Lemurkind - hero of the modern age
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| Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 | | 8:58 pm |
To Mars (the cheap way)
I saw this: http://uk.news.yahoo.com/afp/20070619/tsc-space-mars-europe-4de741d.htmland was most amused. Just how many verses of green bottles would you have to sing to pass the time? The only benefit of staying that long cooped up would be to actually to get to mars, what a gyp to spend 18 months in a truck and still be in Moscow. I try to think of something awesome to say but it escapes me. I have launched a great and glorious project with the aid of trypyr but more on that later. London is as london does and the summer heat bears down more and more. The appaling heat! Actually my flat is nice and cool. My amor is scoring aces in her search for greater employment, which is impressive and nice. The want list includes maze, orchard, lake, walking gallery, basically Hampton court. Anyone know how to grow a maze? I shall post again when more inspired. | | Saturday, June 9th, 2007 | | 3:46 pm |
Mirabilis
Hello all, been absent from this forum for a while so just though I'd check in and say how de do there. so here we go; ahem; how de do there? thank you. | | Friday, March 16th, 2007 | | 8:47 pm |
Luciferous munificence
Inspired by the mighty collusus that is Dave Page (diffrntcolours)I have joined the NO2ID campaign and plan to get in touch with the local campain which is, conveniently, based in Highbury. Time to finally do something as opposed to wittering on with vague good intentions. Perhaps I shall also finally get of my arse and become political, another vague ambition that has yet to coallese, much like the cheese of evil. The cheese of evil was (is) a goats cheese. It is liquid in large quantaties but when subdivided and placed in smaller quantaties on ones place starts to coallese and solidfy like sap oozing out of tree. It would be unpleasent if it didn't taste so damn good. I used to be a waiter in a self service restaurant you see. As waiters in self service restaurants have little in the way of actual work to occupy them I assigned myself the task of "supervising" the cheese section or as it was referred to; "The international Cheese display". Only a restaurant that was self service and stupid enought to employ waiters would also be pretentious enough to call it's cheese board "The international Cheese display". Ah the gags about edam barreling over the horizon and Gauda doing graceful loops above the fruit bowl etc etc. The other members of staff (apart from my old friend and compatriot Ben) were all either Spanish or antipodiean and were all most amusing. I worked there in the school and university holidays for about 3 years and don't think I actually did anything useful (other than speculative research into the properties of various cheeses, I actually at one point produced a detailed analysis and cross reference of the cheeses various properties broken down into origin etc but I carved this onto the back of particulary ripe bree, that I then consumed). Actually that's not quite true on one particularly busy lunch time as I wandered round the restaurant I was able to inform a crowd of business men who were trying to recall who it was who agreed to act in Starwars for a percentage that it was Alec Guiness. This brings me nicely onto my holiday in Malta (alec guiness stared in the Malta Story - second well war "but she's not a ship of war sir.", "isn't she, Sound the alert!" also with Jack Higgins as there was a 1942 law stating that all British films could only be classed as war films if Jack Hawkins appeared in them in some role or other, that's why Zulu was the last true war film to be made). Warm, very nice, deeply catholic, lizzards, enourmous churches built by self agrandising nights in tiny towns. A somewhat delapadated tourist economy, large numbers of ex pats and no foot paths. Crazy busses. The fish was delicious, great slabs of fresh sword fish that mealted in the mouth. Sea bass, red snapper. It was great. The Maltese are crazy for their fortress cities. Valleta is interesting in a way but Mdina (the old capital built by the Turks) was the nicest place we went. There is a smaller Island next to Malta called Gozo, part of the same country. Gozo is different in that everything and I do mean everything stops between 12;00 and 16:00 which was interesting. If you don't like lazing around in cafes and just enjoying the sunshine then it's not for you. It's not a hectic crazy place. In summer I can see the heat melting you. Was nice but I don't think I'l be going back. to be honest the best bit was standing on the wall of the Grand Harbour in Valetta pretending to be Jack Hawkins (my girlfriend didn't notice she was distracted by a cute stray cat of which there are many in malt and they are all ginger and white, all of them). TTFN | | Thursday, December 28th, 2006 | | 12:09 pm |
And down we go...
