and fizzle to death.
Monday, 16 March 2009
I am sweating and wretched. I have nearly sweated all of the moisture out of my body. I feel a red vibration all around me. The walls are humming with a crimson vibration.
I have no strength left. I am starting to enjoy feeling this way. I have no control over anything any more and I feel liberated.
I feel like my parchment skin is about to catch aflame. I am covered with corrugated iron and my insides are asbestos. The most terrible things are happening to me. Oh. An incoming call. "Good afternoon I am dying." "I am trapped in a small room." "Can you somehow help me" "I think there are some ants in here with me." "My skin is falling off."
I need the toilet so I let myself out of the room for a minute.
I let myself back into the room. I curl up slowly and rotate into nothingness.
Thursday, 12 March 2009
Thursday, 5 March 2009
I am imagining sailing away on a silver moon beam. I am imagining sliding on a moonbeam while standing serenly on one leg all the way to the centre of the sun.
What strange human relationships will I experience on my journey into the centre of the sun? I will meet professionals and vagrants, mothers and young children, introverts and racconteurs. Each human relationship will have no meaning, but a singular texture.
I see that the lines on my face and hands increase in severity as I approach the sun.
I feel as though I am a scientific phenomena. I glace at my heads up display. Systems nominal. Speed = 1,000,000 Mph.
This reminds me of a trip to toramelinos. Or benidorm. But less exotic.
Oh. I have arrived at the centre of the sun. Oh, God lives here!
After my trip to the sun I sit, tired, on my sofa. What a day out!
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
you can own your very own blog for just £50,000.
please help me to live my life for just £50,000.
Good Things about This Blog:
1. Have fun changing the picture now and then.
2. Have the chance to write funny things, sad things and pretty things.
3. Average between 3-7 comments per post.
4. Get around 30-60 unique visits a day.
5. Have the fun of constantly checking the blog to see if there are any new comments.
6. Be a loser.
Ok so anyone who wants it - just £50,000.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
Running water and thick mud. Snails and woodlice. Making a fire and roasting sticks on the fire. Making things from leaves. Not feeling alone. Being a part of nature being apart from nature.
Someone can come and lift you bodily out of the mud and place you in the field next to your house or the road next to your house and you can play with them and jump over a rope or kick a ball and be a part of the physical universe.
Children are part of the physical universe. I am a part of the non physical universe. My body is made into a paste and my mind is under nourished. Everyone gets old and is no longer part of the physical universe. Athletes are not part of the physical universe.
No one who is a grown up loves the physical universe.
Monday, 2 March 2009
I think that if I could lie down and be looked after I would be ok. I don't really want to be a burden on anyone else. I wonder what the images inside my mind would be like if I was in a coma.
Perhaps there wouldn't be any images inside my head. Perhaps the most tragic and upsetting images from the entirety of my life would play on a loop in my head.
I would not like to be in a coma if the most tragic and upsetting images from the entirety of my life played on a loop. It would be like I wasn't in a coma which is the not the point of me being in a coma.
I am trying to think of the best and most simple way to get into a coma. Perhaps the best way is to somehow asphyxiate myself to a certain degree. I don't think that I can bring myself to do this. I don't think that I really want to do anything bad to myself.
I think I just like the idea of being totally seperate from everything else that isn't me. I want to scream out as loudly as possible in a room that is totally isolated from everyone else. I would like to have a safe and controlled way to remove the mundane thoughts from my mind. I think that many thoughts are all mundane.
My social interactions are often not quite as excellent as I would like to be. I think that people often will keep going for a while until they understand me a bit better and then I am ok. But I don't think that people should have to do that. It seems unfair. It seems to be a burden.
I don't think that this is going anywhere. I don't know whether this is the correct place. My heart is not beating with an electronic rhythm. The circuit boards inside me are meshing with the organic matter again. Tendons are copulating with batteries and birthing an odd creature. My brain is covered in tin foil.
I am self-obsessed. I feel guilty for writing here.
Chris Killen famous author and magnificent man-child with huge muscles, has written a review of it.
Here is that review.
If you send an e-mail to Crispin he will maybe do another print run. Everyone should e-mail crispin regardless of whether they want a copy of the book or not. Crispin is lonely and slips into patterns of self-hating behaviour if people don't e-mail him.
I give you permission to e-mail crispin.
Friday, 27 February 2009
The rest of me feels great - descending. I am looking through the ventian blinds onto on odd scene. There are twelve people auditioning to be my british best friend.
They have the bodies of sexy women but have my bosses face. Oh dear it is so hard to choose which one is my favourite british best friend. They all tell me that they are real and not fake.
There is a tube to my left that is being gripped by my hand. If I pull it down it will release the ants.
I release the ants.
The ants eat the british best friends. I am safe behind the venetian blinds.
