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Earlier today, between about the hours of 1.30 till
So why would I stop up so late to watch an election some 8000 miles away? What great difference does it make who is president? And what makes me care?
Quite simply, very few people who read the news semi-regularly will have been able to not read about the
So the first black president comes to office, with promises, yet so little history in the field, winning a landslide victory of seats so proposals are easier to push through congress.
I am becoming very much accustomed (or so I think-haha!) to the pressure of the third year. I am doing work on time and meeting deadlines for most things, and I am keeping apace of the homework which needs to be done for tight deadlines. Next week I have to submit my Creative Writing Portfolio to the tutors of my group for analysis. But because I am doing a piece that fits under the troublesome category of new media, I am worried quite honestly that perhaps none of the tutors (as they don’t seem to be experts in this field) may have difficulty marking it.
I assumed this is a slight turnaround of mine on the education system; in my youth, lessons were compulsory, and teachers seemed to make life hard for me. Although my present tutors by no means deserve the trouble of marking my work, as they’re all good people, it’s my little bite back on the system as a whole.
Aside from that rebellion tendancy, and the semi-realistic amounts I’m thinking of pushing the boundaries in other subjects, I’m doing well, as already said. I’m organised to the point where I already have all the work done needed to be done for the next week, which is good because Delanwy’s coming down again, for which I’m glad.
We are still getting along quite famously, but I worry about her job. She works at a call centre and far too much, thirty seven hours a week one week, and about forty three the next. They bully her also into doing overtime and the stress of it is starting to show I think; She is grumpy and at work for sometimes ten hours a day! So she’s having a break, and coming up here to chillax, and spend time with me, for which I’m quite glad!
There is a lot of work to do this last year. Each module feels much like its own course, and the amount of self-directed-study we have to do is approaching the 85% mark for sure! Most lessons are also hinting at a “logbook journal” of all thoughts and research done throughout the final year, which can be requested if necessary. To this end I will start up a new blog, especially to keep track of all my notes and research, and reports from lessons.
Whilst progress on this blog has stalled for a little while (write ups are coming later), i have started a more professional blog for my university work on this third and final year. It will contain lesson reports and research and homework. It will effectively be my paper and pens for this year, and also be accessable than blank paper and pens are in the library.
The link?:
http://cdy3.blogspot.com
More later, but now, my last lesson of the week!
All went well. I need not have been concerned, although I still maintain I was right to do so. Worrying too much is better than seeming not to care! We stayed in Friday night, letting her get used to Leicester (and my flat mates), then did the proper thing and went out to Fan Club on Saturday. They have done the place up and added several rooms to it! No longer is it just the seedy initial dance floor it once was. Now, there are several more rooms and bars. A good place I must say!
Sunday was a rushed day. We had an hour to get to dmu campus, print out a bus ticket for Del, and get her to the same bus in time to go home (she is back at work tomorrow). We managed it, but I was worrying most of the way. Like I said, worrying too much is better than too little!
Delanwy is coming up! She has already set off today and will be arriving in
Yesterday was the grand bar-crawl of bar-crawls, the DMU fresher’s funky penguin bar crawl. I was going to have to try and wing it. Unlike other events where all you need is a ticket, for this you needed a t-shirt, which guaranteed free entry into the 6 or seven clubs visited before heading on to the inevitable Liquid.
However my dilemma began when t-shirts sold out. In fact, my dilemma actually began a good time after they had sold out, so I was left without. It looked very much like I wouldn’t be able to go, I had money, but no t-shirt. And then I had the brilliant of brilliant ideas.
There are several distinct colors of t-shirts for the bar-crawl, probably with about 300 t-shirts of each colour and five or six colours in all. Each group sets off on the barcrawl at 30 minute intervals, to prevent overcrowding. Given that a group of friends will want to be together, they will naturally all buy the same colour t-shirt. By fortuitous chance, I actually went on the same bar-crawl last year (and the first year too!), and had, by virtue, saved my t-shirt all year, and a few other peoples besides.
Whereas the colours of the t-shirts vary, the logo printed on each rarely does. So I took a chance on tarnished honour, or a good night out. It was a chance I would not be regretting! I was denied entry nowhere, and saved myself the £8 t-shirt cost as well.
At last a chance to get out and about with the university crew again! Tonight’s destination was LIFE. A trendy new bar in
The mood was fouled early on, by the smell of puke from a small area between bar and dancefloor, and for a good hour the place smelled really bad. Eventually some bright spark got the idea of cleaning or covering up the area for the rest of the night.
As normally happens, I indirectly bumped into a fair few people I know, many of whom were surprised at my now quite prominent facial hair. Indeed one of my creative writing friends became quite convince I’m am the devil! However he obviously has an attraction to Satanism as he did want to feel my chin grown prominence.
I finished work today! Summer Grind 2008 is over. A lot of money has been made to reduce my general debt levels and get me as close to the break-even point as I’ll go, but given that another £800 will be vanished from my account to the greedy house people this time next month the joy will be short lived. Plus which it seems that my student loan will once again not be on time because of their ever-disgraceful system that can put “awaiting information from your mentioned relatives” on your application, and not have sent any letter about the loan in OVER A MONTH. Sorry but its beyond a joke!
And now I’m out of the ONE MEADOWHALL, ONE TEAM (The Fascist regime) allow me the goodness of expressing my shock at how much the job seems to have changed. I’ll spare the base arguments of “X did this…”, “Y didn’t do this…” and “what do we need Z for?”. Since being there last time it seems like the job has become harder when in fact its very much the same.
The difference is that the company now has more emphasis placed on putting the customer first, like they’re all some form of demi-god. And we now has supervisor, supervisors as well as managers (I saw my manager twice in all my working hours). There has been so much pressure put on staff to do their jobs efficiently, without talking much with other Whilst bowing to the customers every need, it seriously is at the point where staff are coming to work wanting to just go home again more often than not. Good staff members, loyal staff members. People that can do their jobs and know how to, unlike the “Alpha” call signs that have never had any of the jobs that their subordinates do.
Well, at least now its over, for me! This ranting note will also serve as a reminder, to myself, why I won’t be going back next year.
Looking back on these recent entries, it seems my life can be mirrored to these entries. Everything is happening in short, disconnected spells and nothing seems to be adding up to anything. It’s really been a while since I sat down and wrote something here. But then again its 3.33AM and likely hood I’ll rub all this out in the morning with embarrassment, a writer is his own best editor.
Everywhere I see people are taking life far too seriously. Why? What’s the point in building up your feelings for someone only to have them knocked down before even declared? What’s the point of staying worried about an argument you know you’ll win when there’s nothing you can do to hasten its victory. What’s the point in worrying about a bad moment you know will come, but not when.
We are all given and giving information off all the time. Even now as I sit here in my room on my own typing this on my computer, I am giving this message to you, and the whole world. I cannot guarantee the terms I use in google are not stored, or even viewed by a human. The only thing we can do is to try and absorb that information, keep a cool head and get on with things. Be stoic, but adventurous. Admit to yourself, I will do better next time, or I can settle for this. There are more moments than this one in the world, and not all will be as bad as this one. Tomorrow is a new morning, get out there and enjoy it!
