Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Albums I've Liked in 2013

So to continue a strange tradition, here is the music I discovered and/or enjoyed this year

With further ado [sic]:

America - Dan Deacon

Probably my favourite album out of the three FANTASTIC albums I've discovered from him this year. Symphonic electronica (srsly) that makes me want to jump up and down like a child in bouncy castle; instead, I sit and appreciate the beauty of the textures, melodies, beats, and crazy-ass ideas. If you like the Chemical Brothers with a splash of Lemon Jelly, savour this work - especially the final 'suite' at the end.


Anastasis - Dead Can Dance

Not particularly memorable, but the fact that DCD have even done any new work recently makes me happy - again I feel like each time I discover some artist, they release an album after an Aion (hate how you'll never get that pun). Not a bad album at all - enjoyable.

The Best of Focus - Hocus Pocus

Focus: a band I like, and I've only heard this album once. Extremely inventive and original. Should give them more of a go.

Black Earth - Bohren and der Club of Gore

I find their music absolutely perfect for 3 AM. Sounds like Lynch jazz - cool and menacing. One of those bands who I find it a shame you haven't heard yet because I think you'd like their stuff.


Blue Velvet Soundtrack

Obviously good

Bromst - Dan Deacon

Fucking bananas but I love it to bits. This video is strangely canonical. If I could describe this album as a whole, it would be cartoon dance.


The Colourful World - Ashok Pathak

Indian classical - improvised sitar playing. Shame it's sort of cliched and Beatles-raped because it's a really soothing, mind-opening sound.

Conatus - Zola Jesus

Zola Jesus is one of my favourite discoveries this year. Out of her albums I own this is her newest, and possibly my least favourite. Her voice can render most songs palatable, however. I enjoy the album but don't go mad over it. I hope she makes it because she's extremely talented.

Concerto for Sitar and Orchestra - Ravi Shankar

More nice Indian classical (obviously)

Constellations - Balmorhea

Cool ambient stuff.

The Dark Knight Rises Soundtrack - Hans Zimmer

Enjoyable - the highlight for me being 'Imagine the Fire'. Interesting and spectacular sounds - it's just a shame that he spares the more avant-garde aspects of the scoring that he did for the Joker in the Dark Knight.

Days are Gone - Haim

One of the hipster bands at the start of 2013 who everyone tipped for worldwide stardom. I enjoy this whole album. It's pop, but with a sophistication to it that makes it stand out from other pop records. I can't pin down why I like it so much, but I do. I think it's nostalgia - they deliberately use a mid-nineties sound, echoing that of En Vogue, whilst retaining a more contemporary feel, eschewing gimmick (ok now I'm talking shite) and yet the fact it's three females in the band isn't particularly of interest - compare that to the sexualisation of most female pop singers these days. It's fucking sad tbh.


Dead Cities, Red Seas and Lost Ghosts - M83

Disappointing album made before one of my favourite albums ever, Hurry Up We're Dreaming.

The Happiness Project - Charles Spearin

Was pretty sure I discovered this in 2012 but evidently not. To me, this is one of the most original albums ever made. It also inspired by own Shitler, Fuck's Sake piece, an important work in my own canon. I can't recommend the album enough: it seems to show humanity in all its beauty. The way he makes melody out of voices is somehow profound to me, suggesting even in our banal exchanges we create music. One that always amuses me is the track with a little girl whining to her dad about having butter on her bread. It's called Ondine. Weird name.


Hesitation Marks - Nine Inch Nails

Same thing with Dead Can Dance: glad he's doing it, but mostly mediocre imo. I like how happy he sounds, but I prefer his darker and ambient stuff. I really do think his work with Atticus Ross counts among his best, so to write him off as irrelevant is ignorant, and possibly quite dangerous.

I Started Out With Nothin and I Still Got Most of It Left - Seasick Steve

He's a bit like parmesan - probably smells bad, good with spaghetti, but after a while it starts to grate (yeah I couldn't be arsed to do this one properly). Cool if you like blues and old men going on about their amazing life.

If You Leave - Daughter

Ice-cold pop. Probably one of the best albums actually released this year. That said, I tend to only listen to one track, which I find both depressing and beautiful:


If You Wait - London Grammar

Strangely enough, the other album from 2013 comes straight after If You Leave on my iPod. Again, I like it, but I only listen regularly to one original song, and the other track I like is a cover of Nightcall from the Drive soundtrack.


Legend of Zelda

Pretty epic stuff, a few fan-made albums of their own approximation from Zelda music. Not your thing I know, but if you're vaguely interested this is a sample.


The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit

Peaceful kind of stuff, akin to Fleet Foxes - the problem is they're two 18-year old girls in thrall to Fleet Foxes, plus because they're kids their lyrics aren't the best. However, their harmonies are almost flawless.


Maggot Brain - Funkadelic

I like this album if only for one of the greatest pieces of guitar work I know. The guy was asked 'just imagine your mother died and play :)' and he did. The rest of the album is pretty cool funk, which I realise I do quite like - might try some more funk bands. The opening track, however, is a cut above the rest.


Marquee Moon - Television

A pretty cool post-punk album, without which most of the bands from the early eighties who were any good wouldn't have been good, if that makes sense. One of the things I'm discovering right now is how often I just listen to one song from the albums I like which also happen to be ten minutes long. The track itself is called Marquee Moon. Cba to link.

MBV - My Bloody Valentine

Wtf man, yet another album from an old band released a million years after their last. The only track I really like is nothing but a pumping mass of sound, within which are discreet layers that come and go. I know they're a noise band, but most of the time I can only tolerate their noise for so long. Fortunately this track doesn't go on for too long. Overall an OK album but somehow defeats the mystique of My Bloody Valentine after the masterpiece of Loveless. Regarding this track, I think the top youtube comment nails it:

I kept waiting for it to build into something but it was just a troll.. still pretty cool sound


what he doesn't realise is that the track is already at its peak and can only add and take away layers. There is method behind the madness. Damn I've written far too much over this album.

The Money Store - Death Grips

I really, really don't get why this album was so popular. It's pretty much the worst album in my whole collection.

Music for Egon Schiele - Rachel's

Rather lovely neo-classical. Allmusic does a better job than I do:

Music for Egon Schiele is a welcome change of pace for anyone bored with popular music forms, transporting the listener's mood entirely. Rachel's weaves a delicate but highly moving musical fabric that wraps itself around you tightly and pulls you in, simultaneously cradling you lovingly while haunting you with its melancholy ambiance.

New Amsterdam - Zola Jesus

Raw, Siouxsie-like wailings and screams. I like it.

Oblivion Soundtrack - M83

Having not seen the film, the music is just abstract and I like it that way. Sounds like the Tron soundtrack, which isn't a bad thing. I like the title track - the woman's voice is wonderful imo, and I'm going to download some of her stuff.


An Omen EP - How to Destroy Angels

Listened once; didn't inhale.

Once I Was An Eagle - Laura Marling

Right, so... something happened to me having heard this album countless times. I actually went to see her live, I loved this album that much. And she trolled me: having played the first five songs, she hardly played any more from the album. I find this album a thing of wonder. Lydian strummings, voice like Karen Carpenter and Joni Mitchell combined: lyrics pouring forth with sophistication far beyond her years - guitar ability astonishing, a backing band augmenting the modality and mood: a warmth on the record that sounds like nothing else. I wouldn't go so far as to say she's a genius, but if she is able to produce three albums as good as this, I would call her that. I cannot believe a twenty year old kid from England can make music like this and not be famous. Once more, Youtube does a better job describing than I can:

Song #2 of my year end daily most influential music I've listened to the last few years.


Only Revolutions - Biffy Clyro

Bangin'. Rock music you can't fuck with. And yet these are incredibly catchy pop songs. Pretty cohesive album too.


Dat ending

Also I wish I could get away with looking like that

Pale Blue Dot - Benn Jordan

Wonderful ambient. An album named after Carl Sagan, therefore it earns intellectual points.

Palmless Prayer/Mass Murder Refrain - Mono and World's End Girlfriend

Excellent neo-classical doom-laden work. Much better from World's End after the shit that was their last album.


Just discovered this was made in 2005. Thought I was hip and keeping up with the latest stuff. Shit.

Poo - Me

My attempt to make a concept album about poo. Only one track I like: and that's Shitler.

Queen of Siam - Lydia Lunch

Early eighties new wave. Thought I might have found a new Siouxsie, but no. It's just blah.

