Friday, May 30, 2003
Currently listening to: Sugar Hill Gang - Rapper's Delight (Long Version)
Regan, I am both shocked and appalled in equal measure! You know full well of the specific incident to which I am referring. Do not think that, simply because you are such an obvious virgin, you can attempt to play innocent with me :P
Wait a minute... I just turned someone's own virginal innocence against them in the form of a malicious insult. Man, I suck!
Or not, as the case may be o.O
Regan, I am both shocked and appalled in equal measure! You know full well of the specific incident to which I am referring. Do not think that, simply because you are such an obvious virgin, you can attempt to play innocent with me :P
Wait a minute... I just turned someone's own virginal innocence against them in the form of a malicious insult. Man, I suck!
Or not, as the case may be o.O
Wednesday, May 28, 2003
Currently listening to: Infected Mushroom - None Of This Is Real
I won!
^^
In other news: a certain individual who would understandably prefer that their identity were withheld (for reasons which would no doubt become apparent, should you ever be unfortunate enough to encounter me head-on in the street, prior to having undergone the necessary psychological conditioning) has bestowed me with the unenviable title of "beefcake" on Faceparty. If one takes into consideration the fact that my profile is presently somewhat lacking in the photograph department, and that I submitted my details quite clandestinely during an MSN conversation which transpired at around four o'clock yesterday morning, then one can only deduce this to have been a cute, but ultimately, fruitless, attempt at inflating my already sagging ego.
Either that, or someone with whom I have yet to establish formal contact deems me to be possessing an intellect of "beefcake" proportions; apparent, no doubt, as a direct result of their having perused the *ahem* weighty tome unravelling beneath your very auspices.
Oh well, perhaps 'tis an omen of things to come ;)
I won!
^^
In other news: a certain individual who would understandably prefer that their identity were withheld (for reasons which would no doubt become apparent, should you ever be unfortunate enough to encounter me head-on in the street, prior to having undergone the necessary psychological conditioning) has bestowed me with the unenviable title of "beefcake" on Faceparty. If one takes into consideration the fact that my profile is presently somewhat lacking in the photograph department, and that I submitted my details quite clandestinely during an MSN conversation which transpired at around four o'clock yesterday morning, then one can only deduce this to have been a cute, but ultimately, fruitless, attempt at inflating my already sagging ego.
Either that, or someone with whom I have yet to establish formal contact deems me to be possessing an intellect of "beefcake" proportions; apparent, no doubt, as a direct result of their having perused the *ahem* weighty tome unravelling beneath your very auspices.
Oh well, perhaps 'tis an omen of things to come ;)
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
Currently listening to: Soulsearcher - Can't Get Enough
Waaaaaaahooooooohaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!!!!
*lands*
Hmph... perhaps some form of explanation would be pertinent. Alright then... here goes:
As you will quite likely have been able to surmise from that rather protracted exclamatory remark, I recently bore witness to the veritable cinematic revelation that is The Matrix: Reloaded. Having done so, and pursuant to a substantial degree of deliberation concerning my opinion thereof, I presently find myself drawn towards the somewhat unlikely conclusion that it constitutes a definitive cinematic experience of truly magnanimous proportions, and one which I shall undoubtedly grow to savour; perhaps even more so than my initial viewing of the original Matrix, on VHS, exactly two years and five months prior to this particular episode. We shall see.
Granted, one might well discern such a decidedly controversial statement to be derived primarily from the undeniable fact that one's viewing experience can only be considered "subdued" at best, should one insist upon the utilisation of VHS as medium of choice for the purpose of viewing releases produced ostensibly for the cinematic forum. Nevertheless, I do not care. Not in the least. Haha.
Fortunately for you, my humble voyeur, one shall observe that I am not in the least bit disposed towards ruining an ingenious and quite unexpected plot twist, transpiration thereof effected several minutes prior to the conclusion of the film itself. Quite unlike aforementioned "acquaintance", who finds there to be no activity more gratifying than that of embarking upon excursions into town to witness the very latest in cinematic entertainment, only to deliberately and maliciously expose each of the plot twists, in turn, by means of his decidedly impressive capacity for vocal projection. Grr.