I've been absent recently, and quite suprised! I have found myself timeless recently through too much work and what has actually been a really decent summer. However come tuesday i will get this pack horse on the road and really go for the BLOG!
Once again I awoken to find my mind shaken by its dreamtime displays of random noise. It’s amazing to think how much those things can and do affect us. Where do these random subversions of conscious thought come from? And why are they so powerful?
Many better people than me have written huge books on the subject, but its good to know people are thinking. It’s good to know also that despite the best efforts of scientists, there are some things which we will never understand!
Very early last Thursday I got up with all bags and tent and extras packed and went to
At the station I just caught the train to derby, by a margin of less than 20 seconds.
Then I relaxed for 30 minutes as
At derby I caught a train to
There is one word that must be used in any description of the Leeds Festival 2008. That word is mud. By the time I arrived
After meeting friends and getting all our tents set up, things started to improve, dark moods started to lighten as various drugs, from cigarettes to alcohol, and perhaps beyond (no doubt somewhere in those fields someone did something!). On my own part it was mostly alcohol, but the remnants of the night are scattered along a trail of darkness.
The next day things started quite positively, with drinking and eating and such. Using the time honoured method of festival behaviour (that’s get drunk, go see bands, sober up a bit, then come home after the bands and drink more), the festival went pretty damn well. I took with me the most cheap camera I could find on eBay and found it to be a solid performer!
How much I could write about the past week! I was nervous of going and nervous most of the time I was there! This is to be expected because from Wednesday to Sunday I was with people I had never met or known before in my life (besides
My feelings for her also suffered some small amount of bruising too, but not because of her doing. It seems one of her friends was utterly unappeasable on my part during my visit. Even
However before I even have time to think about that I must prepare for another unknown voyage as I pack my literal bags and head for
Here is where we look from. We look to what we want and pray for the day we have made the journey. Although to start the journey takes such great effort sometimes. We don’t look at the in-between place, we see the destination only, and trip over every obstacle along the way.
I go to
But how this construction ages…. We will have to wait and see. For certain I feel I love that girl who inspired me to craft such words! But in 24 hours time…. will she share this thing with me still? I hope… very much hope …. That its so!
It’s a lovely Friday today. I had a pot noodle. I posted a parcel. I went shopping. I got mail! These are all the ingredients for a good day. Tomorrow I will have to get up on time, goto work… do it for eight hours, then come home. The contrast is pretty amazing!
That’s not to say I don’t like my job I do!
It’s a quite week this week. I have no extra shifts from Monday to Friday this week… so it’s a lot of resting and eBaying. I am trying to get all my ebaying done in a 60 day period, that way I will be able to see the total amount for everything I’ve sold during this jolly time!
Whence bringing me back from Leicester recently my dad noted the sheer amount of stuff I had was rather phenomenal, not so much as the fact that we shifted it all in one car journey, I told him it was my intention to do a lot of selling on ebay of the stuff… large amounts of which are electronic in nature on the grand markets of ebay.
This promise has been kept, as 34 DVDs and computer games will testify! Sold for a grand price of somewhere around the £89 mark! That’s £3 each on average… not a sum to be sniffed at!
There is also more to come! Just wait and see!
It’s been about a month now since I was randomly thrown into collision with the lovely Delanwy (“Delanie”) Arthur, a lovely lady from south
We met in an online chat, and have used up each others credit ever since, as well as talking online of course. Any of you who are extremely lucky to be parley to my facebook page will have already had the chance of experiencing this crazy lady. I would, could and should write so much more but I have probably embarrassed her enough for now!
I have recently (and some would say unsurprisingly) regained my job at Meadowhall, cleaning tables in the Oasis… however there have been many changes since last time: they have built a staircase in the middle of it, which used to lead up to the upper level “mezz” floor seating… however about two weeks after completion this area was closed to be made ready to be turned into one or perhaps two new restaurants. Also there have been a good few staffing changes and some of my old co-workers are no longer co-workers, but have been promoted to ex-employees.
Another major change from last year is that it no longer floods in the first week of my contract which, I have to say, was quite a letdown. This time last year we were still cleaning the mud from all sorts of queer corners!
I should be in this job till the end of September, and maybe I will continue for another month or two doing only my standard hours of 16 every weekend. It depends how the matters of money proceed.
Has it been three weeks? Or maybe more I don’t know. Once again lots has happened. But time is no longer my friend these days just a bus that seems to pass by, a bus I run to the bus stop to try and catch up with.
I fear in order to catch up and inform readers of the multitude of changes, some for the better and some for the infuriatingly worse I will have to write a small septology of books. Unfortunately right now time has run out. But later today expect and update regarding computers, work, women and the eBay fiend.
It has been a while I must admit…. Lots has happened recently… I have a job now! Back at good old meadowhall. Well its not good but it is old! About 16 years old now I think…. The age at which its legal for sex…. However I do not think I shall be having sex with it! I should be fired for such a coarse code of conduct… especially during working hours.
I also now have a lovely girlfriend who I loves very much because she is gorgeous and sexy… but will explain her more later.. this is just a quick note to myself to keep cracking the whip and writing away!
And its impossibly early in the morning too! I went to sleep earlier and then woke up again about an hour ago… so I am currently feeling like grog central and have a look synonymous with 3 day old open tins of beans! More later!
Isn’t it funny how things sometimes fall right down how they should. Why at one moment we can be fighting against the tide… the the next moment we seem to be carried on the wind? Without any gradual change the hardest mountains are suddenly yesterday’s foothills. Maybe we have some sort of chemistry with out environment… and if its wrong then it all goes to hell in a hand basket… and not a very flame proof basket either.
So it’s with no great trepidation that yesterdays dreams, by way of money and trust, are sustained and made today’s. Old avenues open their gates once again to allow exploration, inviting me. Yet still I worry. I will probably go to my grave worrying about something… even if its worrying I died in a stupid position. From all future consequence, only a few actions either way are required on my part.
And after the previous month I’ve just dragged myself through, I’m content to let that be!
I found some treasurable memories hidden under letters and behind the desk, where chance and no cares flicked them. Train tickets to Skegness, Norfolk and London. A CD of a band I went to see because of the company. Also keys to locks that no longer exist. No all the memories are good though; there’s an unredeemed prescription, a pile of bills and statements. IOU notes and even simple pens.
There has been a definite mix of good and bad times this year. I’ve done good things, had good nights out, and produced good work. I’ve also got into lots of trouble, lots of debt and even lots of pain! I have learnt lots about myself and because of some things, life wont ever be the same!
All that point to just one thing! It’s going home time! My room is packed up, walls stripped, keyboard bagged up, hi fi system dismantled, laser light locked up, speakers on standby; tomorrow I go back home. Hopefully to work, certainly to my family and definitely to a lot of application forms!!