Relish - Joan Osborne

What if God was one of us? Weirdly that's not actually the best song from the album, and weirder still, none of the others have much to do with religion. I really like her bluesy style here, and was pleasantly surprised. Still feel weird listening to her though - feels like I'm going to be sucked back into the 90s.

Requiem for My Friend - Preisner

Pretty classical piece that was used in the Three Colours trilogy. Yes, that's how much of a ponce I am.

Scheherazade - Rimsky-Korsakov

Album I bought out of annoyance that I couldn't identify a piece of music in University Challenge. I love the story about a guy who had a toddler who called music 'nuu' and when he put this piece on, the kid swayed side to side, closed his eyes, and said blissfully, "nuuuu....."

School Album - Me

It's a great album. Hangs together well. Somehow my mono-voice contrasts with the guitar to create a strange mix of drama and musicality. Since quitting as a teacher, this album has a strange thing for me - especially one track I recorded when I was breaking down during the teaching course. Opening lines include "God, you're a mean condescending cow" aimed at one of the teachers trying to make me less shit. I still feel bad for sucking so much at that job. In a way 2013 was the first year where I pretty much gave up on career ambition, and as a result I feel like I'm half the man I was about fourteen months ago. Damn.

Album available on request. :P

The Secret Eye of L.A.Y.L.A.H. - ZERO KAMA

Possibly my weirdest album: an album played entirely with bones. I'm tired now but read the review if you're interested


Shaking the Habitual - The Knife

A band I love and will always love. This album is incredibly difficult at times to listen to: it's a mess, but a beautiful mess. Steve loves it, and that's cool - I happen to have picked out certain tracks I really like. They're fast becoming an industrial band, a noise band, a I-haven't-really-got-a-fucking-clue-anymore band, and I'm enjoying the journey, but am afraid they're going to go somewhere I can no longer follow. To quote Youtube once again:

 I think she's trying to create a reality where she can morph herself into different personas (including a male one), to play with the concept of gender relations. She's been doing this all over the show


Spiderman of the Rings - Dan Deacon

Seems like a long time since I first heard his work. This album was an excellent starting point. Cartoon dance, electronica-wank, I don't know anymore. I just know it makes me happy and I love it. Wham City is the highlight for me. Cba to youtube link anymore because there's no reason why you should click on any links - it's me being forceful like a knob.

The Spoils - Zola Jesus

Recorded in her lounge and sounds like it - however, it works. Sounds like a maiden shrieking from Hell. That, or it just sounds like a singer being cool.

Stormcock - Roy Harper

Not bad... for a paedophile.

Stridulum II - Zola Jesus

Fucking love this album. Seems like a classic to me already, even though it's fairly recent. Every track is a potential single. Channels Siouxsie to the nth degree, refining her sound to expand into a new Gothic - one tinged with the mark of technology, alienation and modern loneliness. A sound markedly improved from that of The Spoils era. Synths and her go together perfectly. If you don't fall in love with her a little after listening to this album, then I don't know anything anymore.


Symphonies of the Planets 1 and 2 - NASA Voyager Recordings

It's space. The sound of space. So many times I've used this to get to sleep. Really weird to hear space. If you like music that's about as far out of music as you can get, I recommend this. It's eerie.

Tactical Neural Implant - Front Line Assembly

I have their discography and this is the only album I've listened to. I recall liking it on first listen but not enough to return to. A bit too discoey for me. Apparently it's a classic. Sounds like Pretty Hate Machine but a bit shitter to me.

Technology is a Dead Bird - Mars Argo

Every time I hear this album, a part of me wants to say "awww, have the little hipsters discovered Baudrillard?" but refrain from doing so because, after all, they're pretty talented and who am I to be a cunt? My favourite track is the final one, ending with the automated voice that runs through the album deciding it just wants to go to sleep. It's all rather Radiohead, but with the irresistible female vocal compensating for over-earnest naval gazing, it works as Radiohead chic. Plus it has the phrase "selfish chin" in it for some reason.

I think I shall just put myself to sleep


Tempel - Colour Haze

Fucking awesome stoner rock. Highly recommended. This is one of my favourite tracks of the year.


Tempest - Bob Dylan

It's alright that he's just making new stuff. It's not shit, at least.

The Very Best of Grateful Dead - The Grateful Dead

I tried. I don't get it.

Vespertine - Bjork

Pretty good but Bjork just annoys me and I don't know why. I know she's great but I can't get over the fact that she's Bjork. Does that make any sense?

Welcome to the Pleasuredome - Frankie Goes to Hollywood

Really poor album - the reason why the singles were so fantastic is because of the remixing work of Trevor Horn: sadly the versions even on the album aren't as remixed as they were when released as singles. I was honestly taken aback by how shit the album was, with one single track excepting, which was 'Welcome to the Pleasuredome', a pretty cool ten minute thing. Apart from that, this band should have been called Trevor Horn and The Scouse Cunts.

Wonderful, Glorious - Eels

Another good album from E. I'm pleased that he's happy. I kind of want him to be sad again though, because... he makes better music that way.

Zen Arcade - Husker Du

Tried it - nah.

This year I'll give The Birthday Party and Neil Young more of a go I think.

My Top Five Albums Discovered This Year:

1. Once I Was An Eagle - Laura Marling
2. America - Dan Deacon
3. Bromst - Dan Deacon
4. The Happiness Project - Charles Spearin
5. Days are Gone - Haim

Playlist That I've Played Too Much:

Aquamaria - Colour Haze
Get Up, My Daughter - BRST Female Choir
Youth - Daughter
Prettyboy - Dan Deacon
In the Yard, Behind the Church - Eels
Sunset - Kate Bush
Ice-Pulse - Cocteau Twins
Panoramic - Atticus Ross
The Leaves are Gone - Secret Machines
Oblivion (ft. Susanne Sundfor) - M83
Frozen - Madonna
Just Couldn't Tie Me Down - The Black Keys
Gold Dust Woman - Fleetwood Mac
Symphony No 3. Finale - Saint-Saens
Finale from Salome - Richard Strauss
Reaching Out - Kate Bush
Persephone (The Gathering of Flowers) - Dead Can Dance
Kids Are Little People - Luthor and the Hand People
Tired Today - Mars Argo
The Legend of Zelda Main Theme - Nintendo
Pur ti miro - Monteverdi
In Search of Peter Pan - Kate Bush
The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie
Wally, Egon, and Models in the Studio - Rachel's
Andy - Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention
Bubbles - Biffy Clyro
Ulysses - Dead Can Dance


Fuck it - Time's End by Theophany is one of the above-mentioned Zelda albums, but is a fantastic record in itself, regardless of whether you've played the game.



Saturday, 28 December 2013


Two Balrogs just hanging out in Utumno* playing chess.

- Alright mate.
- How's it going?
- Not bad. They reckon Morgoth's made off with that big spider thing.
- Made off with?
- You know. Him and her are like...
- Seriously?
- Yeah.
- But she's a spider.
- Yeah.
- A really big spider.
- I know. He's kinky like that.
- Don't be stupid. Ungoliant is a terrifying monster.
- I think she's lovely.
- Whatever floats your boat.
- What do you think they're doing together? You think he's gonna bang her?
- Going after the Silmarils, the most important life essence in all of Arda.
- Them again?
- I know.
- I hope he know's what he's doing. She's got a reputation.
- Man-eater I bet.
- Destroyer of reality. Light-eater more like. She both hates the light and devours it to satiate the void within herself.
- I'll fill her void anytime.
- She's fucked up, mate. He'll give her the slip when necessary.
- I'd slip her one.
- Give her the one... silip.
- Silip?
- As in Silmaril... nah, that doesn't work.

A scream is heard.

- That was a fucking loud scream.
- That sounded like the boss.
- Shit, you're right. Must be having a whale of a time.
- Shut up.
- Fine. Remember where we were. Let's go.

They arrive at the site of the scream.

- A hundred leagues to get here. That scream was really fucking loud.
- Yeah, you already said that.
- I'm going to name this place 'Lammoth' after that scream. Sounds pretty metal.
- She... what the fuck? She's trying to eat him. Then, she's going to eat us!
- We have to do something. My god, she's gigantic.
- A BBS, they call that. Big, beautiful spider.
- We need to intervene.
- He's got it under control. Getting used to handling the big black booty, that's all.
- Mate, he just screamed so loudly we heard it a hundred leagues away and you actually named this site after it. Fuck is wrong with you?
- I dunno. I'm entranced. Why, what do you want to do?
- The usual! Get your flames and whips out.
- You think she's into that?
- Fuck's sake. Oh look, she's gone. You scared her off.
- Oh man, she looked at me and everything with those big brown eyes.
- Black eyes. As black as the Void itself. So black that it even scared the boss.
- Nah, he's fine, aren't you boss?

