I'm feeling really rather perplexed.
I wonder if I am really advancing in this Game of Life.
Have I grown stupider as I've grown older? Are my neurons really firing in the way that they used to, or are they limp and soggy from excess of consumption and severe under-use? Is that grey matter in my head (and also the other squishy stuff) going to waste? Could I have been much more clever and sharp than I am? Was I ever intelligent or just good at jumping through (metaphorical) hoops?
Will I ever progress to have the career I talk about, or am I just always having an over-complicated ideal of what I'd like to do, without ever having really any idea what I am, who I am, where I want to be and what I want to do? Have I done anything in my vocational life of any worth to myself or others? Consequently, will I ever do anything in my vocational life that is of worth to myself or others? More importantly, will I ever have a truly inspirational idea?
And, will I ever learn to be less critical and believe enough in myself, my qualities and what I've achieved? Will I ever be proud enough to say all this to others without feeling small, meek, mild and unimportant?
Finally, will I ever learn how to balance everything, or will I always have this feeling that my lunchbox is falling off my knees?
I am however, happy, that GNER has sent a cheque for 12 pounds reimbursement and that my socks are dry. I've also made a nice list and crossed off things that I've done, which leaves a slight feeling of empowerment.
Tuesday 13 March 2007
Sunday 18 February 2007
YES YES YES
to the Everyman Cinema Club in Hampstead. Just a short walk from the tube, you can go there and watch movies in style on sofa couches whilst quoffing vino.
Yes Yes Yes.
Click here to see for yourself:
http://www.everymancinema.com/cinemas/gallery.asp?SessionID=ED3AA5F79C06472EA1A975696669DEF6&cn=1&ci=2&ln=1&pi=17
Yes Yes Yes.
Click here to see for yourself:
http://www.everymancinema.com/cinemas/gallery.asp?SessionID=ED3AA5F79C06472EA1A975696669DEF6&cn=1&ci=2&ln=1&pi=17
Correction
I should actually say that I have been terribly un-PC by calling little people 'midgets'. I completely apologise and hereby will refer to them as people of a shorter height.
I should also say thanks to my friend Mike, who was the instigator of the showing of the people of a shorter height pornography. Mike is a teacher of British children. He has also danced in front of them in a cow suit, complete with udders. I'm very worried about this, understandably.
Anyway, thank you Mike.
I should also say thanks to my friend Mike, who was the instigator of the showing of the people of a shorter height pornography. Mike is a teacher of British children. He has also danced in front of them in a cow suit, complete with udders. I'm very worried about this, understandably.
Anyway, thank you Mike.
Booze...
is bad. I feel like today that someone has ripped my liver from my body and smashed it into a thousand pieces and then made pate from it.
Last night was Lost Vagueness. I scared small children at the Tube station with my blue hair and PVC dominatrix outfit and (unfilled) multicoloured super soaker. I also got to perform on stage with the marvellous Rude Mechanicals which was a lot of fun. It involved writhing around at the front and sucking marshmallow toes, a favourite past time of mine.
I've also found another great greasy spoon, which always makes me feel fulfilled.
Last night was Lost Vagueness. I scared small children at the Tube station with my blue hair and PVC dominatrix outfit and (unfilled) multicoloured super soaker. I also got to perform on stage with the marvellous Rude Mechanicals which was a lot of fun. It involved writhing around at the front and sucking marshmallow toes, a favourite past time of mine.
I've also found another great greasy spoon, which always makes me feel fulfilled.
Sunday 11 February 2007
I stand corrected...
God bless Soulmates.
It has delivered to me a very lovely boy indeed.
We met over midget porn, and bonded as we escaped its luridness.
He still liked me after seeing me dance madly as I was dressed up in the afore-mentioned aqua blue wig and psychedelic dress.
I keep grinning wildly at everyone and seem to be sighing and coo-ing a lot, like a contented pigeon.
Oh, Ah, Eeeeee...
It has delivered to me a very lovely boy indeed.
We met over midget porn, and bonded as we escaped its luridness.
He still liked me after seeing me dance madly as I was dressed up in the afore-mentioned aqua blue wig and psychedelic dress.
I keep grinning wildly at everyone and seem to be sighing and coo-ing a lot, like a contented pigeon.