I feignted for the first time in my existence the other day. I had been siting for quite some time sipping beer, next to a blasting electric heater watching Pirates of the Carribean 2. I had made a small concension to the gathering heat by taking off but one jumper. After the film was over I sojourned to the loo. Once I got there I epxerienced a most strange sensation. I had scampered up the stairs so I could feel the pulse beating in my head. Then it slowed down drastically and finally, stopped. I remember thinking,"that's not good, lets just unlock the door in case I collapse". Next thing I know I'm lying on the floor, just getting up. It was the same sensation as waking up and it took me a while to remeber what had happened. Actually I came round just before my head hit the floor, the blow having been cushioned by my shoulder. There was almost no passage of time between the verticle and the horizontal although I do remeber my first re-conscious sensation being my breathing, my head bumping the floor and then, like some veil being lifted, my vision returning. I was utterly perplexed and baffled for a good while afterwards. Still that was unnerving in the extreme. I seem to be ok now other than a little sleep deprived. Also my shoulder is bruised. As for my memory of the event I do wonder how much I actually experienced and how much my mind has constructed afterwards to try and rationalise the event. It took me a while to work out I had come round before hitting the floor. Having to work today which is both inconvenient and dull as there is no one else here to gossip to. Still after today I'm off until the 2nd. Does anyone have exciting new years plans in London? | | Sunday, December 24th, 2006 | | 9:13 pm |
My mistake,
The communists are in fact to blame for everything. I consider myself to be one of life's button pushers. Allow me to elaborate , even if your permission is only given begrudingly. Occasionaly I will peramubalate up to a pedistrian crossing, there will be a large crowd of people standing in a huddle, staring mornfully out accros the road, in much the same way cows do when you cross their field, waiting for the lights to change. But for me their wait would be in vain for you see none of them have pressed the buttons. And without this pressing of the button the lights will not change. I often wonder, particular if the crowd is of impressive strength, 30 plus or so what the course of this is. Is it some amazing defect in intelect and understanding that fails to grasp the mecahnism for these crossings or is it just some terrible inertia and malaise which leads people to stand there rapped in their own bubble of melancholy and self interest unwilling to be the one to waddle the few feet to the left and press the all important button. A friend of mine proposed the more subversive theory that in fact the buttons do nothing, that all you have to do is wait and the buttons are there to make you feel you are somehow contributing to the process. If the later reason is true then the world we live in is indeed damned. I always press the button. I bravely shoulder the responsibility for the liberation of my fellow beings accross the road by activating that tiny circuit. We button pressers we take responsibilty. Not nay sayers are we, not the kind of person who says "well I'm not going to save electricity until they turn the lights off at night in Canary Wharf". No we take responsibility. My amor says I take it to far and it has become a sort of mania and that I must press the button. I must have control. Indeed for us button pressers it is distressing to encounter an automated crossing where you must simply wait. We feel impotent, devoid of purpose an helpless. These automated crossings are nothing less then the vanguard of the police state. So shut that door, report that crime, turn down your heating, recycle, and press the button. This leads me to recall an odd event I witnessed in Paddington station some weeks ago when travelling to my country domains with my amor. There was a large crowd of people in the centre of the concourse girating and grooving and dancing and whooping, to no obvious cause. As I approached closed all were wearing ear phones. Apparently, the destination, track list and start times are predetrimened in a way akin to the flash mob and everyone turns up to get their freak on. They go all the way to a cold station concourse, sober, to dance to music only they can here. This is the most self indulgent pretentious pointless abaration of "personal expression" I have ever encounter. The sheep like mentilty required to participate must be astonishing. No doubt some of the people there were video poets or light sculpters or other such types. Bizzare in the extreme. I mean why, dance sure, dance in public why not , but arghh no. I'm sorry but it makes the self indulgent whitterings of us bloggers look like the zenith of social acceptance. These events are not clever, original and make no statement about society or social interaction. They only statement they make is what an unimaginative clot with a gapping social void in your life you are to attend. No doubt many of them went on from there to listen to militant vegan poetry "You are all vampires! I did not want to be a vamipre etc!" Speaking of which some where no doubt at brick lane and Ginglik, but my patience is wearing down now, i have not conusmed christmas cake for at least five minutes. There is much more to tell dear fools including the evil works christmas party. For those of you who made it this far. How are you all? A merry christmas Jim, Liz. Sorry I missed you. I will organise a meet in the new year. | | Tuesday, December 12th, 2006 | | 10:39 pm |
Death and stark lines
I have great ideas for this blog but they are always lost in the miasma before I can record them and thus only the ether benefits from my perspicacity, or it did until I got a decent deoderant. I have been laid waste by disease lately. I have had a headache for about a week now. I was convinced, as are all egoists, that I had a truly interesting disease like a brain tumor or meningitis. Sadly it turned out to be merely sinusitis which is merely painful and dull and unintersting. So apologies to all of you whom I missed on Saturday, my head was exploding. Still I am taking more medicine than your average goat and should be recovered any time soon. All inspiration has been sucked away, like a cold duck, gone for ever to Southern climes (or is it climbs) to overwinter. Anywho, my amor has returned from her private viewing of the velasquez exhibition. The nepotism of the public school system knows no bounds. Also you, yes you , you know who you are, I KNOW, oh yes, I know everything,. Mwahahahaahah ahem. I am very much influenced by the books I am reading, the form the focus for my thoughts and frame of reference until the next book. As I have recently finished Julian by Gore Vidal (excellent), Labrynth by Kate Mosse (ok, don't read the last chapter unless you want to spend months vomiting in your old shoes with a combination of disapointed, predicitability and a surfeit of tweenes the like of which I have not seen since I was enbarnecaled by AI) and The Battle for Spain (bloody brilliant) I am now of the opinion Christianity (especially Caltholisim) is responsible for all evil in the world. This will not last long, a few chapters into the next book. Sleep now. | | Saturday, November 18th, 2006 | | 7:17 pm |
The world's worst lunch..