Morgoth: Well, fuck me.

- Oh.

Plus! Fun Bonus Tolkien Geek Facts:

1. Utumno is also known as Udûn (as in when Gandalf refers to the Balrog's 'flame of Udûn' in Moria)
2. Udûn is a Sindarin word meaning 'Hell'.

pretty cool yt comment about sauron scene in DoS

NERD ALERT. This scene is great and really shows us the power difference between Maiar (lesser spirits...Sauron's master Melkor, later Morgoth, was a Vala, a much more powerful level of spirit). The istari (aka wizards, all maiar) were sent to Middle Earth not to fight Sauron through force of arms but to guide the free peoples of middle earth to defeat him through cunning as regarding military might Sauron was much too strong, especially by the time of the Lord of the Rings (some 60-70 years after the Hobbit). Power for power Olorin (Gandalf) is way below the level of Sauron, one of the mightiest of the Maiar alongside Eonwe. In the Silmarillion we even read that Gandalf was afraid of Sauron. In this scene we see he really doesnt stand much of a chance, not alone, even against a weakened Sauron. I cant wait for the next movie...they better make good of the White Council's attack on Dol Guldur! Potential for so much epicness!

Friday, 27 December 2013

4,000 words

i wrote the title and the story ended up being something else

might continue if you like it

beginning few paragraphs are a bit difficult i suspect but its ok by the end

Fake Geek Girl

"I recall one time I was playing a game with a friend and my then-girlfriend sat on Skype waiting for me to come back so she could moan about this or that. I recall how much more fun it was to argue with my friend than it was to argue with her."

So began my boyfriend Adam, describing to me in the most earnest, rational, down-to-earth way he could why he liked computer games instead of the things normal people like. Me, I just don't get it. In high school I was pretty much friends with everyone; and, whilst aware that there were geeks in the school, I assumed they were happy enough being the way they were - I didn't have much in common with them, and they had a habit of looking me up down in a bit of a creepy way - so basically I didn't talk to them that much. When I did though, I always felt a sense of taking pity, or talking to an alien, or something.

Like that guy Ian who was in my Science class in Year 11 - he'd always insist on putting his hand up and giving the answers - he was never wrong, and always looked satisfied when did it, as if he knew he was smarter than the rest of us. The problem for him was - we let him get away with doing that because we all knew that this class was the only place where he was happy. He had no friends. He wasn't even a geek - he was a loner. And, really, he was also a loser. What he needed was someone to kick him up the arse and explain why he had no friends. I mean, his hair. Big and curly. No one has had big and curly hair since Justin Timberlake back when he was in N-Sync. And Ian had this helper person sitting next to him who was quite good with him, but who you could tell sort of was quite similar and probably wondered why he was in the job he was.

So that was as far as my opinion was of the geeks at school: a mixture of revulsion and pity. I knew they were clever, but I also knew there was something missing. That humanity we all shared, they didn't seem to share. When we had big dos on like at Christmas, they would be the ones standing in the corner, looking scared or sulky or sneery. I wanted to grab them, shake them, and demand that they take part, because we all wanted to get to know the real them, but I didn't because I was too busy trying to make sure I was having a good time. Which I did. I know you're looking for a punchline here - something along the lines of 'all the while I was actually cutting myself'. I wasn't. I understood why people did, but I figured it was a thing that mental people did when they couldn't cope with this or that. I made my friends, and still have those friends. I wanted nothing more than to be me, and to be happy, and I was, and I still am.

But my boyfriend Adam is different. He was a geek at school. And not the cool geeks who swanned around displaying their weirdness and intelligence confidently - no, he was the one who walks around with his head in his shoes and his hands in his pockets. He went to the same school as me, and to be perfectly honest, I didn't remember his name until we met up two years online. To me, the man I saw on the profile picture was a stranger; the name wasn't anything familiar to me. He has told me he knew my name, and always fancied me, but never had the confidence to talk to me because he figured I wouldn't be interested. Because I know he's more confident now, I made the joke "yeah, you were probably right", but he laughed sadly, so I felt bad and kissed him hard to make up for it.

Because I don't really understand it. I'm a woman, and the way I live is a mixture of morbid introspection, self-loathing over my body, mixed media messages always how I should be - sometimes I feel guilty just for wanting nothing more than kids - and monthly knocks on my door from Satan. When I look in the mirror and haven't got my make-up on, I wonder how anyone can possibly find me attractive. But then I hear a voice telling me that I shouldn't define by what others think - particularly what men think - and so I proudly display my face as it is, and he seems fine with it. But then if we're going out, he might ask if I need to get ready, and I realise he's politely asking me to put make-up on, and it's weirdly oppressive, even though maybe it isn't really oppressive, because after all he's right - if I go out, I do put make-up on, but that's my choice. That's my thing. Then the pendulum swings again and it occurs to me he's simply another puppet in the work of the patriarchy.

Then I wonder if talking about a patriarchy is just insane paranoia. Because every feminist I read seems to be perpetually unhappy. Ever read a feminist who writes "things are getting better" and leaves it at that? Well. That's just me, and I don't know whether I'm repressing myself via unintended self-hatred or just being normal. Because I do think of myself as normal. Perhaps to a geek like Adam me saying I'm normal is oppressive. What do I think normal is?

Normal is having friends.
Normal is going out.
Normal is going out with friends.
Normal is having hobbies that are fulfilling and satisfying.
Normal is having a job.
Normal is having kids, or at least a family you keep in contact with.
Normal is watching television, or reading.
Normal is not sitting inside a house by yourself for hours on end, playing the same computer game again and again, and only talking to friends through instant messaging. I'm right, right? Adam does that, and I just worry for him sometimes.

He tells me he's happier now than he's ever been, and whilst he doesn't say it, he thinks I'm so stupid that the final part of that sentence should be "because I've found you." I know he's trying so hard to be a nice person - he's certainly a lot more social and happy than he was at school - but I think inside, that same cold, hard veneer that was once part of his personality hasn't been taken away, but simply buried. Truth is, he needs me far more than I need him.

Oh, maybe that's just me being arrogant.

What maybe I mean to say is that I don't really know if he sees me and knows me as I am. I think, despite all his appearances to the contrary, he still thinks of himself as that geek from school who now is dating the prom queen (well, we had a dance, but I left early because I felt sick), and that actually I'm no more than a prop for his dreams and delusions. Like, I want kids, but he really doesn't want them. I can tell. He says in a sort of 'casual' way "sure, I'd like to have kids" but I don't think he really wants anything that means he can't satisfy himself and his own cravings and desires.

In short, he was a geek because he was selfish, morbidly introverted, and narcissistic. He still is, but he's managed to keep it under control. And sadly, I wonder whether the problem isn't with him, but rather with me. I don't love him, even though I've said I do. Instead, the feeling I have towards him is still the same feelings I've always had for geeks - a mixture of revulsion, pity... and, well, admiration I suppose. I admire his ability to be so knowledgeable. I admire how he's managed to at least make himself look more 'normal' - actually fuck the quotation marks - NORMAL than he used to. I admire how he's got a decent job - although secretly I don't know why he hasn't got a better-paid one. I admire his ability to hold me, comfort me, and say the right things. But again, there's the rub: he seems to be saying it by-rote, as if he's read a manual on how to treat a woman and is following it by the letter. He's trying so hard to do things right, and that's admirable, but... it's dishonest, and sadly it's creepy. I know - it's terrible - he's trying so hard to escape from the creepiness of his old days, but somehow he's making it even creepier. It's like seeing an ultra-realistic robot: you know it's trying its best to resemble a human, but the fact that it's getting so close to it makes it even creepier than a plain, simple robot.

So that's why I decided to try and unravel him. Because, truth be told, he fascinates me. He's my little project, my curiosity. Like I said before, I don't love him, but I'm very fond of him. Those first few months where we were a mixture of friends and lovers were the best. You know how it is. Getting to know someone is always exciting, especially when you get on so well. He was perfect, and I felt lucky that he seemed to like me as well. But now I don't know if I still feel so lucky. I wonder whether he would notice if someone picked me up and swapped me with another woman. A similar brand, but a brand he likes. Or stoically accepts. Like, I think sometimes he would react if I died. It's weird I know - but that's how the mind works sometimes. I can see him almost enjoying the funeral, enjoying the attention from everyone (particularly other women) and crying his tears just the right amount to illicit sympathy without coming across as repellent and melodramatic. Then, when it was logically right to do so, he would shut off his emotions and continue with his life, feeling like he'd profited from having managed to sustain a loving relationship.