Oh, Ah, Eeeeee...
Wednesday 7 February 2007
Desperate and Dateless.
Yes... it’s time for that rant, yes, you guessed it, internet dating!
I’m over it. I’ve completely deleted myself off the face of the earth.
Why, you ask? Why so drastic?
I just met tonight with a man almost half my height. I had thought on the phone that he did have a rather high voice. But he did seem nice, and funny, and giggly, and possibly just my type. I knew it was off to a rocky start when the first utterance from my mouth was, “Gee, you’re much shorter than you look in your photo”. Oops. Eye avoidance and the urge to laugh, cry and repeatedly beat myself in the chest for most of the night. I did have nice Pad Thai on Parkway though, I highly recommend it.
Why the internet dating in the first place?
Sick of lary, lurchy men. In bars. On the street. On the tube. Looking at you like they want it badly. More often than not, making fools of themselves as they hurtle towards you after a few too many pints of Guinness (after the obligatory crack on to most breasted fair individuals on your left and right) and breath heavily on you, spitting their Guinness and dried flakes all over you as they say “God you’re beautiful, you know you’re beautiful” (i.e. shag me now, or later, or whatever, but a shag would be good)
I was also sick of finding most people boring (sorry), or just not fancying the pants off someone until I’m breathless and giggly and completely silly. What’s happenned then is that I’ve ended up either being complacent, dull or exhibited completely bizarre behaviour during the peculiar ritual we like to call dating.
I also though I couldn’t do any worse than the first couple of men I dated when I first got to London. Why couldn’t a computer match me up with a stunning young man, with suitable interests, intellect, fine wit and of course, a penchant for a ‘bottle of red whilst staying in’?
So there I was. And now here I am.
Fancy a laugh?
Here’s my profile:
................................................................................................................................................
I'm new to this, hoping it may supercede the letchy and ludicrous conversations one may have in a public house when wankered.
About me:
I'm warm-hearted, committed and energetic, particularly when it comes down to things that are very important to me.
I love thinking, theorising, learning, engaging and participating, and generally stimulating my mind and heart.
I can be cautious, and perhaps never quite care-free, though mix this with a blend of creativity and an open-mind and you have a naturally curious nature.
I'm happiest when I'm thinking about, listening to, playing and making music.
I'm occasionally nutty but always nice. If I'm bored I usually come across as boring and/or a complete daydreamer. Don't take this personally.
Seeing little, daily interactions of a humorous nature help to keep my sense of humour and light heartedness.
I also enjoy meeting random people, decadent and unexpected adventures and giving something new a try.
Moreover, I'm the last to leave a party, the first on the dance floor, have developed a recent preference for completely impractical shoes and have been known to be a blanket thief.
................................................................................................................................................
I would fancy me if I could. (Boys, you know where to find me)
Here’s a selection of the best (highly off of me to publish my grievances. I wish I could say I have altered some details to protect the innocent, i.e. YOU, but I haven’t)
Man A – who likes campfires, detects my aura, asks if I dream in colour (577 words of it!)
Man B – who writes like I want him in my pants now (even though I’ve never laid eyes on him). As a high flying ‘executive’, he asks me to go to New York with him.
Man C – who has written (and sent) a complete essay on why the whole of the english language should be reconceptualised, he calls it his ‘filosofy’. He also sent a few pictures of himself in cobra position showing off his buffness. Both are available upon request.
Man D – Bad humour. Self deprecation. Tortured emails. Ag.
Man E – so clearly not 35. So clearly not 35. He has a nice villa in Spain though.
Man F – wrote paragraphs under headings suich as ‘Education’ and ‘Interests and Likes’. It read like a CV.
Man G – “IF I'M NOTHING LIKE WHAT YOU WANTED, WILL I STILL DO?”
Man H – He calls himself the Pantha, and said “Sweetie, just get yourself a subscription and I’ll pick up the tab”
Man I – He only writes four word sentences and looks like a thug. I cannot think of a reply and tell him he has a nice pillowcase. He is oddly encouraged by this. I think he even is spurred to write a five word sentence.
I was also offered naked photos countless times. I’m sorry lads, but it isn’t all just about the penis.