The last few days weather has been impressively summery; Bright blue skies, burning hot sun and fresh air. It could have been a Jane Austin novel, but it wasn’t it was real life. The highlight of yesterday was undoubtedly playing football in Bede park. It was so hot I was reduced to just my sexy green shorts. The sight of my bare white chest reflecting the suns rays (and absorbing quite a bit I’ll have you know) made many people reach for their sunglasses.
Today we pulled up 75% of the garden, which was weeds, some of them thorny types. It looks quite bald now, but it’s one less task to do before the big high-ho off-we-go in a few weeks, which really hasn’t been well organised on my own part. I had such great plans you see, but none came to be because for mysterious reasons I’m unemployable. God knows why, but out of about 50 job applications, 3 have gotten back to me. That’s a 16% success rate…. Bad times.
Later I watched bumble bees flying to and from the bees nest by my window, it’s amazing that they always seem to know just where to come back to, once they’re about two meters away they go straight for it. I wish I was such a creature, with a simple life to lead. Instead I have to worry about bills, job applications, organising the big move home preparing stuff to get a job when I’m there, sorting out next years student loan, worrying about paying rent, the ride just doesn’t stop!
Some of the people in the house have been moving great piles of their own stuff out over the last few days. Slowly the house is returning to its original empty self again, as a circle completed. Regarding tenancy, I previously wanted to move into university halls, but that was as much time, stress and now wasted effort as finding a job. It makes me wonder if I just have a cloud of bad karma following me round.
So I watch the bumble bee, wanting to be taken off into its little world, where it feels so alone, but works for the great cause. It’s quieter now, because the sun goes down, and I know the bumble bee doesn’t think about me. I wish it would spare me a thought, but it sits there wrapped in it’s own little world, dreaming, and having nothing to do with me.
At first the premise was simple. And yet it must have been interesting, as it kept going and going and going. Marrakech army would fly over the planet, and beam up the unfortunate souls. At first I had no idea what was going on, but whilst waiting in the ante-chamber one time, I saw it happen, I saw my fate.
Inside a large concrete room was the floor. From up on high but behind triple thick glass shadowy figures watched. The Marrakech elite. The commanders of the crews that had found and brought us here, wherever here was and whoever we were. In the middle of the room was about 50 people, cowering and very clearly disorientated, their clothes were dirty and their eyes were very glazed over. Not drugged, just confused.
There was a hum, and suddenly I became aware of a room beyond, it was full of what looked like turbines or fans spinning. There was a door between that room and the floor room, but before we could see more blinds formed between our own glass door and the rest. There were some muffled noises then, and… I was sure of it, screams.
After a few minutes the blinds disappeared and the middle room was empty. The turbine room though, was all pink and there were weird things on the floor, long white stones stained red, and a few delicate stones that looked like heads, but hollow, and without face features at all. Our door opened.
A growling, deep voice began. “I am Marrakech, you must step into the middle room now.” And we did, as though we had no choice but to obey. Then the door behind closed and the voice continued.
“You’re here because your lives has been misworthy, unspent in their potential, and for some spent in a world of hate. You are to be destroyed. May the good one spirit have mercy on any soul you possess.”
Then the turbines started to spin again, and I noticed, I noticed a room at the side, with a door that seemed half open, and quite thick. I rushed to it, and entered, there was nothing inside but a desk, the room itself being only just big enough for three of these, one being enough though. I got behind the door and realised air was being sucked slowly towards the turbines, which could be seen through a triple thick window on the right of the door.
This wind became more powerful and caused the door to bang closed and stay that way. The hum of turbines was so loud I put my fingers on my ears and crouched on the floor. I heard screams, and loud bangs and my head felt like it was being pulled apart. Then for some reason, the door broke from its hinges and was flung backwards across the chamber, and I collapsed to the floorAt first the premise was simple. And yet it must have been interesting, as it kept going and going and going. Marrakech army would fly over the planet, and beam up the unfortunate souls. At first I had no idea what was going on, but whilst waiting in the ante-chamber one time, I saw it happen, I saw my fate.
Inside a large concrete room was the floor. From up on high but behind triple thick glass shadowy figures watched. The Marrakech elite. The commanders of the crews that had found and brought us here, wherever here was and whoever we were. In the middle of the room was about 50 people, cowering and very clearly disorientated, their clothes were dirty and their eyes were very glazed over. Not drugged, just confused.
There was a hum, and suddenly I became aware of a room beyond, it was full of what looked like turbines or fans spinning. There was a door between that room and the floor room, but before we could see more blinds formed between our own glass door and the rest. There were some muffled noises then, and… I was sure of it, screams.
After a few minutes the blinds disappeared and the middle room was empty. The turbine room though, was all pink and there were weird things on the floor, long white stones stained red, and a few delicate stones that looked like heads, but hollow, and without face features at all. Our door opened.
A growling, deep voice began. “I am Marrakech, you must step into the middle room now.” And we did, as though we had no choice but to obey. Then the door behind closed and the voice continued.
“You’re here because your lives has been misworthy, unspent in their potential, and for some spent in a world of hate. You are to be destroyed. May the good one spirit have mercy on any soul you possess.”
Then the turbines started to spin again, and I noticed, I noticed a room at the side, with a door that seemed half open, and quite thick. I rushed to it, and entered, there was nothing inside but a desk, the room itself being only just big enough for three of these, one being enough though. I got behind the door and realised air was being sucked slowly towards the turbines, which could be seen through a triple thick window on the right of the door.
This wind became more powerful and caused the door to bang closed and stay that way. The hum of turbines was so loud I put my fingers on my ears and crouched on the floor. I heard screams, and loud bangs and my head felt like it was being pulled apart. Then for some reason, the door broke from its hinges and was flung backwards across the chamber, and I collapsed to the floor.
This time the venue was a big theatre, red seats and curtains and spotlights. The stage had stairs reaching up onto it and it seemed there were two doors. There were folks there, lots of folks with orange suits on, and a couple of robots, large with big arms and red camera-eyes. The robots patrolled the rear of the theatre; a dark corridor with a door in the middle. I saw no more, as a nearby robot picked me painfully up and threw me back into the theatre.
A familiar growling voice said, “4355 your time is up!”. The audience started cheering and a spotlight from above fell onto a prisoner, he got up, smiling, waving at the audience and made his way to the stage.
Once on the stage, a chair appeared. Just appeared from thin air, he sat on it. It seemed a screen suddenly appeared from the black rear of the theatre, high up, and no illumination was cast. A thick pair of grey lips filled the screen, beyond the lips only blackness. What more of the face there was to see, was only a dark green skin. When the lips moved burst of spittle occasionally dribbled or sloshed out, and I couldn’t help but think washing machine, washing machine.
“You are to be judged. A random series of events will be picked from your subconscious memory and played. You will then be judged based on these random memories.”
Then the screen went black, then a few seconds later it reappeared, showing a street in a city that looked familiar, but no names came to mind. I realised I couldn’t remember anything.