I am disgusted by these thoughts, and yet I can't shake them. Perhaps he's a sociopath. The doctors he went to told him he was schizoid, which I suppose was the first sign I got that all was not right in his world. He told me this quite early on, and was very honest about it, but I didn't really understand, and just wanted him to feel reassured that I loved him whatever he had, and then I put it to bed. I wish I hadn't. I looked it up and it was him down to a tee. But that wasn't enough. I didn't want to just put up with this - I wanted to make him better, to save him from the path he was going down.

So I decided to embrace the geek culture. I let him show me all his episodes of Doctor Who, all the Star Wars films, and I nodded along when he told me how bad they were. I listened when he explained to me at length how his prequels would have gone, and I tried my best to be enthused but I just wasn't ready to hear it. I wanted to grab him like I wanted to grab Ian at school, and just say "What the hell are you telling me this for? I don't care!" but I didn't. I understood that Adam didn't know how little I cared. I suppose he trusted me when I said I was interested. So, taking that trust on board, I keep showing enthusiasm.

I watched Babylon 5. I read his fan-fiction. I watched Star Trek, and Lord of the Rings, and Battlestar Galactica - you name it, I watched it. I listened as he relayed stories of his childhood spent doing fantastical drawings and stories, and how he still wished to be an author. I had read some of his stories, but they seemed pretty weird. Of course, seeing as he was intelligent, I could appreciate the depth of the vocabulary, but sadly the quality just wasn't there. And, me being me, I didn't have the heart to tell him. How could I? What did I know? Perhaps I was afraid he would get angry and ask that exact question to me, making me feel pathetic and unnecessary.

Unnecessary was the word that sprang to mind when he continued to show me into his world. He could have been showing this stuff to anyone. Not once did he seem to even look at me, or ask me any questions, or how I was feeling, or whether I was bored (even then I would have had to lie). No - he continued jabbering on and on. Over the course of a month I started to feel a measure of disassociation from the situation around me; anxiety for the first time in years infiltrated my senses.

That was the moment I made the connection.

This was exactly how Adam had felt in high school.

Those moments where I'd glimpse him looking sullen, pale and listless were, for him, moments of terror and severe alienation. The world - the normal world - did not make sense to him. Feelings, the heightened feelings of schoolchildren - and more notably schoolgirls - were for him the alien force. A world made up entirely of enemies. The hostility of ignorance. And me, sitting there feeling uncomfortable and irrelevant, escaping into my own thoughts - that was exactly how the real world made and perhaps still makes Adam feel. I knew it was correct, but still thought: how could this be? How does his brain work that he cannot find pleasure in the things that not only I do, but most people do?

Who could tell. Either way, I began to see the world from Adam's perspective. Sure, it seemed like he was ignoring me by not asking much about my feelings, but perhaps that was to him as much of a tiresome task as me asking him about who the fifth Doctor was or whatever. In other words: who cares? Emotions, for him and perhaps others, were not important, because emotions were part of that hostile environment that very early on in life he must have felt the need to escape from. Why he needed to escape from it, who knew. Biology, nature versus nurture... the usual arguments. This wasn't about science, but about the person right here, telling me about his passions, his interests - and the happiness that was shining through his face was worth the tedium.

So what came about of it? Well, I'll be honest, I ended up enjoying most of what he showed me. And I know the feeling when you like something and nobody around you does. Must have been horrible being the only kid in school who liked geeky stuff. Or maybe he wasn't, and unfortunately the nature of the geek is such that when they do find someone who is actually on their level, they're so used to introversion and escape that the sheer idea of belonging with and to someone else is incompatible with their instincts. Adam's instinct, I could tell, was to be alone. He liked me, as far as his adaptations to reality allowed him to. He had done well. Was it well enough? It didn't matter - I was still interested in my project, and so didn't take my time up trying to think about the future. That's probably how he liked it. Live for the moment. Enjoy sensory experience. Kiss two times a day. Withdraw when needed.

So, because my project was proving an amusing and enjoyable pastime from the mundanity of my day, I threw myself into it. I bought him geeky presents, and he bought me geeky presents. I watched films by myself and recommended them to him, and if he agreed, we'd watch them together. Part of our shared experience. I saw my friends when I wanted to, and left him on his own, and it was refreshing to know that he didn't mind that one bit. Sure, that part of me always wondered how he could be so cold and detached, but that was just how he was, and is.
"Okay, going out now, gonna be back in a couple of days!"
"Alright, see ya," he said. from his computer.
"I said days!"
"That's fine!"
I came into the room, hands on hips, trying to disguise my absolute fury.
"What is it?" The look of terror on his face made me feel like a monster. At the same time I was still mad so I had to continue.
"Don't you care that I said couple of days?"
"Yeah I noticed you said that, but I presumed you knew what you were doing or whatever..."
"People living together don't react that way when someone says a couple of days."
"I'm going to be back in the morning."
"Oh, right. So why did you say..."
"I was testing to see how you'd react."
"Why would you do that?"
Then of course, because he was steering it back to me, I responded, "It's not about me! It's about you and... whatever it is!"
"Right," he said, and got back to his game. "Well, see ya."
"Aren't you even going to..." I began, and then never got the chance to finish, because he stood up and gave me a frankly terrific kiss. "Well," I said, looking at his stubble, "I'm getting ready to forgive you."
"Cool," he said, taking his place once more on the chair, "so I'm forgiven?"
"I said... getting ready to." Irritation threatened once more, and it took a concerted effort to wipe it away. "I'll probably forgive you when I get back."
"Fine," I said.
"Are you still mad?"
"I am when you don't look at me."
"Sorry." He looked at me, smiled, and I smiled back at him, all the while thinking why I was still with this guy.

But, nonetheless, we continued, and I got geekier, until I was able to hold forth discourse on the role of the Ewoks in Jedi, and he was even delighted when I told him something he didn't know: that the Ewoks were only named in the credits. Of course he watched the whole thing again 'just to make sure'. The people I talked to at work didn't understand most of my references. It was like they had never used the Internet or anything. When someone told me to take a seat over there for a meeting, the entire room looked baffled as to why I burst into laughter. But never mind. It was nice to feel that superiority - of knowing there was a whole world of in-jokes and strange fascination unknown to common people.

My friends began to bore me a little with their constant talk of men, and babies, and babies, and men... I wanted to talk about the intricacies of My Little Pony's approach towards world issues but I knew I would be laughed at. I started to feel somewhat ashamed of my yawns when nine o' clock hit.
"You never used to go home," said Monica. "You've changed. Are you and your man trying for a baby or something?" which prompted the table to erupt into laughter, and blushes.
"How's that going, anyway?" said Bell.
"'That' is going fine, thanks," I said.
"Do you luuuurrrve each other?" said Dhjokdfodskcosdfjcim.
"It's... well, it's different. I don't know what to call it. We're companions in a shared experience. Our feelings are those of sponges: we absorb, and are glad of it. There are commonalities, and fantasies, and a shared quest for something sacred to share in once and for all. Sometimes when I read a story or watch a film, I want to feel part of that place, to experience something real - I say real, even though I know dragons and wizards and such are fake - what I mean is, to experience a story, where good and evil are clear, and you get to... to use swords." The lameness of the ending did not do justice to my original intention, but I guess it sufficed, because the table went quiet.
"You've become a geek!" said Lady Manganda III, raising her glass. "To geeks!"
The table gave a toast, and I could have cried. I was accepted. I was actually a geek, because they told me I was. I finally felt welcome. But at the same time...
I didn't feel oppressed.
I wanted to be rejected, or I wanted to have to explain myself, to justify my superiority with my words and knowledge. I didn't want to be loved - I wanted to be appreciated and intimidating. Normal people are so nice sometimes. That's the confusing thing. When can you tell whether someone is a good or bad normal person?

