1. what's the point?
2. is it ok to not be fine?
3. do i need to carry on forever?
4. how long for toast?
5. give me an idea of how to live.
Please answer these questions.
Monday, 30 March 2009
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
oh woe
the small beetle is crawling over the foot of the man.
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.
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
tonight
is the night of 'there's no point in not being friends with someone if you want to be friends with them'.
crispin is coming up from london and staying at my house.
i am going to give him one million kisses.
crispin is coming up from london and staying at my house.
i am going to give him one million kisses.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
powerful resonance
I am talking to you. There is a feeling.
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.
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.
i am on twitter now.
i am starting a new religion.
it is the only true religion.
please join us. we are the 'Harmonic Wanderers.'
i am starting a new religion.
it is the only true religion.
please join us. we are the 'Harmonic Wanderers.'
Monday, 16 March 2009
intolerable heat and feverish hallucination
I am sitting in a small dark room and I am very very very hot. The heat is entering the room from the walls. It is radiating inwards and heating me. I have arranged four fans around me blasting me. They are blasting dry and hot air at me.
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.
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
Short Film Competition
Would you like to enter a short film competition?
Do you live in Manchester?
If the answer is yes to both of these probing questions please send me an e-mail or comment on this post.
P.S I am floating on a cloud of terror.
Do you live in Manchester?
If the answer is yes to both of these probing questions please send me an e-mail or comment on this post.
P.S I am floating on a cloud of terror.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
self improvement
I am standing very still on one leg in the middle of my room and there is a calming and beautiful music wafting through the air. The music is Enya.
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!
Fancy that!
After my trip to the sun I sit, tired, on my sofa. What a day out!
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!
Fancy that!
After my trip to the sun I sit, tired, on my sofa. What a day out!
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
business deal
does anyone want to buy the username and password to my blog for £50,000?
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.
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.
outdoorsman
Just going for a lovely walk somewhere.
Going to go and cut down trees to make a fire.
There are no trees in manchester.
The place is like a grave.
The only colour is grey.
There is a metal tree in manchester.
A metal tree.
Are you joking?
Going to go and cut down trees to make a fire.
There are no trees in manchester.
The place is like a grave.
The only colour is grey.
There is a metal tree in manchester.
A metal tree.
Are you joking?
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
and come here
There is a river somewhere near the place you grew up which always reminds you of memories of your father and siblings. Even if those memories are very difficult to make into something certain, they exist on the fringes of your awareness, lurking.
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.
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
The date is irrelevant
Is it OK to want to be in a Coma?
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.
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.
Men has been unleashed
People have been receiving their Men Books. I did the illustrations for it. I think that anyone who likes the stupid rubbish that I write will love the stupid rubbish that Crispin writes.
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.
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
A twisting tumble into despair
My life has become more and more strange. I feel increasingly detached, almost totally detached. Maybe a small part of my wrist is still attached.
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.
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
i am david
everyone knows david, right?
you know? little david?
no?
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.
you know? little david?
no?
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
Sensational
My body is floating in a long line of bodies on the way to the incinerator.
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."
"What happened?"
"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.
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."
"What happened?"
"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
Something very special
I am involved in the creation of something very very very special.
Trust me.
This is going to be very very very special.
I hope you are excited.
Trust me.
This is going to be very very very special.
I hope you are excited.
Friday, 13 February 2009
I am
a writer who doesn't write anything
sitting on my sofa feeling lost
getting fatter and fatter every day
not capable
thinking about the time someone came up to me and got me worried
repellant
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
sitting on my sofa feeling lost
getting fatter and fatter every day
not capable
thinking about the time someone came up to me and got me worried
repellant
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
Grinding
Tap tap clicking tap tap button.
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.
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
New and Exciting Project
Ever wanted to be in charge of your own destiny?
Visit my new blog, Choose your own adventure.
I think that I am quite excited about it. It is interactive. Please join in and make it a success.
Visit my new blog, Choose your own adventure.
I think that I am quite excited about it. It is interactive. Please join in and make it a success.
Electronic feedback mistake.
I am looking upwards from my bed out of the roof window. I can see the stretching beauty of the heavens. I am a small and insignificant extension of humanity. I am very important and life size. I am larger than life size.
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.
"Hi Pal."
"Hi Demon."
"Come on pal, sort your self out."
"Sorry."
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.
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.
"Hi Pal."
"Hi Demon."
"Come on pal, sort your self out."
"Sorry."
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
Shove huge wads of cash into the shit-bowl. Make an ISA of your U-Bend. Grab your cheque book and baste it in your effluent. Attack the porcelain with coins and notes.
Throw all of your money into the toilet straight away. Shove it in and look away.
Throw all of your money into the toilet straight away. Shove it in and look away.
Maybe you have seen this?
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
I want to be a very brave little soldier.
I want to happilly live somewhere that is nice and well looked after.