The person from whom we were watching was running down this street, in a pedestrianised area. From out of nowhere a kind of bat or club like object appeared and suddenly swung out at a figure, which dropped to the floor. Then the view looked down at the victim, a woman in a black smart dress, blood was pouring from the back of the head, a hand reached down as if to grasp her arm and pull her up, but instead grabbed her purse-bag thing, then running resumed.
White bright light suddenly filled everything, and we were in a tiled bathroom, there was a figure on the floor, probably feminine, but in a gross state of disarray. She wasn’t moving and appeared to be sleeping heavily. A hand reached out and touched her face, the same hand. The face moved lazily, to get away from the touch. The eyes didn’t open though. The hand gently resumed touching the face, then went lower, neck, chest (here it spent a long time). The audience were raucous and quite loud, so that any audio was drowned.
The figure sat before us on the chair tried to get up, but fell down. It was as if he had been drugged himself, or at least incapacitated in some form.
More horror-show events played out on the screen, all bad events in 4355’s life. Eventually, the house lights, which had dimmed previously to this returned to full brightness. The huge lips were back, and said only one word.
“Failed”
A door opened on the stage, two robots came fourth and picked up the creature, they threw him down in front of the door and stood there like guards. No getting’ out sonny Jim.
The growling voice replied “Would you please step into the wind tunnel, inside you will be separated down into your component molecules and returned to processing”. 4355 stepped forward slowly, cautiously, everything went quiet. Then suddenly there was a blast of wind, felt even from the back of the theatre, and 4355 seemed to shift sideward. Not walk, just shift at incredible speed. After a moment he was gone, gone in the blackness.
This routine carried on for a while, people got up, had bad events played and then disappeared into the door. Occasionally one would appear with good events played, and would be shown to the other door, through which such a bright white light flooded the theatre and sent me nearly blind as bats.
The current prisoner was 4410. I looked on my own sleeve and realised I was number 4412. A light suddenly shined on my, it was my turn.
Blink
At one instant I got loose. Instead of watching the hypnotic judgement or these crazy people, I concentrated on getting out. Watching the back of house robots, I saw they patrolled in a pair, walking first one way down then another. I waited till they had reached the halfway-point (going away from me) then made a run for it.
Behind the doorway was something I couldn’t understand at first, and then I saw it was a theatre, again with stage, screen and rowdy audience. I could almost believe I had just walked out of here at the other end.
An alarm went off now, and the audience members started to rise and turn towards me, their faces contorted in hate. Time seemed to slow down, as if I was no longer a person, but a mystic creature with instincts like atom-razors. I looked to the other side of the back end of the theatre, there was another door, but at a different angle and beyond it, the purest, cleanest light I can ever remember. I started to move for it, but moved so slowly, and arms were already on me, metal arms.
I was dragged down a side corridor and then thrown outside.
I though it was outside.
After a few moments I realised what I had taken for a concrete wall of the side of the building, was in fact part or the room; a room which seemed to hum. The other walls were concrete too, and at one end, behind a huge glass door, there were turbines, moving quickly. The door started to open and invisible hands started to pull me towards them.
Blink.
In the first instance, I knew this was different. There were no lights, no stage, maybe even no Marrakech. Just red chairs and blue chairs. I was in a red chair.
“Your first challenge today is destruction racing. You will each be assigned cars and must ensure you destroy at least one other car to continue.”
Within seconds I was falling towards the ground, from hundreds of feet up. Below me, were little black spots, maybe cars? One started to glow so red I could not not notice it. Then I was overcome by a blinding rush. I was in the car. No, I was the car. There were red vehicles and blue vehicles moving around now on this hilly landscape. I spotted a blue car and instantly recognised it as 4355. I started chasing. My wheels seemed to adapt quite well to the terrain and it was far less bumpy than it seemed. Suddenly 4355 lost control and flipped over.
I saw a blue car coming at me on the left and raced even faster and the still spinning car. I was clipped at the back and pain erupted from that area, and a dull soreness. But I stayed in control and smashed 4355 in two.
I turned my attention back to the blue car which had clipped me. Turning in a wide arc I saw it was 4306, I did not know him, but started to charge at him, him already being perfectly lined up to hit me and gaining speed. I started to turn, as though trying to avoid him. Noticing this he started to turn also, but then I switched tactic and drove straight at him. Without any more time to turn I crumpled most of the front of his car and shattered every window. The pain I felt was substantial, but less surely.
The battle didn’t last very long after that, I have no idea how many people were involved; I just drove around, aiding my fellow reds where possible.
Then suddenly we were back in the room with chairs. Opposite us, the blue team were bleeding and howling in agony, I gave a feral smile. Then realised howls were also coming from our own team.
Theres no such thing as a free lunch.
I felt good though. The impetus to judge and reward had become extremely unimportant this year. We were now our own reward reapers, and though something felt extremely odd about our lives, I knew I was only doing what I needed to do to survive.
I guess that’s what you get for listening to Anthony Burgess’s “A Clockwork Orange” late at night. Not the movie version, no that is now strange and incomplete, especially seeing as more than a few chapters were simply cut from the end.
The tale told before you, which yes I wrote in its entirety this morning, is a reflection on this. However a fusion of other elements seems to have been infused, based on my own stimulus of the last few days. Cars, nature programs and sci-fi.
An initial theme of judgement, presented in A Clockwork Orange is one of judgement. What gives us the right to judge others, and thus it becomes a cautionary tale about the abuse of power by the authority figures, keen to “help”. Whilst the mysterious Marrakech is not a substitution of the British government, he is a reflection of it. If one is to transmogrify these ideas, it creates a question, who has the right to judge us? The answer I think which is subconsciously resonant in A Clockwork Orange is only the individual. Only the individual should judge itself. However when this doesn’t happen, others often step in, for good or bad, to try and “help” someone.
Well earlier I applied for what is the 51st job in 2 weeks. So far I’ve had limited success. A number of people said they would get back to me, and didn’t. A handful of vacancies had already gone, one was even kind enough to write me a letter telling me I did not make the grade but “the overall standards of applicants this round was higher than expected”. That makes me feel better. No actually it does because they bothered to let me know. Of all the rest, we’re talking upwards of forty. No letters back, no phone calls, nothing. It’s morale breaking times especially when you look at all the things you wanna do, even the smaller things like basic shopping, and realise that you’re a short way from being “broke”.
So today I made a list of all the employment agencies in
I think that all this looking round on eBay and the internet in general is perhaps not the best motivation for getting a job. Looking at all the latest (or at least modern) technology and realising how badly you can’t afford it (where the price of the logo alone adds 15% to the cost of a product), fills me with want, but not drive. It’s the drive I’m missing. Well I assume so as I’ve heard basically nothing from what is now an impressionable list (and believe me I HAVE made a list) of employers not employing, albeit they maybe need time to waste for other candidates but time is something I simply don’t have.