Today I was subjected to one of the most inferior social and culinary experiences I've had for a long time. It was the hideous Iguanas on the south bank (in London, there is nothing outside, nothing I tell you but a hideous waste land populated by fetid disgusting mutants, I'd quite like to get back and join them to be honest). If you've ever been to the chain Giraffe it was like that only worse, less interesting decor, poor service and third rate food. Tex Mex is in my opinion at the very nadir of culinary choices partly, I suspect (and am informed) is done badly in england. This was a particularly poor example, undercook food that has sat to long sweating under the hot lamp, lacking in flavour but with the unpleasent chilly punch that is oft used as a substitute for flavour. I ordered grilled prawns but they came covered in a foul poo covered sauce. My amor stuck to a burger but was rewarded with a bland tough thing with little taste. Overpriced and bland with confused rushed and disterested staff and the kind of cleintele who think it is an interesting space. Made slightly entertaining in that it is under a railway arch and your food shakes as does the room when a train goes over. The first couple of times I thought it was a truely buggered sound system. Do not go there. You'll be ripped off, disapointed and feeling vaguely poisened and strangely violated. Worse was the company we were compelled to keep. We were meeting a friend of my amors for her birthday. That someone would choose such a venue speaks volumes. Chosen no doubt for it's "fun" and "easy going but down to eart" vibe which are, in my mind criteria on which to reject a place. They had been doing activitied around London for example fitting 8 people in a phone box. I survived by building and impenetrable armour of sarcasm and indifference. My amor faired not so well and will take several days to recover. She has turned to a combination of chocolate pudding and raw cabage to claw her way back to sanity. It will be a long road. A nasty after taste of time wasted. Big case starts next week. Work is kind of crazy. My new ambition is to go on the X factor but be indiffernt. It would go something like this: The blond pointless talentless presenter "So tell us how much this means to you" Me "Well you know I could take it or leave it really, I'm just here for the crack." | | Saturday, November 11th, 2006 | | 6:17 pm |
By the end of this week I was suffering from the kind of exhaustion bought on by insufficient sleep where you cannot walk properly and merely stumble around loping from one foot to another in a sort of advanced falling mechanism where, if anything is foolish enough to venture into your planned path, you can all to easily end up splayed accross the floor with your hair covered in tea. It was in this state that I was dragged to a pub in Kentish town called monkeychew by my amor, for the birthday of a friend of hers. It was one of thos fashionable dimmly lit places that trys to pretend it's dirty and slightly disreputable but is patronised by minor indy celbretites. Stephen Marchent was there last night for instance (he is impossibly tall, so tall cranes nest in his hair and launch off him to hunt for chips on the pub floor, I had to dodge a few getting drinks) Anywho - it struck me while ordering a lime and soda water that I had against all my efforts and intentions become a yuppie. I am a professional, I live in barnsbury, I have bulgar wheat noddles in my cupboard along with squid ink pasta and soya milk and was drinking in a place called monkeychew, drinking wine in fact. It is always suprising to find yourself in an eighties archetype. In fact I am in two I am also a DINKY. THe horror the horror. To counteract this I must start doing worthy and intellectual things to justify my exsitence. Thus I shall as of tomorrow (I have started drinking tonight and thus cannot) shall begin to write. Boyakashan (apparently) | | Wednesday, November 8th, 2006 | | 1:37 pm |
The president is married to the joker
See http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_pictures/6124168.stm if you don't believe me. Work drifts past in a miasmic daze. It is not to bad, at least people are nice but I have now been firmly gripped by the Quest for More money, also by the lurking feeling that what I'm doing isn't that interesting. Anywho home to my amor and peace if a few short hours. Considering Marakesh for next year. Anyone been there? Is it nice? can you get there by boat? | | Thursday, November 2nd, 2006 | | 11:39 pm |
The strange burden of ...