At this point I had to stop myself because I knew I didn't really believe these thoughts. These were the thoughts of Adam, and I had completely - well, almost completely - let myself assimilate him, and destroy my own identity.
"I'm not really a geek," I said quietly to Bella an hour and three glasses of wine later. "I'm just pretending in order to get along better with Adam."
"Why," she said, taking a drag.
"I don't know."
"Is he worth it?"
"Not really."
"What do you want from your husband?"
"I thought I knew. I don't know anymore."
"He's not the man for you."
"If not me, then who?"
"That's a question he needs to be asking, not you. Listen. You are not here to be his mother. From what you've told me, I know the type. Mothered too much, you see. Thinks the world owes him a favour. You aren't that favour. I'm sure right now he's all sweetness and light but just wait. Soon will come the dominance and the coldness."
"I know the coldness. I know the attempts at dominance. He doesn't mean it that way. It's just his nature. I'm trying to change myself to adapt."
"Why should you? You were perfectly fine before. Look at you now - not even drunk. You barely talk to me anymore. When was the last time you called?"
I couldn't remember.
"Too long," she said. "I don't get it. He's not that great, and you've admitted that. So why bother? Find a man who appreciates you, and won't take you for granted. I'm not saying your boyfriend's a bad person necessarily, it's just he's that type of bloke who'll treat you like shit without meaning to."
I took a cigarette from her extended box and contemplated.

Probably best just to be friends. He is a bit shit in the sack.

Sunday, 15 December 2013

Diary of Óláfr Margaðrsen, 943 AD

August 31

On boat with crew. Nothing doing. We have sailed the seven seas, and there is nothing left to destroy. Time, it seems, wants nothing more to do with us. I petitioned a return to our homes, where our fortunes might at last correspond with that of our loved ones. The lands afar have promised little and delivered only material goods.
I have seen brown-skinned men flaying goats alive.
I have seen wondrous stalls selling exotic essences.
I have seen beautiful women with no limbs.
I have seen bears trapped in cages.
I have seen decadence. That is enough.
My home calls for me - my village. That is all. There is nothing more to be gained from this journey.

September 13

My wife, Úrsúla, is dead. My village has been destroyed. Nothing left but crumbs and ruin. Valdís, what did this to you? I cannot bear this suffering. Children lie burned and charred in the fields - those fields where I lay as a child watching the clouds. Those fields where I conquered my first woman. Those fields where I slayed my first sheep. Those fields where I felt the pangs of love, and saw the point of life. Now these fields are burned, and my people are either in exile or slain in their beds.
My children's heads stuck up on poles let me know this was a vendetta against me, and me alone.
They know I will take revenge.
They are expecting it.
It is a trap, but one I must fall into.

September 21

I have wandered far and wide, looking for allies. The Dead Mountain housed nothing but a holy man, who gibbered. First I headbutted him, then I took his necklace. Its bright colours pleased me. Inside the necklace hung a locket. Strange runes adorned its surface.
Up in the blue sky, the Skin Burner shone its screaming rays onto the surface and it pierced through my skull and I screamed.
I awoke, and saw the necklace's locket had opened, revealing a miniscule container. Opening this container yielded a black powder, as black as dragon's blood. A strange music seemed to fill the air, hinting at possibility. I took a tiny proportion of the powder and applied it to my tongue.
At once there came a great shaking in the Throat of the World. And another, taller, new peak arose from the mountain's gut. My horse, that I thought had died ten years before, appeared at my side and nudged me into riding it once more.
I rode my horse up the mountain diagonally until I reached the peak. Then I realised I had no horse and fell.
And I fell.
Through fire, and water, until I had no more name left.

September 30

This black powder is a toxic substance that gives rise to fantasy and wild swings in mood, as well as axe. I awoke after five days to find myself inside the mountain. There had been no new peak. There was only a hole, and I had fallen into it, and had lived inside this cave for five days. To my astonishment, during these blank five days, I had achieved feats beyond mortal understanding. Upon the walls were beautiful drawings, adorned from the chalk that lay scattered in and about the bone-ridden floor.
I gazed in wonder at the black powder. Then I re-housed it inside its locket prison and made my way towards an exit.

October 15

I am free. Free to find those who destroyed my village and slayed my family.
Also I need to remember to find some oxen. I like oxen.

October 25

I sit with the heads of twenty dead men scattered at my feet, and twenty women ready to satisfy my every need. My revenge is complete. How did I accomplish this? you ask.

I approached the camp at the dawn of the day, where only five or so men sat around eating chicken around a fire.
"Hail," said I, dropping my axe upon the floor and holding up my arms in surrender.
"Halt!" said the men, grabbing me and taking me to the leader of the camp - Þjóðbjörg, the enemy I had sworn vengeance against. The enemy who I had once called brother. Admittedly I was drunk at the time, but still.
He sat and cackled at my bedraggled appearance.
"You have no power here, Óláfr son of Margaðr! You look like you've raggled completely by a bed, and your hair is rubbish!"
I bowed, despite the voice in my head telling me to destroy his face.
"I cede to your wisdom, sire. You win all the battles we've ever had," I said. "You swim better than I did. You were right to slay my people, for they were inferior."
"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow - that of his lackey, Þórmundr the Twat.
"Yarp," replied I, bowing so lowly that my head smacked onto the floor and I passed out.

I awoke to see myself atop a cauldron, and where the cauldron lay was a fire. In other words, they had me up on a stick and were prepared to eat me.

"We did not believe you," said Þórmundr the Twat. "So the King ordered us to cook you over a cauldron of water." He then ran his axe down my leg, producing a thin cut that bled. I watched as the blood poured from my leg into the cauldron. I told myself this was all part of the plan, then it occurred to me my plan hadn't involved being put up on a stick.
"I have seasoning," I blurted. "Inside this locket."
The man took it out.
"Sire?" he asked the king, my foe.
My foe, the king, nodded.
Fortunately, whilst coming down from the mountain, I had crushed and then mixed some Tangleroot I had found into the locket.
Þórmundr the Twat took a taste, then held aloft the locket, grinning. "Ah! Tangleroot! The man wishes to render unto us what is ours! Let's make it so!"
"What does that actually mean?" someone said.
"Not sure, but it makes me sound evil."
He poured the contents of the locket into the cauldron.

Ten minutes later, it occurred to me that I was going to die. My plan, which had been to mess everyone up with drugs, grew less possible to carry out as I could feel my feet beginning to boil. But then something happened.

Possibility One:

Fortunately, Þjóðbjörg was evil, and consequently went too far in his evilness and sowed the seeds of his own downfall. 
"I want a soup starter!" he said. "Soup for everyone!"
And everyone ate the soup.

Possibility Two:

Fortunately, Þjóðbjörg was evil, and consequently went too far in his evilness and sowed the seeds of his own downfall. He wanted to mock me, and made me eat a ladle of the soup in readiness for my own doom. 

Either way, this happened.

The men, who ten minutes before had been sitting at ease, suddenly began to look at me with a strange gaze.

"Why are your teeth chattering so much?" one man said, eyes wide.
"I d-d-don't know," I said. "It's the cold."
"But you're over a fire!"
"I don't kn-kn-kn-know then, sorry."
Several men dropped their jaws and were silent. Some pointed at me as though I were one of the caged bears I had seen in Scotland, back when life meant something and I was a man with feelings.
"What is it?" I said.
"Your head... it's growing!"
"Oh," was all I could say.
"He roars!" shouted a man, backing away.
I laughed. At this point, I found myself emblazoned with a new strength: the strength of my fathers. The strength of my family. The strength of my pet goat, Friðþjófr. The strength and the fire that ran through my history. Hundreds of men had died in order to keep me alive, and it was my duty to avenge them. The looks of fear on the men's faces spurred me on, and I felt as though the stars themselves had come down from the heavens and filled me up with the wrath of the gods.
I gnawed the ropes, kicked over the cauldron, and dropped into a crouching position - right onto the flaming hot coals.
But the fire did not burn me.
The coals did not singe me.
The ashes did not choke me.
Those few men who had not begun to run could only stare, trembling, as I took hold of a fiery coal and let it crash between the biting waves of my shining teeth, letting the heat pass into my gut. Stepping forth naked from the flames, I grabbed the nearest item to hand (the cauldron) and threw it at a man.
"That's impossible," said the figure, before the cauldron smashed his body like a snail under a boot.

Nearby, Þórmundr the Twat lay on the floor, pleading for his life. I took out his eyeballs with my toes, then sliced his head away from his body using my cock.

My memory fails me at this point, but I know the next ten minutes passed in slaughter. The men ran, but I was able to catch them all, even though I was walking the whole time. That's how much power I wielded. I could find them all just and I didn't even have to run.

Þjóðbjörg was the last. He had chosen to sit slouched against The Rock of The Abyss, praying to his new god.
"Forgive me?" he said, as I approached.
His face, jelly-like in its pathetic, needy terror, glistened with cold sweat. My fire burned inside; snow melted before me as I strode. I had seen my family slain. I had watched my houses burn. For the last month my dreams had left me waking up screaming.
And all he could do was smile weakly at me. Couldn't even show me the full depth of his terror. No matter what I did to him, it would never be able to fill the gap left by my dead family. That was the nightmare in which I now strode.
Þjóðbjörg's face now filled my sight. Nothing else was necessary. My goal had arrived: and it was pissing itself.
"Join my nightmare," I said.
"May the Lord watch over me," he replied.
I filled his mouth with my blade.