There comes a time also when you realised something. It’s a midlife crisis thing where you realise you aren’t really doing anything with your life. You have all these dreams and desires and do nothing about them but keep them as dreams. Well today I made up my mind that hopefully next year I'm going to live one of my dreams.
When I was younger I liked animals. I really got into them, wanted (and infrequently got) cats, gerbils, even ferrets. Lovely animals each and every one, except when having more than one type at once, occasionally led to one becoming the others dinner. I'm getting sidetracked now. I could sit and watch nature programs for ages, not phased by the gore, or intrigued by the animals performing a strange “mating” ritual. However as well as the animals, the locations of these weird and wonderful creatures were often as fantastic as the animals. They stuck in my head like a camouflaged snow leopard, coming out to be seen only a little more often.
So I resolved in my head to visit some, and although there has been no slapping down of the cash, my mind is set to go. That’s my drive, to go see a world outside that one I live work and study in. So where to go? I figured it was best to play safe and make sure I'm there too long rather than too little time (I hate not having time to go and see things, life should not be an edited journey).
So I made up my mind to spend about two weeks next year in the Amazon rainforest and
There are those that tell you they can and have seen into the fog of future, they say that they have gained a glimpse of what is to come. Whilst whittling away the hours recently in a fantasy adventure game (not a genre I normally associate with), I came across a magical creature not human, whose perception of time past present and future was instantaneous, that is to say every moment that had ever happened was happening, and every moment to happen had already happened.
Obviously this put the poor thing under terrible stress, it being unable to make grammatically correct sentences, and constantly confusing the past,current and future tenses.
Whilst waiting myself, for whatever the time fog brings presently to me, I’ve been taking a little trip back down memory lane. I’ve been looking at photos of times gone by, and getting a good old dose of nostalgia. Previously, I always considered this feeling, indeed this thought mechanism, as being disruptive, a waste of time, and possibly even useless. Now however, I’m not so sure.
Whilst the fantasy creature cannot communicate effectively, it can communicate, and knows what it talks about. However, study a person suffering from memory loss, and you will find the opposite; the person will make sense but be clueless as to the context of its discourse. In short, whilst knowing where you’re going can make life difficult, not knowing where you’ve been would seem to make performing any kind of role, impossible.
Nature is one giant sphere. Galaxies, planets, the sun, drops of water, eggs, eyes, all spherical. They are the most successful natural formations of the three dimensions, but what about the fourth dimension and its products? Is time round, linear, spherical, is it anything? This is fringe stuff right here folks, so put your thinking caps on…
I think time does follow nature. Weather is an ever repeating cycle, if you wait long enough, the same time of day will come round again, after 60 minutes we return to the first, and look at analogue clocks (the ones with handles), round and they have been around for hundred of years. When we remember an event, we “cast” our minds back to it. We create a little loop in time, taking us back to that moment to experience it in our heads.
Unlike those that seek to profit from progress, I do look back. I look back at where I’ve been, tracing the footsteps until a more distant fog shrouds those to far to ever return, and it makes me wonder if, perhaps even hope that time is circular, but then you have to turn back forwards, and take the steps which follow an ever travelling darkness.
I believe the Righteous Brothers got it wrong, time doesn’t seem to go by slowly, it just seems to have moments where you’re less aware if its passing. Time and it’s grand old mysteries, ahh! Enough of that rubbish, if you want wise words on time, look up Proust, that will teach you a lot.
As of late I have been doing very little, the coffers are running dry and the desperate desire for job and sorted out accommodation for next year is reaching fever pitch now. In addition to the added upcoming chores of applying for next years loan (maybe this time I will get it on time), and sorting out when I’m going home, I should have a lot of my plate. I suppose I do, but I still have too much time.
I am not so trite as to believe I’m the only one whose frequent companion for bed is his love machine known as a laptop computer (HP DV 2000). I would prefer a more homo-sapiens shaped, dare I say it… female creature to take its place, at least the laptop is less demanding than the average Madame, in fact it could be argued that I have the perfect relationship, all the demands I make of my partner are frequently fulfilled, and in much quicker time than I could ever dream of. However there’s a problem, the age difference.
Granted the DV 2000 is technically only three years old, however we all know that PC’s will never be built to last, seven years I suspect is the maximum 99% of all types of computer seem to last, and the good ones a lot less. So comparatively, my DV 2000 is older than me, somewhere between 35-45, and aging fast.
The cracks are beginning to show we no longer have the fun we used to in the good old days. She knows she’s getting on, she keeps reminding me with BSODS at least once a week, though I work round them. I try to make it work though, I join forums, ask for guidance, get told to get her checked out. However at the end of the day (or month if she’s that way inclined), things always seem to work out, and I must admit, I really love her! I wonder what she’d be like as a human female? Well she is still working well, but gets over hot and complains easily. She is also missing a few of her keys, and her memory is maybe not so good, probably average, save for the age difference, and we all know that time is no barrier to true love!
So, the album is out and so far its gone down like a storm! Albeit a very small one that dwells in a cup of tea, one of those cups of tea no one drinks. However I must accept that the website upon which I’ve hosted the music is, for all its good points, still in development. So it could just be the counters that are wrong. No purchases may be a possible situation, but surely no previews has got to be wrong.
Although in one respect I’ve been hating the songs (they’ve kept me inside all this past week and what a nice sunny week its been!), I’m also very proud of the end achievement, which despite a rather dodgy microphone (and NO help from Mik___ there) has turned out pretty decent!
So now that’s out of the way it is job-hunting-critical time! Whether or not I get a job this very week is going to have serious implications on at least the next ten years of my life. That’s how serious it is!
There are no more words to write for another 5 months now. No more group meetings, no performances to plan, no places to go or things to do. The battle of the assignments has been won, but not without its cost. For I say that unless the battle takes something out of you, be it sleep, health or part of your sanity. The assignment hasn’t tested you, and that’s what they are meant to do.
Another short war will be fought in the coming days too. The war to beat the deadline, as if in reprisal of all that has just gone (and especially the last two crazy weeks), begins again. Crinkle Is Crayz is due for release, long overdue if you ask me. I remember in January I thought I was a month from finishing it, then real life happened.
Though most songs are done, and some just need vocals re-recording, there’s a large 18 minute monster on the end which neeeeeeeeds to be finished. A symphonic opus and quite a dark track, but one who’s ending always fulfils promise.
After Saturday then? What happens next? Only time will tell, but I am greatly looking forward to writing on a blank canvas!
Bring me the weekend. The weekend is the end. The weekend is the end my friend. Once again, a year is reaching its end. In a few days, year two will be in my past.
It is scary to think about how violently fast this year seems to have gone. The world is speeding up, or at least that’s how it seems. Back when I was a youngster, days seemed to last for ages. Maybe as I grew up, I lost my appreciation of time. Indeed, my sense of it. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back either.
My emotional habitat this year has been a bit strange; last years was strange too, but in a good way. As a cliché, it’s just a product of my environment, if I’m in a good place I’ll be happy, if I’m with good people I’ll be happy. But this year has been a more sobering journey, and next year I have the birthday of all birthdays coming up, my quarter century.