Anyhow, that constitutes the sum quota of all that I shall vouchsafe to you for the time being. Personally, I would strongly urge that you proceed to your local Odeon post-haste, lest Regan should by some means gain provision of a megaphone. You have been duly warned.
N.B. Lisa, while I am able to wholeheartedly empathise with your apparent chagrin pertaining to the scenes in which Neo and Trinity express "affection" for one another (not being a particular fan for such public displays myself :P), the relationship between Neo and Trinity is an ingenious plot mechanism devised as a means by which to facilitate the outcome of a precisely orchestrated and constantly evolving storyline, and as such, I do not think that it detracts from the overall dramatic integrity of the film as a whole.
Still, it's your prerogative ;)
Waaaaaaahooooooohaaaaaaaaagh!!!!!!!!!!
*lands*
Hmph... perhaps some form of explanation would be pertinent. Alright then... here goes:
As you will quite likely have been able to surmise from that rather protracted exclamatory remark, I recently bore witness to the veritable cinematic revelation that is The Matrix: Reloaded. Having done so, and pursuant to a substantial degree of deliberation concerning my opinion thereof, I presently find myself drawn towards the somewhat unlikely conclusion that it constitutes a definitive cinematic experience of truly magnanimous proportions, and one which I shall undoubtedly grow to savour; perhaps even more so than my initial viewing of the original Matrix, on VHS, exactly two years and five months prior to this particular episode. We shall see.
Granted, one might well discern such a decidedly controversial statement to be derived primarily from the undeniable fact that one's viewing experience can only be considered "subdued" at best, should one insist upon the utilisation of VHS as medium of choice for the purpose of viewing releases produced ostensibly for the cinematic forum. Nevertheless, I do not care. Not in the least. Haha.
Fortunately for you, my humble voyeur, one shall observe that I am not in the least bit disposed towards ruining an ingenious and quite unexpected plot twist, transpiration thereof effected several minutes prior to the conclusion of the film itself. Quite unlike aforementioned "acquaintance", who finds there to be no activity more gratifying than that of embarking upon excursions into town to witness the very latest in cinematic entertainment, only to deliberately and maliciously expose each of the plot twists, in turn, by means of his decidedly impressive capacity for vocal projection. Grr.
Anyhow, that constitutes the sum quota of all that I shall vouchsafe to you for the time being. Personally, I would strongly urge that you proceed to your local Odeon post-haste, lest Regan should by some means gain provision of a megaphone. You have been duly warned.
N.B. Lisa, while I am able to wholeheartedly empathise with your apparent chagrin pertaining to the scenes in which Neo and Trinity express "affection" for one another (not being a particular fan for such public displays myself :P), the relationship between Neo and Trinity is an ingenious plot mechanism devised as a means by which to facilitate the outcome of a precisely orchestrated and constantly evolving storyline, and as such, I do not think that it detracts from the overall dramatic integrity of the film as a whole.
Still, it's your prerogative ;)
Lisa rules, and I love her. Moreover, Lisa rules because she knows how to take a beating ;)
What... what's that I hear? Would... I care to... elaborate? Hah! On the contrary; presently, I shall be proceeding up the wooden highway to Bedfordshire, to dream pretty dreams, and think gratifying thoughts...
Nevertheless, should one find oneself overcome by the morbid desire to peruse a transcript of the entire sordid affair, you can obtain the full, blow-by-blow account at Lisa's blog.
As for me? Well, I am, quite literally, spent. Good night, and may god have mercy on you all... ^^
What... what's that I hear? Would... I care to... elaborate? Hah! On the contrary; presently, I shall be proceeding up the wooden highway to Bedfordshire, to dream pretty dreams, and think gratifying thoughts...
Nevertheless, should one find oneself overcome by the morbid desire to peruse a transcript of the entire sordid affair, you can obtain the full, blow-by-blow account at Lisa's blog.
As for me? Well, I am, quite literally, spent. Good night, and may god have mercy on you all... ^^
N.B. There is a marked difference between that which I would deem to be useful, practical advice, and that which can be construed only as simple empathy in an (often futile) attempt to placate my inherently turbulent emotional state. I am able clearly to recall having received a good deal of the latter, but, insofar as a practical solution is concerned, contributions have hitherto stood few and far between. And that, my friends, is why I continue to "scour".