You might ask, did I enjoy anything about the experience, and what have I gained? Well, apart from mortification, sheer hysterics and occasional interest and exhilaration, it was really just business as usual. I have met two lovely men, both whom I hope to be friends with. I’ve also gained a good credit card bill (what with all the subscriptions and sushi). I’ve learnt I’ve learnt to accept that men are just as naff online as they are offline. I’ve also learnt that perhaps it’s not worth squeezing a lemon that has sat in your fridge for a few weeks (literally, and metaphorically).Thus, the moral of the story is just don’t bother with internet dating unless you want to meet dwarfs and donut-heads.
So for now, I’m back to pubs and laundromats. Buy me a drink sometime, or some washing powder, and I’m yours, baby.
I’m over it. I’ve completely deleted myself off the face of the earth.
Why, you ask? Why so drastic?
I just met tonight with a man almost half my height. I had thought on the phone that he did have a rather high voice. But he did seem nice, and funny, and giggly, and possibly just my type. I knew it was off to a rocky start when the first utterance from my mouth was, “Gee, you’re much shorter than you look in your photo”. Oops. Eye avoidance and the urge to laugh, cry and repeatedly beat myself in the chest for most of the night. I did have nice Pad Thai on Parkway though, I highly recommend it.
Why the internet dating in the first place?
Sick of lary, lurchy men. In bars. On the street. On the tube. Looking at you like they want it badly. More often than not, making fools of themselves as they hurtle towards you after a few too many pints of Guinness (after the obligatory crack on to most breasted fair individuals on your left and right) and breath heavily on you, spitting their Guinness and dried flakes all over you as they say “God you’re beautiful, you know you’re beautiful” (i.e. shag me now, or later, or whatever, but a shag would be good)
I was also sick of finding most people boring (sorry), or just not fancying the pants off someone until I’m breathless and giggly and completely silly. What’s happenned then is that I’ve ended up either being complacent, dull or exhibited completely bizarre behaviour during the peculiar ritual we like to call dating.
I also though I couldn’t do any worse than the first couple of men I dated when I first got to London. Why couldn’t a computer match me up with a stunning young man, with suitable interests, intellect, fine wit and of course, a penchant for a ‘bottle of red whilst staying in’?
So there I was. And now here I am.
Fancy a laugh?
Here’s my profile:
................................................................................................................................................
I'm new to this, hoping it may supercede the letchy and ludicrous conversations one may have in a public house when wankered.
About me:
I'm warm-hearted, committed and energetic, particularly when it comes down to things that are very important to me.
I love thinking, theorising, learning, engaging and participating, and generally stimulating my mind and heart.
I can be cautious, and perhaps never quite care-free, though mix this with a blend of creativity and an open-mind and you have a naturally curious nature.
I'm happiest when I'm thinking about, listening to, playing and making music.
I'm occasionally nutty but always nice. If I'm bored I usually come across as boring and/or a complete daydreamer. Don't take this personally.
Seeing little, daily interactions of a humorous nature help to keep my sense of humour and light heartedness.
I also enjoy meeting random people, decadent and unexpected adventures and giving something new a try.
Moreover, I'm the last to leave a party, the first on the dance floor, have developed a recent preference for completely impractical shoes and have been known to be a blanket thief.
................................................................................................................................................
I would fancy me if I could. (Boys, you know where to find me)
Here’s a selection of the best (highly off of me to publish my grievances. I wish I could say I have altered some details to protect the innocent, i.e. YOU, but I haven’t)
Man A – who likes campfires, detects my aura, asks if I dream in colour (577 words of it!)
Man B – who writes like I want him in my pants now (even though I’ve never laid eyes on him). As a high flying ‘executive’, he asks me to go to New York with him.
Man C – who has written (and sent) a complete essay on why the whole of the english language should be reconceptualised, he calls it his ‘filosofy’. He also sent a few pictures of himself in cobra position showing off his buffness. Both are available upon request.
Man D – Bad humour. Self deprecation. Tortured emails. Ag.
Man E – so clearly not 35. So clearly not 35. He has a nice villa in Spain though.
Man F – wrote paragraphs under headings suich as ‘Education’ and ‘Interests and Likes’. It read like a CV.