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.
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
MEN
I have inadvertently created another Chap Book. It it called MEN. Crispin created the words and I have drawn some very special pictures for it. If you would like to find out how to get a copy please go to here.
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.
My god.
If you are scared of e-mailing Crispn I suppose you can e-mail me (socratesadams@gmail.com).
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.
My god.
If you are scared of e-mailing Crispn I suppose you can e-mail me (socratesadams@gmail.com).
Monday, 26 January 2009
Sticky Lattice
Just walking down the street, nothing odd going on to make me feel odd. One foot in front of the other I have a great technique.
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.
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.
Reflection
I can see the man that I am reflected a hundred thousand times in mirrors behind and in front of me. My flaws are reflected for ever. I am humble with my head bowed and my back broken.
I think back on my life.
I have not had a good life.
Time to be quiet.
I think back on my life.
I have not had a good life.
Time to be quiet.
Sunday, 25 January 2009
A Disastrous and Unavoidable Event
All of the most wonderful and life affirming words that I can think of are pouring into my mind from every possible side.
Fantastic
Beautiful
Excitement
Comfortable
Hope
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.
Fantastic
Beautiful
Excitement
Comfortable
Hope
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
Little Gentle Film
Sunday, 18 January 2009
100th Post
Congratulations! You have reached your 100th post on Chicken and Pies. This is a very exciting and momentous occasion! You have a number of options which could make your 100th post extra special and exciting for everyone who reads this blog.
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.
Chapter 1
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."
I hesitate.
"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"
"Shut up."
"Sorry."
"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.
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.
Chapter 1
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."
I hesitate.
"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"
"Shut up."
"Sorry."
"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
Tender personal video
Please watch this affecting and emotional film. Please leave comments about how affected you were. Please enjoy our video.
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.
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
Late night special.
I am lying awake and my computer has taken me to a page that has made me excited. I have read a very nice story about a man who has an itchy big toe. The big toe is seriously itchy. It is a comforting, nice and lovely story that has a happy and beautiful ending and also a very informative and emotionally intelligent middle as well as a start that is full of promise.
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.
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.
The Lady
I have been approved at www.hivemagazine.co.uk
I have posted my first story there. It is called The Lady.
You can read it here.
I have posted my first story there. It is called The Lady.
You can read it here.
Monday, 5 January 2009
Moderate
A quiet and dark room with a glow in it and me in it in the glow in it glowing. A thought of blood and vampires. A small and scuttling shuffle. A realisaition; I do not know what I am doing. A flapping and impotent man. I am not worried. I am powerful. I am not a youngling of a vampire I am not a real vampire, I am not vamping out, I am not pulling pranks on older ladies. Everything is fine. If I just keep writing then it will be good I think. There is a burning and scary flame inside me. I think it is because I ate a RICH SZECHUAN GRAVY with some freshly made pasta. The pasta is like JAMIE OLIVER'S PASTA. Today I am going to put a small child inside a small white cube and see if it grows into a meat cube. I will not tell the police, they will not find out. The child won't know any different so it is TECHNICALLY not a bad thing to do. I think that it is ok. My eyes hurt.
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Remix
A recent song I made with Chris Killen has been remixed by Crispin Best.
I would love it if you listened to it. But hurry! Only 100 downloads allowed and I have already downloaded it, so that's 99 left at the most.
It is very catchy!
I would love it if you listened to it. But hurry! Only 100 downloads allowed and I have already downloaded it, so that's 99 left at the most.
It is very catchy!
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Happy Shandy for Andy
Myself and my friend christopher killing have created a new masterpiece.
You can hear this rare and seductive beauty right here.
Happy new year.
P.S I find myself increasingly proud of this. It makes me smile every day.
You can hear this rare and seductive beauty right here.
Happy new year.
P.S I find myself increasingly proud of this. It makes me smile every day.
New Years Eve Treat
I made this video with Emma a while ago. I just watched it again and it made me laugh.
I hope you like it.
I hope you like it.
Monday, 29 December 2008
CHOO CHOO CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHUGGA CHOO CHOO
I am on a train. The train is full of loud and rude people who are squeezed together so that some of their skin is touching. I am sitting next to an angry and fat man who is touching my skin with his skin.
I can feel the bulge of his flesh beneath his skin against the bulge of my flesh beneath my skin. Our skins are getting acquainted.
There is a conductor on the train who is sweeping up and down very quickly saying tickets tickets any new tickets give me your ticket I need a ticket from you stop hiding in the toilet give me a ticket. The train is moving very fast through the country cutting its way very quickly.
The landscape is a dreadful blur. There is a man selling hot coffee from a trolley he is going past loudly and hissing and steaming all over the place. There are crisps and exciting snacks bursting out from his trolley waiting to be crunched away by snapping angry commuter's teeth.