That is not to say I am in any way ungrateful for the emotional support, because I'm pretty damned sure that I would be a veritable basket-case without it. However, figuratively speaking, it is rather akin to anaesthetic without surgery.
Do not think for one moment, however, that I am ignorant; if anyone has any further suggestions, I would gladly hear them.
That is not to say I am in any way ungrateful for the emotional support, because I'm pretty damned sure that I would be a veritable basket-case without it. However, figuratively speaking, it is rather akin to anaesthetic without surgery.
Do not think for one moment, however, that I am ignorant; if anyone has any further suggestions, I would gladly hear them.
Monday, May 26, 2003
Currently listening to: Sade - Smooth Operator
"It has come to my attention lately that I appear to be larger than life. But I am quite sure that life will outgrow me in time."
Well, whaddaya think? My very first piece of half-baked cod philosophy. Chew on that, Max ;)
Why can't I learn to appreciate myself?
I'm certain that some people will have read through this, all the while preoccupied by such thoughts as "Christ, I wish I had his vocabulary" and "Ginger hair? Pah... at least he has hair. And a head."
Only, as opposed to typing out the word "vocabulary", they would have chosen the equally viable - albeit somewhat less credible - path of formulating a compound out of the words "word" and "list". As did a certain acquaintance of mine, not so very long ago; although, in order that I might preserve the (dubious) reputation of said acquaintance, I have grudgingly decided to maintain his anonymity.
For the time being ;)
Well, I'm off upstairs to pursue the proverbial carrot of academic excellence. This is Ryan Meredith-Pullen, blogger, hypocrite and all-round pompous arse, signing off.
"It has come to my attention lately that I appear to be larger than life. But I am quite sure that life will outgrow me in time."
Well, whaddaya think? My very first piece of half-baked cod philosophy. Chew on that, Max ;)
Why can't I learn to appreciate myself?
I'm certain that some people will have read through this, all the while preoccupied by such thoughts as "Christ, I wish I had his vocabulary" and "Ginger hair? Pah... at least he has hair. And a head."
Only, as opposed to typing out the word "vocabulary", they would have chosen the equally viable - albeit somewhat less credible - path of formulating a compound out of the words "word" and "list". As did a certain acquaintance of mine, not so very long ago; although, in order that I might preserve the (dubious) reputation of said acquaintance, I have grudgingly decided to maintain his anonymity.
For the time being ;)
Well, I'm off upstairs to pursue the proverbial carrot of academic excellence. This is Ryan Meredith-Pullen, blogger, hypocrite and all-round pompous arse, signing off.
Currently listening to: Was (Not Was) - Shake Your Head
Being, as I am, a self-proclaimed "House-Head", I recently submitted this review of a particularly noteworthy compilation to Amazon.com:
"In two words: absolutely brilliant; in five words: absolutely brilliant BUT tragically flawed. If you're a euphoric house junkie (like myself) then this will quite likely keep you satisfied well into the Summer months - HOWEVER, there were (at least) three nagging faults which marred my listening experience, and these were:
1. Where the hell is Modjo - Lady? Okay, so I am aware that they can't be expected to fit absolutely *everything* on 2 CDs, but to omit such a true house classic on an album which sees fit to pay lip service to such trash as Kira's "Angel"... well, that just ain't funny.
2. Kira - Angel (how did you guess?). Yes, it was a "big hit". Nevertheless, it is also the very epitome of an apparent tidal wave of mind-numbingly repetitive, criminally unoriginal, tragically monotonous and infinitely cloned commercial euro-trance (or is that euro-trash?) that seems to have hit our shores in recent months (that's right, people... we're talking Scooter/D.J. Sammy territory here). I honestly do not understand how you can justify wasting an entire CD slot with this tripe and yet at the same time completely neglect the aforementioned Modjo. It's not even *euphoria* for christ's sake! *temple vein pulsates*
3. Superstar by the Wossnames. Alright, so I couldn't be bothered to remember the name of the group... and neither should you. After all, it would be payment in kind for this particular example of pre-fab, throwaway, commercial garbage with bland vocals, idiotic lyrics and one of the most truly uninspiring and life-threateningly monotonous backing tracks of any dance "music" I have ever heard. This is supposed to be a EUPHORIC HOUSE compilation, not "Thuh Vurry Bezt of Uro Transe 20003" (cynicism? what cynicism?). Avoid it like the plague, or otherwise, like a victim of said plague, you will only wind up feeling filthy, violated and unworthy of co-habitating with your fellow human beings. It really is that bad.