Man G – “IF I'M NOTHING LIKE WHAT YOU WANTED, WILL I STILL DO?”
Man H – He calls himself the Pantha, and said “Sweetie, just get yourself a subscription and I’ll pick up the tab”
Man I – He only writes four word sentences and looks like a thug. I cannot think of a reply and tell him he has a nice pillowcase. He is oddly encouraged by this. I think he even is spurred to write a five word sentence.
I was also offered naked photos countless times. I’m sorry lads, but it isn’t all just about the penis.
You might ask, did I enjoy anything about the experience, and what have I gained? Well, apart from mortification, sheer hysterics and occasional interest and exhilaration, it was really just business as usual. I have met two lovely men, both whom I hope to be friends with. I’ve also gained a good credit card bill (what with all the subscriptions and sushi). I’ve learnt I’ve learnt to accept that men are just as naff online as they are offline. I’ve also learnt that perhaps it’s not worth squeezing a lemon that has sat in your fridge for a few weeks (literally, and metaphorically).Thus, the moral of the story is just don’t bother with internet dating unless you want to meet dwarfs and donut-heads.
So for now, I’m back to pubs and laundromats. Buy me a drink sometime, or some washing powder, and I’m yours, baby.
Monday 5 February 2007
Four:
Things I loved about my weekend:
Gigging in Leicester
Cups of tea (I love them)
My first Martini experience
Almost choking to death in a sparring session which led to...
Things I hated about my weekend:
... Splitting a pair of trousers in the crotch region (x 2 pairs)
GNER ticket machines and customer service rep's. Avoid any of the two if you possibly can.
Broken washing machines
Broken boilers
Interesting things about my weekend:
being asked out on a date at my local laundromat
a p*****d irish tart at a Brick Lane curry house mouthing off loudly to her 'friends' before falling down the stairs on the way to the toilet
Unexpected visits
A quintessential scene of scraggy Terrier in a heavily wood-panelled pub falling asleep by a fake fire cranked to the max. There was something so wrong about it, yet so right.
Gigging in Leicester
Cups of tea (I love them)
My first Martini experience
Almost choking to death in a sparring session which led to...
Things I hated about my weekend:
... Splitting a pair of trousers in the crotch region (x 2 pairs)
GNER ticket machines and customer service rep's. Avoid any of the two if you possibly can.
Broken washing machines
Broken boilers
Interesting things about my weekend:
being asked out on a date at my local laundromat
a p*****d irish tart at a Brick Lane curry house mouthing off loudly to her 'friends' before falling down the stairs on the way to the toilet
Unexpected visits
A quintessential scene of scraggy Terrier in a heavily wood-panelled pub falling asleep by a fake fire cranked to the max. There was something so wrong about it, yet so right.
Today...
... I went for a lovely stroll, laughed at calves brains, ate a pastry and bought an aqua blue wig.
Fab.
Fab.
Friday 2 February 2007
Here's a little soliloquy I wrote:
Ich liebst du, applen
I am the lonely apple. Surrendered to the fruit bowl desert. How I want to be eaten. Eat me, eat me now. Squeeze me. Look, at me, I'm glowing in my waxy goodness. My Juicy goodness. Sometimes I hear you say -
"Sometimes I like apples. Sometimes I don't. Apple pie I could eat endlessly".
Oh yes, I'd be your apple pie. How we could change the world together. My pulpy, warm mess mashed in your mouth. Yes, du monde. My soft white flesh (if not, so plainly dressed).
Perched ever so carefully, ever so watchingly, in my empty bowl. This bowl, how it used to be filled with so much promise. So full of fruit, so full of bursting goodness. I once had a friend for a banana. But no, you just squeezed its dry, incumbent flesh, and left me here, all alone and glowing. (Waiting for you, yes, waiting for you. I'll be here. My shiny apple goodness.)
I sing a duet with the teacup. The teacup hears my song, and comes along. But the teacup is ceramic and inedible. It's incredible, that we don't belong together, the teacup and I. Yes, we live in different worlds, the teacup and I. You drink from its lips, but I could never be a cup to thee. Oh how I wish you would crunch my apple goodness.