There is a small protest group forming amongst the viscera of my british best friends. They all hold up cards that say 'murder is murder'. They are screaming at me.
I release the ants.
There is a list of things that are not true and i am going through them with my ants and eradicating them. I am eradicating fallacy. I am so angry about ignorance. The ants are resonating.
Don't ignore ants.
They are crawling over my wrist.
Sunday, 22 February 2009
you know? little david?
let's meet him.
this is the incredible thing i was involved in.
i made it with good old chris.
we are both very proud, like parents. like lovely and proud parents.
david is our suckling baby.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
I am chatting to the body next to me - we are two by two - like animals into the ark. I can't turn my head because of the spike that is in my head.
"So, what are you here for?"
"Well - it's a long story."
"I accidentally launched a baby."
This is the first time I have spoken to someone who isn't my boss for a long time.
A raven swoops down onto my stomach and looks at me. He has a moustache and is singing a happy song.
You are my one true love/
You make me smile/
Would you give me your love/
As I defile/
I am suddenly reminded of the rest of my life except for this psychotic episode. I am trapped in the toilet at work, crying. Sobs are erupting from me.
I am crying because I have finally had an emotional response to the treatment I receive at my work place. I will do something about it.
I keep thinking to myself that it is my own fault. I am crying and eating crisps. I am eating salt and vinegar crisps. They have a melancholic flavour. It is a very big bag of crisps - my tears are making them into a mush.
Thoughts of revolution and quiet rebellion surge inside of me. Freedom and fun can be mine - I can be human again. I can feel things in the normal way. I can achieve all of this very shortly.
I rub the vinegar mush into my face.
When I return to the office I am asked why I have taken such a long time.
I say that I fell into some crisps and it hurt my eyes.
I sit down at my pod and join the bodies on the way to the incinerator.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
Monday, 16 February 2009
Friday, 13 February 2009
sitting on my sofa feeling lost
getting fatter and fatter every day
thinking about the time someone came up to me and got me worried
not asking anything of anyone
totally all over it like a rash, tell me what to do and i will achieve it i don't know why no one takes me seriously take me seriously i cannot sustain the level of quality over a long period of time that i can display over a short period of time what is the point in any of this what is the point i am losing my sense of irony and buying into a load of crap gowgnw
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Looking over my shoulder.
I am talking.
I am looking at the clock.
I am nervous and bored.
There is a knot in my stomach.
My boss is hovering over my head.
He is a vampire.
He has a special hard on.
It will suck my blood out.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
I am thinking about my ambitions and other potentially exciting things. I do not think that I have a plan that will let me realise my ambitions. The man lying next to me turns towards me. It is not a man, it is a demon.
"Come on pal, sort your self out."
The demon dissapears. He is replaced by a phone. I dial myself through the phone lines and end up somewhere else. I am an electronic communication, stretching outwards and finding other pulses of light.
I think that I am going to short-circuit myself. I think that I am having a malfunction. I am a mixture of flesh and light.
Friday, 6 February 2009
Throw all of your money into the toilet straight away. Shove it in and look away.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
I want to feel confident at all times.
I want to have a full and confident life.
I want to see far off lands and distant, forgotten peoples.
I want to have misty and mysterious surroundings.
I want to have plans.
I want to not squabble and make a fool of myself.
I want to be a pleasure to be around.
I want to develop a thick and ropey torso.
I want to do exercises to make my bottom the talk of the town.
I want chicken and pies to carry on forever.
I want to have ideas all of the time that delight people.
I want to be an honest and good man.
I want to be as funny and entertaining as I think I am.
I want to have a romance that continues to be fulfilling and passionate.
I want to make some money so that I can live a wonderful life.
I want to ensure that if I have children they are proud of me.
I want my parents to be proud of me.
I want to not be disgusting.
I want to look at the things I have collected in my life and think 'that's nice'.
I want to create something that everyone thinks is great.
I want to not worry about medical problems.
I want to understand things.
I want to go to bed at a reasonable time.
I want to have some control over my finances.
I want to have some control over my gut.
I want to eat forever.
I want to sleep in a comfortable and clean bed.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Trust me, this book is well worth having. It is absolutely incredible. I am seriously excited about it. I think Crispin is going to do some sewing on it or something.
If you are scared of e-mailing Crispn I suppose you can e-mail me (email@example.com).
Monday, 26 January 2009
My foot is stuck in something. It is an unusually large piece of chewing gum.
I lift my leg up with all of my might. My foot is still attached to the floor. I use my hand to move the chewing gum. It is too strong for me to break. I try and take the gum off my hand with my other hand. The gum is now stuck to both of my hands.
The gum is now stuck to every part of my body.
I am trapped in a huge mass of unusually sticky and strong and flexible gum.