All in all, I can attest to having really enjoyed this, and am sure that - so long as you are capable of overlooking a few minor blemishes - you will derive similar enjoyment from it. Just remember: it's not to everyone's tastes, and if the whole commercial euro-trash scene floats your proverbial boat, then you might be better off looking elsewhere. After all, true beauty has forever been inherently flawed ;).
Overall Rating: 4/5"
Not bad, eh? Not surprisingly, it has yet to see the light of day insofar as publication is concerned. I would surmise that to be due in part to my unrelenting, and let it be said, merciless verbal evisceration pertaining to a certain two tracks of which I am not overly fond.
Guess who's gonna be boycotting Amazon.com for the foreseeable future ;)
Being, as I am, a self-proclaimed "House-Head", I recently submitted this review of a particularly noteworthy compilation to Amazon.com:
"In two words: absolutely brilliant; in five words: absolutely brilliant BUT tragically flawed. If you're a euphoric house junkie (like myself) then this will quite likely keep you satisfied well into the Summer months - HOWEVER, there were (at least) three nagging faults which marred my listening experience, and these were:
1. Where the hell is Modjo - Lady? Okay, so I am aware that they can't be expected to fit absolutely *everything* on 2 CDs, but to omit such a true house classic on an album which sees fit to pay lip service to such trash as Kira's "Angel"... well, that just ain't funny.
2. Kira - Angel (how did you guess?). Yes, it was a "big hit". Nevertheless, it is also the very epitome of an apparent tidal wave of mind-numbingly repetitive, criminally unoriginal, tragically monotonous and infinitely cloned commercial euro-trance (or is that euro-trash?) that seems to have hit our shores in recent months (that's right, people... we're talking Scooter/D.J. Sammy territory here). I honestly do not understand how you can justify wasting an entire CD slot with this tripe and yet at the same time completely neglect the aforementioned Modjo. It's not even *euphoria* for christ's sake! *temple vein pulsates*
3. Superstar by the Wossnames. Alright, so I couldn't be bothered to remember the name of the group... and neither should you. After all, it would be payment in kind for this particular example of pre-fab, throwaway, commercial garbage with bland vocals, idiotic lyrics and one of the most truly uninspiring and life-threateningly monotonous backing tracks of any dance "music" I have ever heard. This is supposed to be a EUPHORIC HOUSE compilation, not "Thuh Vurry Bezt of Uro Transe 20003" (cynicism? what cynicism?). Avoid it like the plague, or otherwise, like a victim of said plague, you will only wind up feeling filthy, violated and unworthy of co-habitating with your fellow human beings. It really is that bad.
All in all, I can attest to having really enjoyed this, and am sure that - so long as you are capable of overlooking a few minor blemishes - you will derive similar enjoyment from it. Just remember: it's not to everyone's tastes, and if the whole commercial euro-trash scene floats your proverbial boat, then you might be better off looking elsewhere. After all, true beauty has forever been inherently flawed ;).
Overall Rating: 4/5"
Not bad, eh? Not surprisingly, it has yet to see the light of day insofar as publication is concerned. I would surmise that to be due in part to my unrelenting, and let it be said, merciless verbal evisceration pertaining to a certain two tracks of which I am not overly fond.
Guess who's gonna be boycotting Amazon.com for the foreseeable future ;)
*bigs up Regan*
Thanks for the advice.
And gratitude to Lisa for enduring my whining tirade of self-deprecatory remarks.
*hugs*
You guys kick arse ^^
Thanks for the advice.
And gratitude to Lisa for enduring my whining tirade of self-deprecatory remarks.
*hugs*
You guys kick arse ^^
Currently listening to: Sunday's Dream Team Live Mix (recorded), courtesy of my iRiver iFP-190T 256Mb mp3 player.