I'd grow soft for you, if I could. Soft in my fruity fleshiness. You laugh, but it is the promise I make to you. The loveliness of my sin. Eat me, eat me now. How I want to be eaten. Look, at me, I'm glowing in my waxy goodness. Full of promise.
But I'm no banana. You left me in the kitchen, all alone; in my world there's silence, bar the hum of the fridge, and my ill-fitted teacup friend; left in my fruity goodness. Here I stare at you as you slurp your cups of tea, and wait.
Ich liebst du, applen
I am the lonely apple. Surrendered to the fruit bowl desert. How I want to be eaten. Eat me, eat me now. Squeeze me. Look, at me, I'm glowing in my waxy goodness. My Juicy goodness. Sometimes I hear you say -
"Sometimes I like apples. Sometimes I don't. Apple pie I could eat endlessly".
Oh yes, I'd be your apple pie. How we could change the world together. My pulpy, warm mess mashed in your mouth. Yes, du monde. My soft white flesh (if not, so plainly dressed).
Perched ever so carefully, ever so watchingly, in my empty bowl. This bowl, how it used to be filled with so much promise. So full of fruit, so full of bursting goodness. I once had a friend for a banana. But no, you just squeezed its dry, incumbent flesh, and left me here, all alone and glowing. (Waiting for you, yes, waiting for you. I'll be here. My shiny apple goodness.)
I sing a duet with the teacup. The teacup hears my song, and comes along. But the teacup is ceramic and inedible. It's incredible, that we don't belong together, the teacup and I. Yes, we live in different worlds, the teacup and I. You drink from its lips, but I could never be a cup to thee. Oh how I wish you would crunch my apple goodness.
I'd grow soft for you, if I could. Soft in my fruity fleshiness. You laugh, but it is the promise I make to you. The loveliness of my sin. Eat me, eat me now. How I want to be eaten. Look, at me, I'm glowing in my waxy goodness. Full of promise.
But I'm no banana. You left me in the kitchen, all alone; in my world there's silence, bar the hum of the fridge, and my ill-fitted teacup friend; left in my fruity goodness. Here I stare at you as you slurp your cups of tea, and wait.
Introduction and Allegro
Ah, so I've finally done it.
I've joined at the backend of something decidely cool and uncool.
I have a blog! Finally!
Now I can terrorise the www society at large by my mainly unfounded, confounded, unsubstantiated and ignorant views on the world. (Please note, British police: I am not a terrorist, just in case, you know I might actually get shot for using the terrorist word) hahaha.
Who am I?
Well, hopefully if you are bothering to even look at this page, you will be known to me, and I onto you. But in case you need a description, I am a ... well actually I can't be bothered, I have better things to rave and rant on about. (I will be suprised if I actually remember how to get back to this blog site to unleash more banalities upon www. Ah, my friend, www, how I love thee)
Rant 1:
Anyway, today on the BBC there was finally an acknowledgement that there is a consensus that there is a problem of global warming and that we will have to do something about it. Ha! Einstein! Pure genius! It only took about forty years!
editors note: I am currently being a scum on the Earth and have about three times the carbon footprint that I should have. I know, I did a test. The computer said so.
And, you might ask, what am I going to do about it?
Probably, in typical human nature, forget about it for 60% of the time (well, one does have to sleep, and sleep, don't they?)
I plan to:
learn more (and put into action) about how I can stop doing bad things and start doing good things.
terrorise (Ha! That word again!) everyone that I know into doing good things and not bad things.
(It's all in my 2007 manifesto, I'll have you know)
I've even started manically and maniacally turning off everything at the switch when I'm not using it, and ripping out plastic windows of envelopes like there's no tomorrow.
The council has received several very polite letters from me asking them nicely why they don't recycle plastic, amongst other things. I received a very polite response, which said, ever so nicely, that they were going to and they didn't quite have the right resources (=money, incentive) to put it into place just yet.
(Hang on, maybe they want to wait until we live in a stinking cess pool of our own waste)
Next on the list for letters, in a rather ad hoc sporadic way, is Unilever, supermarkets, and those stupid people that won't fix the leaks in the Thames water supply. Never mind that parts of Britain are faced with severe drought by 2050.
Enough on that, for the moment.
Rave 1:
I want to say how fantastic two organisations are: Music in Prisons and Save the Children.