I slowly am forced into a crouching position by the powerful elastic tension of the gum. I think that if someone were looking at me they might think that I am an unusually large coccoon.
I start to eat my way out. When I emerge I think that I might be a new creature. When I emerge I think that I will be absolutely fine. When I emerge my guts will be bunged up with sticking and twice chewed gum.
I am so god damned cool.
I think back on my life.
I have not had a good life.
Time to be quiet.
Sunday, 25 January 2009
My boss has been fired. I feel like the only possible thing that can make my life any better now is if my plant wasn't slowing dying.
My plant has been slowly dying ever since I bought it.
I am trying to become more responsible and I think that looking after a plant is a fantastic way to do this. My plant has a human face that smiles at me.
I am going to bed later and later and later. I find it so hard to sleep because I don't want to sleep. If I fall asleep then the next day is nearly here. Every day is a terrible day. I watch videos of animals fighting each other and then feel guilty.
I never think about sexual things. I feel as though the part of my mind concerned with sexual things has been somehow deactivated. I feel as though the part of my mind concerned with sexual things has been taken away from me and replaced with a part of someone else's brain who likes to eat burritos.
Being a girl for a while might want me to eat less burritos. Trying to be a physical creature instead of a brain floating in gelatinous human fat would make me want to eat less burritos. I want to consume everything in the world. I feel totally happy when I am consuming everything that I see.
I think about trying to be a tough guy. I don't think I can do it. My boredom not force me to do something incredible.
The stars are drawing in and shining powerfully into my eyes,
I turn from one side to the other full of disgust as the stars,
Burn a gap into my head where my brain was,
I collapse with no brain into a drooling heap,
Powered by the rays of the stars that I love.
Friday, 23 January 2009
Sunday, 18 January 2009
1. Post a link to another piece of writing you have completed on a new and special website that shows your readers that you have a real and exciting life aside from the words which are on your blog.
2. Post a link to a new and exciting song which will motivate and excite everyone who reads this blog.
3. Write a list of your own favourite blog posts on your blog which maybe some newer readers haven't had the time to go back and read but that you think are quite nice relative to the rest of the posts on your blog.
4. Post the first chapter of the novel that you are writing that is inspired by the blog that you have written for over a year.
Shirt, tie, shoes and jacket. A clean face. I am called into my supervisor's office. It is my monthly assessment and the room is getting hot. Or rather the room is hot, and I am getting hot. I am made of carbon which is made in the life cycle of a star. The carbon in me is getting hot in this pokey room with a plant in the corner. The door closes behind my supervisor and he takes a seat which faces me. His face is at the same height as mine but somehow I feel like he is higher up than me. There is a shiny rectangular box on the table in front of my boss. He starts to talk to me about my performance over the last month. My performance has not been good over the last month. Not good at all. My performance last month has been bad.
"Your performance this last month has been bad. Do you have your targets and actuals?"
I bring out my targets and actuals from the last month. My boss looks at the page.
"I'm going to mark each section of these targets that you have under-performed in with this red ink."
My boss brings out a pot of red paint and pours it over the sheet of paper. I do not look directly at my bosses face in case he tries to bite me. I look at his left eye for a second and then look back down at the wholly red piece of paper.
"How does this make you feel?"
"Sort of, sick?"
"How do you think it makes me feel?"
"Does it make you feel good?" I hope this is the right answer.
"It makes me feel superior to you. How much money do you earn now?"
"£5.60 per hour."
"I earn £5.60 per second. You are totally shit at your job. You are a weakling. Do you think that's fair?" I think this is a trick question.
"Maybe." I answer, cleverly. I can't really tell how well the assessment is going. Nothing particularly bad has happened so far. The clock on the wall shows that one minute has passed since the start of the assessment. Assessments normally last five hours.
"Do you like lovely chocolate cake?" This is a terrifying question.
"I suppose so."
My boss take out a piece of sponge cake from the black box on the table in front of him. The cake looks very delicious.
"This cake is made with butter, sugar and flour. I made it last night - I love to bake, I find it relaxing. I love smashing up butter in a pot and pouring loads of sugar and flour all over it. I like doing it when I'm naked. Sometimes I get a hard on and fuck the cake mix. I fucked this cake mix last night. Do you want to eat my sex cake?"
I really don't want to eat it. My boss is a foul looking man, fat and heavily eyebrowed. I imagine that his cock probably has diseases.
"You are the cake," He says to me. "Say I am the cake or I will fire you."
"Say I am the cake right now or I will fire you."
"I am the cake."
"Now keep saying it while I do my business."
I keep saying "I am the cake." My boss stands on the table and faces away from me and the cake. He is just facing away from me. He pulls down his trousers and underwear. He crouches down. I hear a noise from his mouth. "I am the cake." He shits on me. The cake is covered in shit.