Perhaps I wallow in self-pity far too much for my own good. Perhaps I am irritated by those who I observe consistently wallowing in self-pity and/or fishing for the sympathy of others, when they are evidently so much better off than I am. Perhaps I guilt-trip people and play with their emotions. Perhaps I am stubborn, bitchy, selfish and irritable. Perhaps I "scour people's minds" for advice, then reject their prognoses. Perhaps I strain people to the very outer limits of their powers of endurance.
However, please be mindful of the fact that:
- I am pale
- I am ginger
- I am insufferably arrogant
- I am physically unattractive
- I am widely resented and/or disliked
- My life revolves around my computer
- People see me as a figure of fun
- People judge me by my appearance before getting to know the real me; this corroborates the notion of my being physically ugly, as many people who treated me like shit in previous years are now those very same people who I have lately come to think of as friends, acquaintances and confidantes
- I have a vision defect, as a result of which I cannot participate effectively in sport of any kind... and as a result of which, my life has often been transformed into a living hell by shallow, puerile bigots who define individuals by their proficiency at some stupid, insignificant game
- I am physically unfit
- I have been kissed once, while drunk, during a game of spin the bottle
- I have been told that I am attractive, twice in my entire life, and both times by the same girl... possibly as an act of sympathy
- I verbally dismember my friends (Lisa, Regan; I'm sorry - it's nothing personal, and it doesn't mean anything)
- I have acne
- I have never had a girlfriend
- I am sexually frustrated
- I am a pathological procrastinator
- I am unable to appreciate my good points, if such things exist
- I am unable to fulfill my potential
- I dispense bad advice
- I teach people to resent my presence
Consequently, I frequently find myself in a state of morbid depression, being consumed by loathing and self-hatred. I apologise (retrospectively, and in advance) for anyone who ever finds themselves/has found themselves caught in the blast radius prior to the shit hitting the proverbial fan. Thanks.
And presently, I depart from this shrine of solitude to sample the epicurian delights of my mother's famous "Bread á la Range". Peace out, and god bless.
Perhaps I wallow in self-pity far too much for my own good. Perhaps I am irritated by those who I observe consistently wallowing in self-pity and/or fishing for the sympathy of others, when they are evidently so much better off than I am. Perhaps I guilt-trip people and play with their emotions. Perhaps I am stubborn, bitchy, selfish and irritable. Perhaps I "scour people's minds" for advice, then reject their prognoses. Perhaps I strain people to the very outer limits of their powers of endurance.
However, please be mindful of the fact that:
- I am pale
- I am ginger
- I am insufferably arrogant
- I am physically unattractive
- I am widely resented and/or disliked
- My life revolves around my computer
- People see me as a figure of fun
- People judge me by my appearance before getting to know the real me; this corroborates the notion of my being physically ugly, as many people who treated me like shit in previous years are now those very same people who I have lately come to think of as friends, acquaintances and confidantes
- I have a vision defect, as a result of which I cannot participate effectively in sport of any kind... and as a result of which, my life has often been transformed into a living hell by shallow, puerile bigots who define individuals by their proficiency at some stupid, insignificant game
- I am physically unfit
- I have been kissed once, while drunk, during a game of spin the bottle
- I have been told that I am attractive, twice in my entire life, and both times by the same girl... possibly as an act of sympathy
- I verbally dismember my friends (Lisa, Regan; I'm sorry - it's nothing personal, and it doesn't mean anything)
- I have acne
- I have never had a girlfriend
- I am sexually frustrated
- I am a pathological procrastinator
- I am unable to appreciate my good points, if such things exist
- I am unable to fulfill my potential
- I dispense bad advice
- I teach people to resent my presence
Consequently, I frequently find myself in a state of morbid depression, being consumed by loathing and self-hatred. I apologise (retrospectively, and in advance) for anyone who ever finds themselves/has found themselves caught in the blast radius prior to the shit hitting the proverbial fan. Thanks.
And presently, I depart from this shrine of solitude to sample the epicurian delights of my mother's famous "Bread á la Range". Peace out, and god bless.
I have occupied the past hour or so by means of browsing absent-mindedly through the blogs of others... some of whom I care about, others of whom I care not so much about. No, that's a lie; I have occupied the greater part of this past hour typing out an unnecessarily long and verbose blog post. Well anyway, that aside, their lives appear significantly more interesting and eventful than my own. Cue revelation.