So I’m not pleased with what I’ve done and how I’ve felt at sometimes this year, sometimes. At other times I’ve felt great, mostly not good though. However I’m taking steps over this summer to get what seems like wishful thinking to become something tangible. The reasons, some of you may know, but I won’t write them here. We’re talking deeply personal stuff now, stuff that needs to be fixed. I’d sound narcissistic by mentioning it too.
As a final thought I’d like to reach out to people and say; stop thinking about stuff and start doing it. There are a couple of people out there I know that try and find meaning behind everything. What a waste of time! I’m not saying the pursuit of knowledge isn’t honourable or valuable, but some things can’t be understood, not fully. Like time for instance, we know it goes one way while we want it to go the other, it speeds up when things are good. Does it even exist?
These are questions without answers. No one can tell you if time is real or what it actually is. Generally I don’t analyse at all, which is why I’m such a shit character at times. When the conversation goes in a personal or delicate level, I tend to either mess it up, or not understand. I do analyse sometimes, but don’t see the point in thinking about everything. Like Slarty Bartfast, the character from Douglas Adams masterpiece…
SLARTIBARTFAST
I don't know, perhaps I'm old and tired,
but I always think that the chances of
finding out what's really going on are so
absurdly remote that the only thing to do
is say hang the sense of it and keep
yourself busy. I'd much rather be happy
than right any day.
ARTHUR
And are you?
SLARTIBARTFAST
No. That's where it all falls down of
course.
See you next year freinds, for what is sure to be an interesting and eventful new year.
So, yesterday’s interview went ok. I passed it, but needed to get hold of my passport, it’s one of these silly “prove your age!” scenarios. The stuff I can give is the stuff they don’t want. Well as soon as I got home I stormed the gates and the entire castle that is my bedroom, and, you guessed it, no luck!
I’m a firm believer in sods law. If you want something, you won’t get it. If you need something it won’t be there. So now I’m going to have to make arrangements to get a new passport, costing upwards of £100, and it’s going to take at least a week, all because at the vital moment, my passport, wherever it is, refused to exist. I know it should be in this very room, but isn’t, it isn’t here because I want it to be, that’s the most annoying thing. But anyway at the risk of sounding boring I’ll shut up.
So a series of telephone calls await me. To the agency willing to employ me, to the Identity and Passport Service, and a few unrelated others, and on top of all this, an assignment I thought was due in at the end of the week was actually due in yesterday. Can anyone say, FAIL?
Also I’m suffering in bad faith about all this… diary stuff. I don’t think anyone’s actually bothered; no one seems to be reading or at least commenting on it when I upload it to the internet. I’m only narcissistic to a point, but if anyone is reading, leave a comment, no matter how crap, giving me faith that there’s any point continuing. I’m not asking for analysis I can rebuff, though if you have any it would be awesome. Just let me know I’ve been read!
I've got an interview soon for a job! Amazing,its about half an hour away and in preparation for it i've learned to touch type, yes i practically haven't looked down at the keyboard whilst typing all this, fantastic. Thats another life skill picked up! Anyway, must dash, i'll tell all about the interview later!
It has been a while, for which I apologise. They say blogging is a skill, it is. It’s the skill of the good writer, being able to write constantly, at will, and regularly. Though I can certainly do two of those, the third presents some real difficulties. However I amaze myself at the speed at which I can actually write, which even now is approximately one ~12 line per six seconds or so. Of course, there’s the stopping, editing, clipping of rubbish bits too which must be done. Post processing.
No real need to wonder on that fact, save that on Monday I’ve got a job interview for a job as a typist, not a career I’d be willing to take up professionally, but for £8 an hour I will certainly give it a go.
Recently I’ve been very busy getting on with work, university work, and getting it done too. I handed in a slightly dodgy essay on Thursday. Nothing too wrong with it, just I don’t think I argued my point properly. I’ve also been recorded for tv and radio recently too. A DMU TV advert (I’m in the background somewhere) and various small parts in a radio script (not yet broadcast, but as soon as I can link to it I will).
Yesterday was an amazing day in many senses. Admittedly I drank about four cans of relentless over the day, but I left the house about four separate times, each time walking at least a mile. The sun was out, I put on some bright colours, got a haircut, went job searching AND went out with my mates and blew a shit load of cash on booze. I didn’t get paralytic, I paced myself, I got a
Now I expect you’re just waiting for the “but” or “until”, well there isn’t one. It was a generally excellent day yesterday. Today will be less so, and I am a little hung over, but I guess there are two prices for every drink, and about 12 double vodka and cokes don’t buy themselves do they?
In the first dream, I am deprived of all senses. Everything is taken away, except for an image, an image of square shapes which purports to be reality itself, the depth of these offerings is hard to convey in words which make sense. In my state, I realised that the life in which I now type the words, is only the real dream, and that in a slumberous state I simply drift through the realities.
The second vision took me to a beach far away. The sky was a crystalline green but the water a sexy warm blue. Creatures roam around, oblivious to me, humanoid beings whose power transcends that which I know. Then people came, human people. They tried to tame the creatures and make them slaves, but one night, the entire race of beings not human, packed up and left into darkness, with the grace and speed found in a cloud of birds in the sky, who collectively turn and dance as one.
They left, on the beach, several items, which burrowed their way into the sand overnight. In the morning, there was plant life on the beach. Huge flowers with long, living, stinging tentacles who would whip, choke or drown any that came to the beach.
The third dream took me into a strange mystic land of magicians and creatures. My friends, magicians and witches. The land is dark and seems lifeless. However there’s a huge castle built into the landscape. I explore the castle, and meet more people, preparing for a celebration. I reach the top of the tower and look down on the vast plain. The people no more than dots below, dots arranged into a circle, holding hands. I have missed the ceremony. But then something goes wrong, and suddenly the people below are running in all different directions. Running away from things I can’t see. Things that move in the blackness of a reality which isn’t, but which sometimes seems to be everything.
That’s one pretty crazy night of adventure. Though I’ve set these up as stories, I was shown images and feelings, I relay these through my interpretation as best I can. Dreams don’t make sense, but we make sense of dreams through our desire to understand. A desire that has evolved us from ape to man. Perhaps the next stage of evolution is to come to understand dreams then? Maybe so!
My would be darling, led still astray. A man of single significance, yet such great ignorance, to beauty true, in face and body beautifull. How it turns me upside out, to get even the merest hint of the chase, which, being a singular course of two likeminded yet opposite particles yields no truth for the truer beauty.
Such wiseless words I spill, as would make a mockery of all my conscience were I to provide subject goal from abstract thought. Yet it is easier to think this way, the abstract makes the real not real, and therefore easier of passage.
I see a world, where people want and dream of better things. Instead of turning the magnifier on themselves to behold a truly great thing. I see a world ready for collapse by way of screens made by all of us to keep out that most unwanted intruder, ourselves. I see the men of power ruining all for the greater gain of their lies and their hatred for their enemies, the good and the free.