Today I went to prison, I quite enjoyed it. It involved a trip to the South West, Zone 6, ever so exciting and simultaneously dismal. It was at a Youth offenders institute, and 8 'young people' (correct terminology, I'm told) working with 3 facilitators put on a 45' show. Most of the songs were bloody brilliant. Nice one.
http://www.musicinprisons.org.uk/
I also went to see Save the Children as I've finally got the time to put my money where my mouth is and contribute to the voluntary sector. I'm going to be calling schools and getting them involved in a project called School Links and the annual Friendship Day, where little British kiddies get to learn about kids all over the world, and their school experiences. I'm quite excited about working there.
http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/
In fact, life is absoultely fantastic!
Rant 2:
Internet dating... enough said (for the moment)
Rave 2:
Nancy's vegetable stew. Absolutely superb. Thanks, Nancy.
Anyway, too-roo
x
PS: If anyone that is bothering to read this can tell me how to add pictures and hyperlinks, I'd be ever so grateful...
*mwa-mwa*
I've joined at the backend of something decidely cool and uncool.
I have a blog! Finally!
Now I can terrorise the www society at large by my mainly unfounded, confounded, unsubstantiated and ignorant views on the world. (Please note, British police: I am not a terrorist, just in case, you know I might actually get shot for using the terrorist word) hahaha.
Who am I?
Well, hopefully if you are bothering to even look at this page, you will be known to me, and I onto you. But in case you need a description, I am a ... well actually I can't be bothered, I have better things to rave and rant on about. (I will be suprised if I actually remember how to get back to this blog site to unleash more banalities upon www. Ah, my friend, www, how I love thee)
Rant 1:
Anyway, today on the BBC there was finally an acknowledgement that there is a consensus that there is a problem of global warming and that we will have to do something about it. Ha! Einstein! Pure genius! It only took about forty years!
editors note: I am currently being a scum on the Earth and have about three times the carbon footprint that I should have. I know, I did a test. The computer said so.
And, you might ask, what am I going to do about it?
Probably, in typical human nature, forget about it for 60% of the time (well, one does have to sleep, and sleep, don't they?)
I plan to:
learn more (and put into action) about how I can stop doing bad things and start doing good things.
terrorise (Ha! That word again!) everyone that I know into doing good things and not bad things.
(It's all in my 2007 manifesto, I'll have you know)
I've even started manically and maniacally turning off everything at the switch when I'm not using it, and ripping out plastic windows of envelopes like there's no tomorrow.
The council has received several very polite letters from me asking them nicely why they don't recycle plastic, amongst other things. I received a very polite response, which said, ever so nicely, that they were going to and they didn't quite have the right resources (=money, incentive) to put it into place just yet.
(Hang on, maybe they want to wait until we live in a stinking cess pool of our own waste)
Next on the list for letters, in a rather ad hoc sporadic way, is Unilever, supermarkets, and those stupid people that won't fix the leaks in the Thames water supply. Never mind that parts of Britain are faced with severe drought by 2050.
Enough on that, for the moment.
Rave 1:
I want to say how fantastic two organisations are: Music in Prisons and Save the Children.
Today I went to prison, I quite enjoyed it. It involved a trip to the South West, Zone 6, ever so exciting and simultaneously dismal. It was at a Youth offenders institute, and 8 'young people' (correct terminology, I'm told) working with 3 facilitators put on a 45' show. Most of the songs were bloody brilliant. Nice one.
http://www.musicinprisons.org.uk/
I also went to see Save the Children as I've finally got the time to put my money where my mouth is and contribute to the voluntary sector. I'm going to be calling schools and getting them involved in a project called School Links and the annual Friendship Day, where little British kiddies get to learn about kids all over the world, and their school experiences. I'm quite excited about working there.
http://www.savethechildren.org.uk/
In fact, life is absoultely fantastic!
Rant 2:
Internet dating... enough said (for the moment)
Rave 2:
Nancy's vegetable stew. Absolutely superb. Thanks, Nancy.
Anyway, too-roo
x
PS: If anyone that is bothering to read this can tell me how to add pictures and hyperlinks, I'd be ever so grateful...
*mwa-mwa*
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