Out of all the blogs yet perused, I have determined:
Lisa's to be the most compelling and inexplicably, compulsively readable;
Fi's to be the most excessively verbose (save for my own, of course);
Patrik's to be the most entertaining and/or insightful (teenage angst, sexual anxiety and homo-eroticism abound);
Danny's to be the most refreshing and invigorating (like an uber-shot of some as yet unidentified, but doubtless alcoholic, beverage)
N.B. I have, during a brief but notable recovery of consciousness, made the conscious decision to start up one of those "currently listening to:" whatchamajigs, effective as of today, to be affixed to the very beginning of each new post that I make from hereon in. Perhaps thou shalt gain unique and disturbing insight into the workings of my mind, however be it not my outright intention thou shouldst do so.
Please note that I accept no liability for damages, psychological or otherwise, incurred as a direct/indirect result of opinions expressed herein. Sorry Patrik.
Out of all the blogs yet perused, I have determined:
Lisa's to be the most compelling and inexplicably, compulsively readable;
Fi's to be the most excessively verbose (save for my own, of course);
Patrik's to be the most entertaining and/or insightful (teenage angst, sexual anxiety and homo-eroticism abound);
Danny's to be the most refreshing and invigorating (like an uber-shot of some as yet unidentified, but doubtless alcoholic, beverage)
N.B. I have, during a brief but notable recovery of consciousness, made the conscious decision to start up one of those "currently listening to:" whatchamajigs, effective as of today, to be affixed to the very beginning of each new post that I make from hereon in. Perhaps thou shalt gain unique and disturbing insight into the workings of my mind, however be it not my outright intention thou shouldst do so.
Please note that I accept no liability for damages, psychological or otherwise, incurred as a direct/indirect result of opinions expressed herein. Sorry Patrik.
I proudly present to you a fully-fledged Commentary System, courtesy of Enetation.co.uk (thanks Lisa!). Feel free to protest vehemently via the handy link that I have so kindly affixed to the bottom of each post. Or you could even attempt a compliment, be you so inclined ^^
Sunday, May 25, 2003
Lisa tactfully informed me that I am not the sole proprietor of aforementioned emoticon.
Nevertheless, I invented it in my own mind... which is, of course, all that matters in the grand scheme of things ;)
Nevertheless, I invented it in my own mind... which is, of course, all that matters in the grand scheme of things ;)
I never thought I'd hear (see) myself say (type) this, but it is only two days in, and already my blog has been subjugated to the will of bedwetting toddlers and incontinent octogenarians, courtesy of an oh-so "discreet" ad placement approximately ten centimetres due North of this very article.
Well, I must proclaim my indignance at this commercial exploitation. That said, however, can one really imagine moi forking out fifteen dollars (how much sterling? Bloody yanks) for the exclusive luxury of an ad-free blog? Hah... I beg to differ - personally, I would prefer to remain steadfastly defiant; a stubborn blemish on the face of adversity, rather than selling out to the faceless, multi-national corporation that is Blogger.com.
It's those little victories which make it all worthwhile ^^
Well, I must proclaim my indignance at this commercial exploitation. That said, however, can one really imagine moi forking out fifteen dollars (how much sterling? Bloody yanks) for the exclusive luxury of an ad-free blog? Hah... I beg to differ - personally, I would prefer to remain steadfastly defiant; a stubborn blemish on the face of adversity, rather than selling out to the faceless, multi-national corporation that is Blogger.com.
It's those little victories which make it all worthwhile ^^
N.B. I have recently been engaged in furious political debate with my naive young armchair anarchist of a font, and he has reluctantly agreed that no amount of boycotting Euro signs is going to overthrow the EU, nor will it ever result in the disestablishment of the European Currency. He has been sentenced to solitary confinement for the foreseeable future, and is, as we speak, being subjected to truly god-awful stand-up routines courtesy of Comic Sans MS. There is no prospect of a reprieve.
Call me hypocritical if you will, but I will not permit my publication to be hijacked and used as a platform from which to jump-start the next proletarian insurrection. Please endeavour to understand that such machinations might well jeopardise the integrity of my prospective future career choice; something which I must safeguard at all costs, lest I risk my academic qualifications being rendered well and truly void.
What career? Hah! As if I'd tell you, ya sneaky, back-stabbing proletarian.