Life without meaning is not terrible, just abstract and unclear. By transcending the boundaries of the allowed and disallowed, to look behind the greatest of boundaries, judgement, provides a view of a place where all things are equal and no power rules but the power of all.
When about 6 days ago i got money, i ordered a part for my computer, a new hard disk drive. It arrived 6 agonising days later, today. I've been waiting since monday for the cheerfull knock on the door of the early morning postman. Today it happened! However, may joy was short lived, the damn thing doesn't fit. Doesn't fit because its 1.5Millimeters too high. Frig!
So i ordered a new HDD, from ebay of course, asked the guy i bought the non-fitting one from it i can return it, and hope to god the new one arrives by friday. Or i seriously will crack. Today was the first time in a week, YES A WEEK, of being on the internet/computer. Damn i need to catch up.
Also recent new i must say about my recent night out with freinds monkey Hel__ and the phillips was quite bizzarre, i ended up quite paraletical and gave some brown prophesies to the toilet bowl, not good stuff at all, especially as it was after such as reasonable amount of booze... i have drank 6 pints of vitamin G before without any such trouble, i've gone all the way upto 9 before calling a halt to the expensive night out! Strange that my memory is fine up to leaving the bar we were in, and blank ever after. I suspect foul play, but with such complete memory lack it's hard to think straight about it! I compulsively had to leave early the next day too (6am) in case of the delivery of what, then, seemed to be the answer to all my problem.
It only later occured to me than getting a cable/cables to connect the drive outside the case may be a much more affordable, if slightly lunatic way to go about it... So i ordered some cables to, about £25's worth of cables, if, with all these cables, two fresh HDD and tonnes of patience i can't solve the problem, i think i'll just pay £50 for an airgun and blow myself up.
Well i'm still alive, and the funk soul brother. At the library, dreaming away for time untill i can get up and work, get up and do my clunky bit. Give me coin i'll give you booty. Thats how it is. I'm going home soon to get all the extraneous crap in my life and sell it. It's called trimming, and i'm gonna remove all the extra special nonesence, at my beck and call is the biggest market in the world... eBay!
Whilst many people are curious or only cautious about ebay, it rates over amazon and probably all other online markets at being the biggest place with the lowest prices (generally). Also, if you're after something and aren't as glutton to want it first hand only you can get really GOOD deals. But enough waffling, i'm not an advert, honest.
Anyways, nothing much else to report, i'm bored because my life is boring and jobless. But hopefully it wont always be so!
What to do with my days now? My religion has failed me, the religion of the electron. Religion is believing in something yes? Well i believed in computers and now mine is broken again! I'm not going to be fixing it untill ELD (easter loan day). So what am i going to do? Work is the obvious solution, and socialise, the rest of the time I'll be here at the DMU Library, messing around on the internet. Blogging and being miserable. Withdrawl is a pain!
Anyway, short of depressing you, the problem with my computer is one of hard disk drive faliure. Thats where all the files, photos, songs, assignment copies, movies, games, and programs dissapear, for good. A lot of work might have been lost, but if there is one good thing, it's that i backed up a lot of my crucial files (songs, assignments, writing and perhaps photos too), about two weeks ago, oh lucky fate!
But yes hopefully with a dead computer to ressurect (and i can fix it). I will be convinced to work like that song says "Harder better faster stronger". Well thats the theory. The alternative is mental death. For yourselves, i urge no beliefs at all, it's all smoke and mirrors.
So Easter is here now, is it time for reflection on things. No, reflection just wastes time! I am suddenly possessed with such a drive to get a job. So much so that over the last 2 days I've applied for jobs all over the shop. Three call centre jobs, Fifteen specific jobs, and 8 CV submissions to
Its not that I wont be able to survive without a job, I just want one for the experience. The honest income, and hopefully a part time one that I can continue through next term to “finance my studies” as they say (and as students we all know what that means).
I have also added another 19 backentries for all of august 07 to this blog, quite a depressing time for the most part. Except for a few occaisions of working, and a few holidays away from it all! It's interesting to go back and review your own life in this fashion, very retrospective! I realise the flaw of having this thing as a blog; It's backwards. The most recent entry is at the front, where as the first chronologically is so far back. It's a situation i cant remedy, but i can add more detail.
When I was young at school, we using to accuse people, in an amicable sort of way, of “taxing” things. We would say, “You’ve taxed my pencil” or “Someones taxed my PE kit”. We made it slang for “to steal. So “taxing” was stealing.
This came back to me when reading about the new “budget” our government is making. For those not in the know, a “budget” is not a way to save money, but a way to extort money from the taxpayer (the middle and lower classes). Tax is a percent of the products price that goes into the governments pockets. So tax is going up. That’s the only way politicians think or want it to go. We will be paying more on booze, cars and cigs.
But don’t forget about the normal (hidden) tax you already pay on pretty much everything... Value Added Tax. VAT is where the government makes goods more expensive based on their current price (they add 17.5% to whatever price it is.. Why? Well everyone knows but the government won’t admit it, they are just greedy.
BOOZE. The price of booze is to slip up 4p a pint, 14p per wine bottle, sprits by 55p a bottle and cider by 3p a litre. This is what the government thinks will stop millions of preteens teens and irresponsible peoples (like me perhaps) pigging out on Eau d’ethanol. Why not have age based taxes? If we assume the media is correct and people below 25 cannot drink without going to excess tax THEM more perhaps? 4p on my Guinness and 55p on my vodka bottles are just an annoyance, not dissuader.
CIGS are going up 11p a packet. Damn that’s the nail in the coughing for the smokers isn’t it? Hounded out of all public places, you can’t run from tax, even if your 20 a day habit hasn’t messed up your life, the tax on it will.
In an effort to make
So the government is taxing even more off us, whilst pretty much solving no problems at all. You don’t have to be a school kid to understand tax, but boy I feel like a victim now!
I’m suddenly very distant from everything. You see it suddenly seems to me that all these philosophies about exploring the inner soul seem pointless, useless. At the end of the day you’re just thinking about stuff. Thinking and not doing. I feel like I have been doing too much thinking and not enough doing. Also I have been neglecting this, my tourniquet, the written (or printed page).
I’m not stating here that I believe forms of reflective self expression, art, and mysticisms are crap, or even redundant. It’s just I’m not in the mood for all these people who are digging into it, just because it’s cool, or an easy ride. You know who you are.
The thoughts and feelings that come from inside you are yours and for you alone. You won’t be able to put them into words others can understand without good experience in language, art, poetry, writing, psychology and philosophy. And if you have time to study those at length, then my god what a lot of time you have.
Besides stating the bleeding obvious, this is more of a warning to those that wish to follow the path of becoming incomprehensible to others. The words will not fit your meaning when the meaning cannot fit into words. Even if you can make it fit. What you will find is that it’s already been said, far too many times before.