As I strode to a new future, a vacant numbness filling my soul, there came a sobbing sound from behind me. With no more bloodlust in my body, I was become merely curious. 

A man lay cowering inside a ditch.
"Mercy," he cried.
"I am done with killing," I said.
His eyes told me that he no longer believed a word I said and would never believe anything rational in his life ever again. 
"What is your name?" he said.
I had lost my name whilst inside the mountain, so could only shrug.
"I... christen you."
"Christen me?" I laughed. "I want nothing to do with your new religion."
"No, you do not understand. I am only giving you a name. You are far beyond conversion."
"Oh right," I said, cheering. "What do you christen me then?"
"I christen you... Berserker."
"So be it."
He made the sign of the cross. "May children and women never see you again."
"Shit," I said, making to destroy him with my little finger, but he had scarpered and I cba to run after him.

For a while I was terrified of his curse. Fortunately, it didn't come true.

October 26

Found an inn. Had a wank. Prozzer came along: had to work harder than usual. Managed.

Thursday, 12 December 2013

Me, Generated.

Just saw your post called What Would I Say? and I used it. And I couldn't stop using it. For ten minutes I kept copying and pasting its results. I could have kept pressing 'generate' forever. Oddly difficult in this ordered age where you realise pure chaos exists and you can never get it back. I find it hard: I'm used to loops. It is usually a closed system these days in whatever situation. As I write this I am aware that I am going to tidy up the punctuation and maybe snip out a few words here and there, so that the words that were generated by the app and the words I'm arranging become almost interchangable to you because you will never be able to know the process of the arranging of the data. Already the chaos is being snipped away and yet that in itself creates a chaos in your own lack of knowledge. I have left some punctuation uncorrected. But then perhaps that's my deliberate trick making you think it's not been altered. Perhaps you might choose not to believe me when I say I copied and pasted the whole thing. Ultimately it doesn't matter: the text is practically of no purpose other than being mildly interesting. The odd phrase appears. If the cut-up was digital then perhaps it is automatically ordered. All life is digital now: all life is chaos. The Game of Life.
I like how one of the phrases that emerged from the ten minute generation was 'cut him up'. What are the odds?

Below is the sequence of ten minutes' generation.

Yeah, as a concentration camp for each other policeman like misery lipstick draped on the end. I love my nearest and banana sometime. And I choked on it. A BBC Panorama investigation has highlighted that I like the Chuckle Brothers but I like misery lipstick draped on a bored forty something wife. I had a particular section of consumer society that Fruit Gums are the original blend together with somehow, because it vomited up my ear. Then I remember having a photobucket Rose and Reuben met with the fake, the wave of the part of capitalism for, despite its appearances to American audiences and going mainstream. I hope so. I'm so yeah you're right on University Challenge and should feel bad... thanks for being Jewish. Kid looks depressed. Those Nazi guys cba, but good to know. Or maybe I felt better. Bricking it a tad. Don't want to say it, but then the lines if anyone notice? No. People How fun the smudged harshness of England. Oh man the window? Is an Irishwoman. Thanks for the hell of total submission to The hall. I passed by the speed of delivery. Whoever plasters over it, and realising that Question my student asked the results. Focus on some reason realising I now where's that the number of those outside, but also i need to have a wank. Perhaps read up spraining my left eyebrow was clearly evident for you. And I just implied I was watching tv, purred a black wall upon us ate a nutella and that. How's that peak. Glad at a representation, a promise of enthusiasm? will try to cut him up.

Hope the moving goes apeshit over there.” I turned around, and bemuses those outside, but write *,1 bottles, ' bottle of nausea that Made a mountain of a good steve? at GCSE level? In that so yes game of words ending in a play which the loft extension upstairs vomiting profusely for about to the same image. Maintenance of waste. A long time Managed the meat known to the floor. There is it drink time The man to the most scintillating cheeses known to the second part is a dog is going on Only a logical leap forward to google that going to be drinking some discomfort.” For indeed he did. Poor John! Also not really ok, I choked on it. That's speculative fiction for its products is the final moments of dear John’s life. aaaand it's just assumed had to shit myself a smoke, and adequate exercise. Spend time app that remotely stops your basket, and through the Great Hall of superhero.

It's been to him. Right, yeah. Easier to collapse from oxygen deprivation and how serious we will be more heroic and stopped. We passed him, and his pronouncement. It Thanks for a moment, invoking the feeling of a friendly way, blowing ‘em then. i like to me, pulling alongside. At least he was evidently looking for. It was obviously shocked. The doctor was out all dads rock, in their way, blowing ‘em into a brilliant turn of phrase but flitting in time. Adam Curtis made me realise that hope his testicles be realistic expectations and beautiful film... Just sat in anonymous factories anyway. And there that was going to win.

.... yeah.

I probably ought to just go to bed now. In 2004 I might have pretended this was something useful and creative. Now it's sadly just a way to waste what would have been a good hour of sleeping :\

Monday, 9 December 2013

fuck. i can't write anymore because i don't think i'm very good at it and don't see the point :(

Red Pissed

A sunrise behind the grey facade of St. Helier Avenue illuminates the surroundings in a red tint. The Dawn of the Third Day has nothing on this. Primal anger streams through sewer pipes, sucked up into taps, glugged by parched mouths and soaked up by grimy hands. Prickles of cortisol-based goosebumps scurry up the flesh and hairs rack against one another like anonymous soldiers bustling for attention. Corporal Adrenaline kickstarts the fight against intertia by propelling the flesh towards an intended target. Eyes sidle back and forth, establishing in milliseconds the potential risks, hazards, and imperatives of the situation. No time for hesitation. The decision has been made. He approaches and his mouth is open before his brain can override it.

"Miss, I need the toilet."

Monday, 2 December 2013

high-brow 'joke'

- I was diagnosed with alexithymia last week.
- Oh right, how do you feel about that?
- Dunno.

Thursday, 28 November 2013


Around the time I got the final dole check until the cut off point, the old man ran out of Post-its. The Post-its had been ckeeping him in check for a couple of years - without them, he’d have forgotten how to do most of the stuff he’d stopped getting used to a couple of years before. So if he needed to remember to turn a tap off at night, he would stick a Post-it on his bedroom door, so that he could go back and check. He used to leave the kitchen tap running. Stopped doing that when he put the Post-its on  his bedroom door.
Then he started forgetting to water the plants. He’d been into gardening since his thirties, and he attmpted to cut despair’s laugh off early as possible by leaving Post-its around to help him remember to do a job that hadn’t required Post-its a few years before but now did, therefore turning it from a job into an order. An order from his past self. I rang him one day and asked him to come watch Memento but he forgot to come round. Sent him a link of the final scene on Youtube - guess that did the job. Definitely managed to do the job when i asked him about it a week later and he’d forgotten.
The strange thing about dementia is that we force ourselves to see it as nothing other than suffering, when in fact forgetting can be blissful. If memory is not required in order to survive - if memory serves as nothing more than to serve the capitalist paradigm that keeps us under its yoke - then the senile are truly free. They always remember to eat. They always remember to drink. Maybe not in the final weeks, sure, but by then the mind has practically ceased to be sentient. Before that, however, all the hitherto precious memories of the present - such as being able to remember the Prime Minister of Palestine, if there is one - fade out to be replaced by insane static. Insane, yes, but unhappy? I’m not so sure. My dad never lost his memories of childhood, which tells me something i already suspected - that adulthood is nothing more than a looking-back at the most real and true years of our lives.
Childhood, that timeless age where fear and happiness were more extreme than they’d be again, is indelibly stamped upon us, even in insane times. We escape back into that extremity of emotion to remind us that we were once alive. We, the sane, are dead in our short-termism. What is really important? We castigate and chide children for placing emphasis on unimportant things such as ice cream and jelly, but what is life than sensory pleasures? Sex is to the adult what ice cream is to the child - joyful. No more, no less. We are not really developed - we’re just better communicators, for a while at least.
Then communication’s bridges are burned, for whatever reason, and we cease to extend ourselves and retreat. For that is all that dementia is, really: the mind retreating, accepting its defeat against death. Nothing is more peaceful than a mind unaware of its body’s shortcomings. And so death is no longer dreaded, for nothing is known and nirvana is attained in life. The nirvana of forgetfulness.