"Now eat yourself." He says.
This assessment is not going badly, all things considered. I look at the crumbly spongy cake all covered in the shit of my boss. I really feel as though I am probably going to eat the cake. Can he make me eat this cake? I think about my boss. When I first met him I really thought that we were going to get on. I suppose that when we aren't in the assessment room we do get on; He is complementary about my work and he has a great wit to him. For a man of relatively young age he has achieved a great deal, I try and learn as much as I can from him about the tube business.
I first decided to get into tubes when I was much younger, five years ago it was. I remember it clearly - I was looking at a tube and thought to myself 'tubes are incredibly beautiful'. They have a perfect round integrity as well as myriad practical applications. We would be pretty stuck without tubes. Even though I had a genuine appreciation for the form and function of my chosen obsession I didn't realise that there was a multi pound industry built around the manufacture and distribution of tubes of varying colour and smell.
Every tube has it's own smell. That's not really true I suppose. In fact it's rubbish, tubes smell of whatever they have inside them. Tubes full of effluent stink of shit and tubes full of sperm reek of spunk. Shit and spunk.
"Why aren't you eating your cake? Why do you hate yourself? Ian, are you listening to me?"
"Yes, I just. I really don't want. I've. Well, I've never eaten shit before."
"I understand. Up until now you are not doing very well I am afraid. Sidney was much better than you. He started a month after you here didn't he? How does it make you feel to know that he has over taken you?"
"It makes me feel like I have less talent than him." It's hard to keep talking without gagging; The smell is overpowering in the hot, small room.
"At least you have some amount of self awareness. What we need in this company is people who put their own happiness and satisfaction on the back burner and concentrate all of their focus on stuffing loads of money into the pot. The big pot that gets shared between the people at the top. "
"I think I can do that."
My boss with a swiping motion smacks the shit covered cake off the table and into the wall where it sticks for a second before smearing down slowly.
"You are a waster Ian. A waster." My boss is bellowing at me, his face is red. "You waste everyone's time, you waste my breath, you are a waste of the office stationery budget." I try my hardest not to react to this but I can feel that my top lip is just shaking slightly.
"I think that there is only one thing that I can do to try and make you understand what we expect from you at this office Ian. We have, over the years pioneered a therapy at this company which we only mete out to the very worst workers."
I am starting to feel rather raw. It's difficult not to think about my boss peeling all of the skin off my head. I think about him ripping all of my hair out and then wrenching muscles and tendons away from my face. I picture myself as a bloody skull, which my boss is licking with his tongue, which is black. The end of the tongue stiffens and he rams it through my skull, making a hole in my head.
"How would you like to be a father?" He is carefully asking me questions.
"I don't want to be a father."
"This is your son now Ian." My boss reaches under the table and pulls out a standard grey tube. Ten inches long, two inches across. "You are going to have to look after this for the next two weeks." A terrible thought breaks into my mind. "What do you want to call it?"
"I don't mind. Can't I just call it Tube."
"No, you have to give it a real name, like Mildred."
"OK, I'll call it Mildred" My boss seems to relax a little bit, his face sort of slackens. He holds the tube up to my face and points to one of the ends of it.
"This is Mildred's mouth. This," he points to the other end, " is Mildred's arse. You have to feed her three times a day through her mouth. Don't put food in her arse, she doesn't like it. This symbolises your dependency to the company. Whenever you meet anyone you have to get Mildred out and say, 'This is my beautiful baby, Mildred. This is to make you empathise with the embarrassment the company feels whenever you do anything that is below standards, which in your case is everything." I need to interrupt my Boss to ask him a question.
"Do I have to"
"The therapy is going to last for two weeks, unless I say otherwise. Remember, dependency and humiliation are the main emotions that you feel. And that is how you should feel working for us, it gets you into the right mindset. Eventually you'll start to feel seriously inadequate as a father, which is how you should feel as a worker." I can't stop thinking about the terrible thought I had earlier. Poor Mildred. "Now put Mildred away. The written part of the assessment starts next."
5. Say thankyou to everyone who reads your blog and assure them that knowing that people read what you write makes you feel like a wonderful success.
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
P.S The next post will be my 100th post on Chicken and Pies. It has been a long hard, tedious, boring, monotonous, painful, awful, life destroying process. Prepare to be dazzled.
Friday, 9 January 2009
You can read the story here.
I don't know why I am doing this.
I think that my penis is shrinking while the rest of my body is getting fatter. It is as though the front part of my body is folding into my penis which is like a black hole. But somehow I am getting larger. Even though I am folding up into my penis.
My penis has a very large mass. A section of my penis the size of an ant weighs as much as fifteen Empire State Buildings.
My penis is so heavy that light cannot escape from it. Nothing can escape from it. I cannot escape from it.