Another easy day in the 4 part series of easy days! I tidied my room up and did 3 loads of washing, that’s pretty much sixty percent of my clothes washed today! Bugger me! Also I have run out of food, save for a tin of canned ravioli some Shreddies (but no milk) and sausages. I may have to go to the shopping tomorrow!
Come on valentines people, you're running out of time and there is still no national shortage of valentine’s cards, I’m seriously worried I’m going to get less than a billion this year!!! Someone help me out a bit! Well anyway, I tidied up and had drama meetings and got through two cups of tea too. That’s jolly good progress for the day that is!
Christ folks I don’t know if I've ever done so much work as recently. We all go through various productive phases. I term these THE ROCK, THE FIREBALL, THE ANT and THE MADMAN.
Today i have been THE ANT. Getting on with the task of restructuring my online world and providing a central area from which the powers that are can contact me. More later!
Valentines day approaches friends! I hope you are all getting in the mood for romance because there is someone out there who wants you to buy a present this year, someone very special. The shopkeeper.
Yes folks you can guarantee that the TV adverts for Saint Valentines Day this year are going to be as mushy and as low priced as every year. They’re all waiting for you to show them how stupid you are by giving in to the desire to please another by getting a Christmas present. If there ever was anything to make me want to be single, its valentines day, and Christmas, and birthdays. I guess I’m quite a scrooge.
I can’t believe the length some people go to in the name of love. With the richer and more famous people, the romantic acts become more extreme. It’s bad enough people will dedicate their lives to religion which is baseless scientifically, others fall into the trap of staying with someone forever, in extremes even if the person is horrible to them and wont return their misguided feelings. Romeo and Juliet move the hell over!
I can’t actually remember ever getting or giving gifts on February the 14th myself, which may bias my opinion. Not that it matters as if I was foolish enough to be in love with someone why on earth I’d restrict myself to saying it one day of the year is beyond me.
This year I’ve come up with a novel solution though, I’m going to be MY OWN valentine. Not a mad concept as it sounds, I know the gifts I get will be appreciated, I know exactly what my valentine wants, and in fairness I know it’s the little things that please my valentine, chocolates, games and beer. Well its Thursday so maybe also I’ll head down to kinky and dance with myself too! Sounds like a mental day to be honest!
As an artist, and yes that’s what I am, I must learn to do certain things a normal human could not, and the extent to which I do these things belies my own artistic value. I must force myself to re-examine experiences of art, to look at the meaning and symbols behind the art. The artist who says “my work is about” is the lowest form of artist. Should you need to be told what meaning a work contains, you will not understand it. That besides, an artist should show you a thing, not tell you about it.
So my brain is learning to outthink it’s innate prejudgements and work artistically. It’s a mental thing, where everything means something else and nothing is plain. It sounds bad, but is actually very interesting. For instance yesterday I saw an art performance in which the performer was more or less naked. I was thinking “why is she naked” no more than “she is naked”, I was watching her tie a rope around herself very tightly in the midst of about 30 freestanding audience members. To the inartistic, this would have looked a bit mental, if not just plain dodgy, but there was no message there either, just an image to react to.
The greatest moments of history are all features of the great work of art that is our world, and many wars and deaths have occurred in the artifice of religion. Religion is not something I can understand. I have never kept the faith primary and secondary school tried to condition me with. There is no higher power than us, just us. We are our own masters and death is just that, the end of a thing that was art itself for a time.
I believe in personal choice to believe whatever you wish, that we didn’t go to the moon, that Diana was murdered, that god does exist, and that Jeremy Beadle wasn’t all that good, but the wars are made by people trying to tell other people what art is. Art is not what you think, but what you feel. Like love, hate, life and death. Art is eternal.
So things have been getting interesting. Recently returned assignments look promising, I’m making plans for things more than a week in advance (sometimes), and I’ve been to nearly all of my lessons this year (minus a few days for bad food eaten recently). Also I have kind of found a new love interest. I say kind of but not really, she’s nice but she’s leaving the country in a month to go to
However a doubt has been raised in my mind about something recently, a taken for granted fact that may for all the tea in china be nothing but dust in the night. In all the times, years perhaps, that I’ve had a mobile phone it has never once come upon me to really question the fact that it works (save for the odd occasion where I drunkenly snap my phone in two, break the screen or just leave it at a bus station). Recently a friend asked me though why I had ignored her text messages. I told her I hadn’t, she said she had messaged me earlier in the day, a fact which my phone didn’t agree with.
I checked and sure enough, there were no text messages there. No I’m not paranoid much more than the average person (take that as a confession), but now I can’t stop thinking about text conversations, especially on my newest (and as yet undamaged) phone. I always took it for granted that person A was just having a bad day and didn’t want to speak to me, that person N was too busy working, and person J just couldn’t be arsed. Along such lines I may have been thinking for ages that indeed maybe some of my friends don’t like me as much as they (obviously) do. But that is just it, it may have been so.
So I urge any and all reading this to check whether text conversations with me have suddenly seemed to have disappeared. Where the text message doesn’t reach my phone and indeed it seems that I am the one who is being ignorant, when in fact I almost always reply to text messages I receive, such is the sad twat that I am. Oh dear, all this and only three hours sleep last night, and its
So life has been gearing up terrifically recently. In the past week I’ve done an awful lot of work and only been out once. I’ve enjoyed all of it. I only wish I had a job! I’ve been getting on terrifically with work well ahead of time, and gone to all my lessons as if it was a new years resolution! Things are going well and it seems almost too good to be true.
Which it isn’t really, after my pre-Christmas woes I’m feeling good, and doing good too. At times yes I feel down, but not often, not often at all. I have freedom in all things but money, and even that doesn’t bother me, it’s like my body has started producing its own THC, Ethanol or Wormwood. No such luck I’m sure. Life feels good though.
Also yesterday I may have got my love out a little bit. I’m not even bothered about that, even though I was sober and remember all of it. Though that hasn’t developed into anything and maybe never will. I’m not even bothered about that! Jesus, I think there’s something in the air!
Over the past few days I’ve been tidying up the house, bit by bit. Unfortunately I did not quite get it done in time for the return of Ni__, who is now back in his room. We celebrated this with a couple of beers, and Jo__ made the effort to trek all the way out here. We watched a few episodes of the comedy program called “Balls Of Steel” as well as a short film called “Gayniggers from Space”, a comedy film from the seventies. It was not really a racist film at all, and extremely badly dubbed!
I’m passing now, the new house, or the one that will become our house in
Na____, hasn’t been properly introduced in this diary, but maybe now she may should be. For perhaps this author is starting to have feelings for her? I think so, it remains to be seen.
Most recently since the Christmas period, especially since the New Year, I’ve spent a great deal of time working on my music album. This is about 75% complete. It contains such instant pop hit songs as “Internet Psycho”, “Life of the Party” and “Zombies”. When it’s complete maybe it will be about time to start looking for chances to perform these songs. We shall see.
2008 so far... oh how quickly the stars move. I find myself facing a new direction and have new future prospects which don’t look quite so bleak. Even distant warmth is welcomed!