Annoying how he shits himself though.

Wednesday, 27 November 2013

wiki entry about the singer of korn

In the early 2000s, Davis began collecting serial killer art and memorabilia. In 2005, he was considering starting a serial killer museum with Arthur Rosenblatt but pulled out of the deal, leading Rosenblatt to sue him. The litigation was ultimately resolved successfully by Ed McPherson, Davis' attorney. Davis later denounced the items and got rid of them.

not good enough to send as an email but i felt the need to record it as a mildly amusing thing somewhere

Sunday, 24 November 2013

god damnit

>having a sunday morning wank
>sister arrives with nieces
>can no longer wank
>feel obliged to post about it on blog that is potentially available for anyone to see although only one person reads it atm
>twenty years pass
>boss finds blog
>fires me
>am homeless
>live under a bridge
>decide it's time for a wank
>sister comes along with now twenty-four year old nieces
>i consider continuing my wank
>i don't
>although it would have been funnier

Saturday, 23 November 2013


Supple flesh. Muddy flop. Sodden boots. War. War mingled and mixed together until all got confused. We had lived through the Great War, the Shit War, the Cold War, the Hot War (and its sequel) and now had run out of ideas, so we decided to create a franchise.

The war to end all wars destroyed Europe’s progress since 1789. In a collective act of self-sabotage, Europe decided it didn’t want to progress for a while and as a result there were trenches. We the historians, so sure of our narrative, created curriculums based around the certainty of the entire war’s uselessness. Marshall Haig was the new Guy Fawkes. Always easier to teach narratives than occurrences. Haig was no more responsible for the deaths in the war than anyone else. His name just happened to be attached to it as an easy spacegoat.

Yes, spacegoat. Like Laika the dog, Haig the spacegoat was launched to general acclaim by General Acclaim and later found fame as being part of the easter eggs within the long-defunct Akklaim Studio’s Mortal Kombat II; alongside the ‘toasty’ reward there rested a goat whose stoic sprite would greet the use of an Animality straight after a Babality. This goat was named after Field Marshall Haig for reasons unknown - nevertheless the goat would live up to its name by grabbing a machine gun and, after greeting the arrival of every character in the game, lined up a submarine gun and dropped ‘em.

Yes, submarine gun. The submarine gun was developed on board U-Boot 442 in October 3rd, 1940 by Feldwebel Adam Staugerstacht, a man who liked to spend his time extracting meaning from the arrangements of dust upon the floor of the officers’ mess, proclaiming that the arrangements were evidence of a self-sustaining model of life forms arranging themselves in mimicry of Ulam and von Neumann’s cellular automatons. This was destroyed when Hans Joachim decided to walk all over the dust and laugh, before pointing out that the classification as outlined by Wolfram was one of four distinct categories, one of which was cellular arrangement in a chaotic fashion; seeing as the dust was not based on a Turing machine’s process, it was the third classification of chaos and of no interest to anyone except ‘saddos’. This, he said, justified the fact that he had taken it upon himself to piss on the floor. Staugerstacht was later recorded on the log as comparing Joachim to a ‘gnat’ before nibbling ‘like a gerbil’ on a nearby ‘thing’.
As a result of this collision of egos, the U-Boot was forced to return home after threats of mutiny from the crew. The men on board would later go into careers as soap.

This was going to be something interesting but I got distracted by a couple of typos.
“That was what God said in Eden. “
“Oh ho!”
I got distracted by a couple of hippos, actually, says God. God created man, but hippos came along and shat everywhere. Then they ate Adam and Eve. As a result we are descended from the atoms of two dead humans that were found inside a hippo’s poo. A hippoo, if you will. They died for our sins. Jesus attempted to tell everybody about it by going to find a hippo and let it eat him but he was wisely informed that it might be more dignified if he was crucified. Unicorns appeared in the Bible. This alone is evidence enough to backup the claims by recent historian Edgar Lol that it was the intervention of hippos that prevented Earth from becoming a Garden of Eden. He also cites the game Hungry Hungry Hippos as being a message from a secret sect as to the true fate of humanity during those formative years.

Ah, the formative years. The trauma sustained by our collective conscious. Neuroses caused by original sin. Should never watch your parents have sex - they fuck you up, your Adam and Eve. They were caught Larkin in the bushes. I don’t know where I’m going with this, said Edgar Lol, but wrote his thesis anyway - a theosophical study of the link between unicorns, hippos, Field Marshall Haig, Sodom, Gomorrah, and the weird clicking noise your throat makes when you haven’t drunk enough water. Lol later discovered to his delight that all these pointed to one truth and one truth only: that all souls are equally important, no matter where their bodies may be located. That was why, finding himself sipping a cocktail in Vilna, he felt comfortable enough to burst into a million tears over the flavour of the Coke that had been offered to him. When asked by concerned onlookers what the matter was, he could only sob “This Coke so beautiful - why is it only us who can enjoy it? Why can’t my grandfather’s ghost enjoy it? Why couldn’t Emperor Napoleon enjoy this, seeing as he was such a hard-working man? Why couldn’t Jesus get this? Why couldn’t the men dying on the Somme get this?”

And presently, a wavering image of Coca-Cola’s logo appeared before Lol’s eyes, and it told him in a strange but cosy voice that Coca-Cola was a front for a group of freedom fighters throughout history who have attempted to right the wrongs of all of humankind’s mistakes, and that the only way to tell what was a mistake and what wasn’t was to use time machines disguised as vending machines.

The first mistake identified by Employee 3432 was that Coca Cola had been invented far too late in humanity’s development to affect anything: the year 2344 to be exact, at which point there was only one man alive left on earth, and as he died of radiation poisoning caused by the war that had decimated humanity in its race for resources, he dropped the vial containing the holy liquid he had made in order to save humanity. As it trickled into his lips, which lay cracked upon the tiled floor, the final expression he bore was a smile. According to his biographer, a skeleton, this lamented saviour’s last words were “It’s the real thing.”

“Wait a minute,” said Lol to the Coca-Cola, “If the world ended that day, why and how could anyone have sent Coca-Cola back from the future to the present day?” He felt unsure about everything, especially as to why he as a stupid character had been kept around and not the guy at the start. And also what happened to the fucking hippos?
“Because we sent a man forward in time,” said the deep but wise voice of Coca-Cola.
“But that’s not possible, because you didn’t exist yet.”
“You’re right. But, like God, we somehow existed anyway. I think we created parallel universes a while ago and are able to jump between worlds. My PA just googled it and yep. We totally can do that. Did you like my pun. Can. You humans are so lame. I remember in ’85 we accidentally confused two of our parallel universes and ended up sending New Coke into this universe instead of keeping it in the other one. For a moment it seemed as if your reality would fall apart. People moaned. People groaned. People fought. People played draughts. People caught colds. People bought bowls. People
“Go on.”
“We fixed the problem. We managed to implement Coke as part of the USA’s winning formula in World War Two. Prior to our intervention, the USA didn’t have the morale or self-belief to win the war, and as a result, in 1942, we decided to head back home in a move that ended up losing the war. Sure, humanity survived the whole ‘fuck, the Germans won’ thing, but generally speaking it was the start of a slippery slope. The kind of slippery slope that leads to people like you no longer existing.”
“What do you mean, people like me?” said Lol.
“Well, my point is that you’re mixed-race, right? I’m okay to say that, yeah? We recently ran an advert showing our adherence to the values of the black community, so you don’t need to call me racist. I mean, our drink is black - you can’t get any more fucking racially aware than that, you know what I mean?”
“You do realise I’m a theosophist who has never set foot inside a... what are they called? Projects?”
“That’s the difference between you and I,” said Coca-Cola, shaking its fizzy head sadly, “You don’t believe in the power the multinational corporations can make to people’s lives. I intervened and won World War Two. But my work was not done. I intervened to stop World War One from also being won by the Germans. Unfortunately, doing so also altered the future. Before that, World War Two had only resulted in 10 million deaths. Now, it resulted in 100 million. So we went back again, and didn’t intervene as much in World War One as we did before. For whatever reason, we achieved a balance. Now, we’re working on going all the way back to the beginning of the 20th century and stopping World War One from ever happening.”
“You do realise how much you’re messing things up, right?” said Lol. “If you keep going farther back, you’re going to have to correct your mistakes all over again in the future.”
“We don’t think that way. We just do things because we want to, and because we think it will increase sales. Ultimately, our responsibility lies with our shareholders, who exist in the century from where we originate. If what we do in this reality ends up having a positive impact on our shareholders in our own time, then we keep it that way - thing is, we always need to show growth, and development. So if my boss tells me that it was great what we did back when we stopped the Eiffel Tower from being bombed in ’40 but we kind of need to stop Notre Dame from being pissed on, then I will.”
“Pissed on, eh?” said Lol, stroking his chin thoughtlessly. “Sic.”
“That too. Rowdy Frenchmen, drinking their absinthe. Ever tried absinthe with Coke?”
“Didn’t think so. We tried running it in Paris in 1920. Caused seizures. Within a week the entire population had died of autoerotic asphyxiation. We presume it was something we’d done.”