Call me hypocritical if you will, but I will not permit my publication to be hijacked and used as a platform from which to jump-start the next proletarian insurrection. Please endeavour to understand that such machinations might well jeopardise the integrity of my prospective future career choice; something which I must safeguard at all costs, lest I risk my academic qualifications being rendered well and truly void.
What career? Hah! As if I'd tell you, ya sneaky, back-stabbing proletarian.
Hmph... I'm not entirely sure whether to fling open the windows and recite poetry to the stars, or to retire to a small, dank corner of my walk-in closet and eke out the remainder of my existence crying into my keyboard.
Shall I elaborate? Okay, here goes: during one of my numerous lapses in higher brain function, I succeeded in devising a unique, brand-new and wholly original emoticon. Nope, you didn't mis-read... well, perhaps you did, but I cannot be held accountable for your defects. Go buy a picture-book and become a Feng-Shui consultant.
Anyway, I would surmise that you may already have borne silent witness to this mind-boggling innovation, as yet unparalleled within the field of Expressive Emotive Semantic Symbolism... see that little orange smiley directly adjacent to the Time Stamp, hidden away at the very foot of each post? Yes, that's right... initial interpretation may convey the outward impression that this seemingly insignificant arrangement of apparently random symbols is nothing more than two Euro signs and an underscore. Bah - simpleton! I shall clarify for you right at this very moment that its appearance serves only to belie its true nature; for it is, you see, a bold, revanchist statement, promoting anarchy and condemning our capitalist society and its bureaucratic regime. It is, you might say, the very embodiment of world-weary cynicism and arm-chair revolutionism, all compressed into a fraction of one Byte of information. Shocked? Enthralled? Yes... I figured as much. Nevertheless, here it is again for the delectation of you, the humble voyeur (please note that my present font is a moody, fickle little bastard, and as such, has made the conscious decision to boycott Euro signs - perhaps in some kind of vain attempt to undermine and de-centralise the European community... who can tell?):
€_€
Well, as they say, true genius speaks for itself. I assure you, the patent's in the post.
Shall I elaborate? Okay, here goes: during one of my numerous lapses in higher brain function, I succeeded in devising a unique, brand-new and wholly original emoticon. Nope, you didn't mis-read... well, perhaps you did, but I cannot be held accountable for your defects. Go buy a picture-book and become a Feng-Shui consultant.
Anyway, I would surmise that you may already have borne silent witness to this mind-boggling innovation, as yet unparalleled within the field of Expressive Emotive Semantic Symbolism... see that little orange smiley directly adjacent to the Time Stamp, hidden away at the very foot of each post? Yes, that's right... initial interpretation may convey the outward impression that this seemingly insignificant arrangement of apparently random symbols is nothing more than two Euro signs and an underscore. Bah - simpleton! I shall clarify for you right at this very moment that its appearance serves only to belie its true nature; for it is, you see, a bold, revanchist statement, promoting anarchy and condemning our capitalist society and its bureaucratic regime. It is, you might say, the very embodiment of world-weary cynicism and arm-chair revolutionism, all compressed into a fraction of one Byte of information. Shocked? Enthralled? Yes... I figured as much. Nevertheless, here it is again for the delectation of you, the humble voyeur (please note that my present font is a moody, fickle little bastard, and as such, has made the conscious decision to boycott Euro signs - perhaps in some kind of vain attempt to undermine and de-centralise the European community... who can tell?):
€_€
Well, as they say, true genius speaks for itself. I assure you, the patent's in the post.
I posted this comment on Lisa's blog, earlier today:
"Shit. It's only just hit me that, as of the trip to Alton Towers on 23rd June, my life will have lost all sense of meaning and purpose. It will have become nothing more than a lonely, tedious, ritualistic limbo of mp3 downloads, blog posting, (not) working on my website and - in a brave but futile act of sheer, gutsy defiance - sitting out on the balcony in my short shorts, trying to hone my startlingly pale flesh down to a more agreeable hue.
What with you & Regal... sorry, Regan, shooting off to the Philippines for the summer, I'm gonna be utterly dependent on the prospect of (possibly) seeing Charli. Once a week. Argh.