A baby that is crying and crying carries on crying until its mother hits it on the head with her hand so that it stops crying. She is pumping it full of drugs to stop it crying.
An older man is sneezing his pus and infections all over his wife who thinks he is talking and says sorry dear what was that while his mobile phone rings a naval tune and he answers it screaming FUCK OFF.
Three grey suited businessmen laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh and I hate them. They are talking about Eric and how he is banned from trains because he is always farting.
The man next to me is looking at me and making an odd noise.
The man's face looks like a condom stuffed with minced meat.
The man is touching his chest where his nipple might be.
I am in some kind of hell.
Saturday, 27 December 2008
Toil
I have written my 1500 word story for the hive magazine and sent it to the man who asked for it in the first place.
It is a story called "The Lady"
Here are some teaser taster sections for everyone to love and cherish forever.
"I am sitting at my pod.
I have been in work sitting at my pod for fifteen minutes.
I think I have wet myself."
And also -
"The beautiful lady. The wonderful boss lady. The lady that makes me feel special and happy.
It is a story called "The Lady"
Here are some teaser taster sections for everyone to love and cherish forever.
"I am sitting at my pod.
I have been in work sitting at my pod for fifteen minutes.
I think I have wet myself."
And also -
"The beautiful lady. The wonderful boss lady. The lady that makes me feel special and happy.
She is looking at me with a look like she wants to give me a sweet kiss.
She opens her wonderful mouth.
"HENRY YOU PIECE OF SHIT" She says."
It is pretty weird. I wonder whether it will be OK?
Wednesday, 24 December 2008
I have been tagged
Sam Pink has tagged me. This means that I have to write seven things about myself and then nominate 7 seven to do the same thing.
1. I am on a train.
2. A hair fell out of my arm and landed on my laptop computer. It looks bad.
3. I don't know how long I am going to survive.
4. I live in Manchester.
5. I always have breakfast.
6. I am from Bath originally.
7. When I was growing up some bigger boys threw me into nettle bushes because my name was/is Socrates.
OK. So I have to tag seven people now. This is going to be fiddly.
1. Jenn Ashworth
2. Sally Cook
3. Jarvis Cocker
4. LVB
5. Judy Roo
6. Frank Morgan
7. DELETED DUE TO PORN WATCHERS ATTACKING MY BLOG
You should look at these people's blogs. Some of them are not real. If you can spot which ones are not real you will win 5 no prizes.
1. I am on a train.
2. A hair fell out of my arm and landed on my laptop computer. It looks bad.
3. I don't know how long I am going to survive.
4. I live in Manchester.
5. I always have breakfast.
6. I am from Bath originally.
7. When I was growing up some bigger boys threw me into nettle bushes because my name was/is Socrates.
OK. So I have to tag seven people now. This is going to be fiddly.
1. Jenn Ashworth
2. Sally Cook
3. Jarvis Cocker
4. LVB
5. Judy Roo
6. Frank Morgan
7. DELETED DUE TO PORN WATCHERS ATTACKING MY BLOG
You should look at these people's blogs. Some of them are not real. If you can spot which ones are not real you will win 5 no prizes.
Tuesday, 23 December 2008
I am Reading and Laughing at This Tonight
http://nopointinnotbeingfriends.blogspot.com/
It is going to be "Oh such fun"
Hap-py christmas.
P.S no one in America has let me know whether the chap book has arrived which makes me worry. What if I didn't put enough postage on them? What if chap books aren't allowed in America?
It is going to be "Oh such fun"
Hap-py christmas.
P.S no one in America has let me know whether the chap book has arrived which makes me worry. What if I didn't put enough postage on them? What if chap books aren't allowed in America?
Friday, 19 December 2008
Emergency.
The autumn sun has made the trees look old and sad. They seem to be good natured. The old trees are carefully watching me as I make my way between them, winding. I hear, every few seconds, the song of a bird that is lodging in the branches of the kindly and sad trees up above. I am not self centered.
Every sunday now this routine. No holidays or workdays, just a simple little sunday stroll with no one else. The main thing to do is to just have a lovely relax. Just let yourself sweetly relax and feel like a little piece of dew on a flower.
There is no trouble going on. There is no city and no people and nothing at all that I don't like. Quiet and alone and full of thoughts. There is no Gok Wan going mad around here. There are no phone in competitions. Is this a death? I think I can feel a hearbeat but it might not be mine.
I am going to carry on thinking about whether I might be dead.
Every sunday now this routine. No holidays or workdays, just a simple little sunday stroll with no one else. The main thing to do is to just have a lovely relax. Just let yourself sweetly relax and feel like a little piece of dew on a flower.
There is no trouble going on. There is no city and no people and nothing at all that I don't like. Quiet and alone and full of thoughts. There is no Gok Wan going mad around here. There are no phone in competitions. Is this a death? I think I can feel a hearbeat but it might not be mine.
I am going to carry on thinking about whether I might be dead.
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