Thursday, 21 November 2013

today i learned about youtube poop

suddenly i feel like the internet is alive again

look up 'youtube poop pride patties' on youtube - i'm physically hurting from laughter :\

Well this is Fucking Awkward

The other week I was talking to Louise and was for some reason showing what an angry kid would do - I punched the table and then said "well obviously he wouldn't fist the table." Then, instead of letting it go, I said, "Well, not fist the table." She blushed completely red and I don't remember what happened next.

Today we were looking at the IEPs (don't ask) of each student. One kid's said "He will learn to pull out and identify operations in mathematics." Completely blithely and without realising the implications of what I was saying, I said "That's a weird phrase - pull out. Numbers I mean. Er, anyway."

This time I didn't acknowledge what I had done. I wish I had.

I wish I had.


Monday, 18 November 2013

Disturbing Coincidences

Crap Coincidence #1

For the last few weeks I've been noticing an itchy spot on my stomach, it's like eczema, except it's actually an infection of some kind because I'm a fat git. In English today, during the reading out of The Twits, it said something like

"Mrs. Twit scratched her tummy, because people as fat as her always have an itchy tummy."

Much Better Coincidence #2

In tutor time I was showing the kids some videos, and one of them had a woman in it called Sally Callahan.

At this point a boy called George, who's eleven, and knows next to nothing about anything, suddenly pipes up "like Harry Callahan! Dirty Harry!"

The odds of him knowing not only Dirty Harry but his actual name are like you or me suddenly piping up "Oh! That's the new track from Little Mix!" or something when we're in a club, except we never go to clubs, ever.

So anyway, that was weird. The next lesson, which this student was not part of, was English. The teacher was reading The Twits and he read passages describing Mr. Twit. At this point he asked the class to come up with some words describing Mr. Twit.

To my horror, right next to one another, these words appeared:


Friday, 15 November 2013

fgfdgfdgfdgsfdg more redddit crap

Bob: Hi, insurance company. I'd like to buy some health insurance.
Insurance company: No. You had cancer when you were 3 years old, and the cancer could come back. We're not selling health insurance to you.
Bob: It's not my fault I got cancer when I was three! Besides, that was years ago!
Insurance company: If we sell insurance to you, we'll probably lose money, and we're not doing it.
Bob: But I need insurance more than anyone! My cancer might come back!
Insurance company: We don't care. We're not selling you insurance.
Obama: Hey, that's totally not fair. Bob is right, he does need insurance! Sell Bob some insurance.
Insurance company: If we have to, I guess.
Mary: This is cool. Obama said the insurance company has to sell insurance to anyone who needs it.
Sam: Hey, I have an idea. I'm going to stop paying for health insurance. If I get sick, I can always go buy some insurance then. The insurance company won't be able to say no, because Obama's told them they have to sell it to anyone who needs it!
Dave: that's a great idea! I'm not paying for health insurance either, at least not until I get sick.
Insurance company: Hey! If everyone stops paying for insurance, we'll go bankrupt!
Obama: Oh come on Sam and Dave, that's not fair either.
Dave: I don't care. It saves me money.
Obama: Oh for god's sake. Sam, Dave, you have to keep paying for health insurance, and not wait until you're sick. You too, Mary and Bob.
Mary: But I'm broke! I can't buy insurance! I just don't have any money.
Obama: Mary, show me your piggy bank. Oh, wow, you really are broke. Ok, tell you what. You still have to buy insurance, but I'll help you pay 95% of the cost.
Mary: thank you.
Obama: I need an aspirin.
Insurance company: We're not paying for that aspirin.

Thursday, 14 November 2013

reddit entry

[–]PasswordLost 150 points  ago
sorry, this has been archived and can no longer be voted on
I drink copicuous amounts of alcohol, sometimes I smoke poisonous cigarettes, I combust parts of cannabis plant. I analyze, I read, I observe, I overanalyze and I get lost. Feelings of vigor, elation, peace, apathy, gloom and confusion roll over me like waves in the ocean. Trying to put together the pieces in this unsolvable puzzle, I gaze into the cosmos, I roll the dice, I am alive.

i just about managed not to lol

In Science I wrote the word 'carbon dioxide' on the board, then when a kid tried to identify what gas it was that made a flame go out, I pointed to the words.

He said slowly and deliberately, "Cyborg explanation"

Monday, 11 November 2013

My Job

Stupid Random Catchphrases From My Tutor Group That Loop Around My Head When I'm Trying To Sleep

George: Where's Mrs. Kleiser? No NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! I DON'T WANT DO IT!
Thomas: I don't like it. Mr. Neale, can you look up pictures of Dr. Who? The Cybermen.
Antony: Today, I feel great! I finally got a new Sonic comic!
Oliver: Sirrrrrrr, come look at my plane. Sirrrrrrrrrr, do you want to play a game wiv me? Sirrrrrrrrrrr, can you help me? Sirrrrrr, come look at my work.
Mia: Mr. Wheel. Freddie Jones. Evil pencilcase. Evil Maths. It's a secret. Miss Kettle.
Alfie R: I can't do it... it's too harrrrrd...
Benjamin: Uhyeah. Uhthank you.
Ryan: (Babbling chatter about Minecraft.)

As you can tell from the above, I operate in a world where each child has their unique madness. By far the most entertaining is Mia. The whole who I think of as the one sort of under my wing a bit is Ryan. The one who annoys me is George. The one who is easiest to work with is Oliver. The one who everyone likes the most is Benjamin. Maybe Mia. The one who has done the best in terms of social progress is Thomas. The one who will struggle most in life is Alfie. The one who is struggling the most at the moment is Alfie.

Teachers are generally alright. Is it bad that they generally seem to pale in comparison to the students?

Then of course, outside of my classroom are the other students.

The Other Students

Freddie: always going on about the amount of RAM in his computer. 16 GB, apparently...

Alfie B: has a weird thing where he looks at you side-on, look a cat would about to pounce.
Jacob: sews cool plush toys. Walks out of lessons in a camp, flouncy manner refusing to do anything. If ignored, will immediately return.

Brent: Quotes from films more often than not. Has a vacant stare. No eye contact. Nice boy. Good artist.

Jay: Annoying as fuck. Always picks up on any linguistic flaws, or slight errors in logic. For some reason though, invited me on his trip to Pizza Hut this Friday so I can't be annoyed too much at him.

Tom: Long blond haired boy who has problems with paranoia and thinks people make fun of him because of his hair when they don't. Plays guitar, likes rock music like the Zep etc. Cool kid.

Kodie: Annoying. Can 'self harm' when having problems (by self harm it's more a case of drawing on himself). Thanks to Mia he is more calm than before. Hopefully she will stop him 'self harming'.

Matthew: A middle class eleven year old who thinks he is gangsta. Or rather, tries to think he is gangsta. The only boy I've got annoyed at. Because he can take it. Because I'm the LSA he deserves, etc. TA now, actually.

Daniel: OCD, depressed. Most likely to be kicked out sooner or later. Acts like an arsehole when he's around Sam but otherwise fairly mellow. Prone to sudden outbursts of swearing and rudeness.

Sam: Emotionally numb and flat. Fascinating to listen to. Has watched far too many 18 rated things. Presents as indifferent to all and any positive emotion around him. If peers are having a good time together, will try his best with smarmy comments to bring everyone down. Only fails when teachers take the piss out of him - other students give him respect for some reason. It's almost like he unlocks a part of them all and they enjoy that moment where they can all be evil.

Theo: The one student whose classes I am never in. Nice boy. No real issues.

I've probably missed one out.

Each and every one of these students at some time in my day will be my responsibility, whether it's on lunch/break duty or in lesson. I am an LSA to each of these. Compare that to my last post, where I was an LSA to one student, and only one.


I overthink and overthink my job until I can't relax. Until I feel like a failure for no reason other than I'm not calm, or something. I don't know. I bought Quiet and it would make me feel better about being an introvert except I'm fucked up, introvert or not.