I can't even celebrate having aced my exams... because I don't even get to find out what grades I've got until August, by which time I'll quite likely have lost the will to live"
I really shouldn't inflict this kind of crap on her. Really, I shouldn't... I've no right. But then, you don't know Lisa. Lisa is special; Lisa is life-support. And presently, Lisa is emburdened with the prodigious task of maintaining my sanity; of humouring me when I'm down; of responding to my thinly veiled bouts of merciless self-depreciation in a manner befitting one as intelligent, sensitive, empathetic, caring, loyal, beautiful and downright phenomenal as only she can be.
Recently, however, she's had burdens of her own to bear. Truth is... she always has done. Her blog is exactly that; her blog. It is emotional outlet, psychotherapist and agony aunt, all rolled into one aesthetically gratifying package. And it is in the realisation of this fact, my friendly, neighbourhood voyeurs, that I vouchsafe to you the precise motivation for my latent decision to exact the publication of this insufferable diatribe. Or, imminent publication. Somebody stop me... please.
So, it is with a light heart and heavy suitcase that I welcome you into.... my blog *cue feeble fanfare on bent gas pipe*. Punch a hole in your hat, hurl your jacket onto the doormat in a blind fit of repressed sexual frustration, and make yourself at home.
"Shit. It's only just hit me that, as of the trip to Alton Towers on 23rd June, my life will have lost all sense of meaning and purpose. It will have become nothing more than a lonely, tedious, ritualistic limbo of mp3 downloads, blog posting, (not) working on my website and - in a brave but futile act of sheer, gutsy defiance - sitting out on the balcony in my short shorts, trying to hone my startlingly pale flesh down to a more agreeable hue.
What with you & Regal... sorry, Regan, shooting off to the Philippines for the summer, I'm gonna be utterly dependent on the prospect of (possibly) seeing Charli. Once a week. Argh.
I can't even celebrate having aced my exams... because I don't even get to find out what grades I've got until August, by which time I'll quite likely have lost the will to live"
I really shouldn't inflict this kind of crap on her. Really, I shouldn't... I've no right. But then, you don't know Lisa. Lisa is special; Lisa is life-support. And presently, Lisa is emburdened with the prodigious task of maintaining my sanity; of humouring me when I'm down; of responding to my thinly veiled bouts of merciless self-depreciation in a manner befitting one as intelligent, sensitive, empathetic, caring, loyal, beautiful and downright phenomenal as only she can be.
Recently, however, she's had burdens of her own to bear. Truth is... she always has done. Her blog is exactly that; her blog. It is emotional outlet, psychotherapist and agony aunt, all rolled into one aesthetically gratifying package. And it is in the realisation of this fact, my friendly, neighbourhood voyeurs, that I vouchsafe to you the precise motivation for my latent decision to exact the publication of this insufferable diatribe. Or, imminent publication. Somebody stop me... please.
So, it is with a light heart and heavy suitcase that I welcome you into.... my blog *cue feeble fanfare on bent gas pipe*. Punch a hole in your hat, hurl your jacket onto the doormat in a blind fit of repressed sexual frustration, and make yourself at home.
It has struck me - during a recent bout of quiet introspection - that I may soon be completely at a loss for anything vaguely productive with which to occupy that great, gaping void which has become my life during and throughout these long, tedious, post-GCSE months. So I'm starting up my own weblog. Jumping on the bandwagon, I hear you ask? Sold-out to a web-centric youth sub-culture, dominated by geeks, conspiracy theorists and depraved sociopaths? Hah! Au contraire, mon amis... the simple fact of the matter is that I oh-so desperately crave an appropriate outlet into which I can, at my convenience, egest all the irritating crap which has the annoying tendency to periodically invade my angst-ridden cerebrum. And hell, if you're good, there might even be a half-baked piece of cod philosophy or poetic insight floating amidst the proverbial slurry of my verbal incontinence. Well anyway, enough with the bovine excrement - it's time to come get your daily fix of premium teenage angst; fresh outta the verbal blender and served up raw on a sterile, white surface with a side-serving of arrogant, self-indulgent egocentricity, just for good measure. Oh, and let us not forget the obligatory cup of rampant verbosity with which to wash down the whole vile concoction... Mmm - who woulda thought that teenage vanity could taste so bittersweet?