... anxiety. It is not something I used to suffer from but now occassionally it grips me like a terrible vice. Get myself locked in a terrible cycle of worrying about something. Usually something trivial and non-sensicle and which I usually will just be solved by time. However I am unable to shake it from my conciousness until the matter has been resolved. It will loom over everything else, blotting out the sun. I am becoming a control freak and I don't like It is worse when I am tired and ill and has got to the stage now where I believe I need to something about it. Or maybe it is just a byproduce of adjustment to my new life and finally being a proper adult. Certainly something to ponder. Any suggestions? | | Saturday, October 21st, 2006 | | 10:56 am |
Rain..
and the return of the overtrouse. No self respecting gentleman or lady who engages in that most egregious method of transportation, the bicycle should venture forth without a set of waterproof overtousers. Not only do they protect from the splishy splashy of the rain and the spurt of the truck endused puddle wash. They also provide a splending cut and finish of an alluring figure when combined with dayglow orange waistcoat and helmet that cuts a dash when one stumbels sneezing and cold and dripping and gibbering into the office of a morning. My amor for reasons that perpelx me does not appreciate the image. She thinks it makes me look like a gimp. But a gimp who can be "SEEN". NO one can drive in the rain, everyone goes crazy and inept with the result that I get the schatenfreund peculiar to cyclists when you steam past the stalled row of cars to the junction at the end whereupon breaking you aquaplane on a puddle and bundle straight out into the middle of oncoming vehicles. There is nothing for it but to put your head down and cycle like a crazy mofo. Also I seem to provoke a strange jealousy in my co-workers, only the male ones mind. They say things like "oh I'd cycle in only it's to far, I'm to unfit, they won't let me take the bike on the train, the weathers to bad" etc etc. I just smile and nod and say "yes yes" and then cycle off home leaving them to sweat behind the impossibly slow traffic lights that exist only in St Albans (I waited at one once, I'm still there). Life with my amor is settling down nicely. We have, hopefully resolved all the appliance and utility issues that were bothering our place and now can strike out and lay waste to the world. Oh yes and the minions were usesless slow and inept. Now I know how No 1 in Smersh feels. I need a new and exciting pass time, any suggestions? Does anyone know where to get cheap harpsichords and leassons on how to repair them. It's going to be the latest thing. Trust me. | | Sunday, October 1st, 2006 | | 5:41 pm |
MORE POWER!
Mwahahahahaha, the fools, they have decided to give me minions to hoone into awesome legal machines. I'm getting two trainees for a bit, the construction of the empire goes on. This weekend marked a turning point as it was the first weekend where my amor and me did nothing, I think the settling in is now complete, the base is established and we can begin making sorties into the wilderness. Onwards hoo! | | Saturday, September 23rd, 2006 | | 6:18 pm |
We're up and running...
.. or at the very least stubbling foward with my arms flailing on the point of crashing to the floor with only the forward momentum sustaining me and the ever distant prospect of security beckoning in the distant. Yes folks I have the broady bandy thingy. Some strange tent like white object now sits on the floor flashing strange lights at me in a seemingly random pattern and by that strange black magic allows me to witter and warble and peruse the large and infinite web. I am assured I can get it to communicate with my steam powered lap top remotley. Presumably this utilises some kind of semophore and I shall be setting up a relay of mirrors so the study or "second bedroom" as the estate agents laughable categorised it can be used. Hello folks. I live in London now, I work somewhere else but work is largely an abomination and merely a means to the inevitable ends which is living with my amor in luxury and comfort and buying absurdly expensive food. I bougth a small bag of chocolate todau, impregnated with ginger and caroway seeds. It cost £7.00, less than all the vegetables for the week. New job and new flat and new life has bought about a seemingly unendnign schism with my former self. Allesandro has departed, who knows where, his work is done apparantly. Also William has returned. I should explain; I have been Will since the age of 12. To all I know and love I still am. I am not prepared to extend this honour to those at work and so to them I am William. A gestalt has emerged in personality, I am markedly more restrained at work than elsewhere. Still once I am established this will pass chaos will reign and the world will fall beneath my booted foots (feet I have discovered is an Americanism and thus should be scourged from our usage along with actioned, touch base (except in a porn context), enabaling and the mordern usage of the word enthusiastic). Bet you didn't know enthusiastic used to be an insult. It used to me consumed by an overwhelming religious fervour (in a way that was annoying and unwordly). Enthused you see. There endeth the lesson for now. TTFN | | Thursday, September 14th, 2006 | | 7:03 pm |
| | Wednesday, August 9th, 2006 | | 11:52 am |
It's all gone crazy.
Well, I start my job a week on monday. In St Albans. Haven't yet got a flat although we have an offer on a very nice one and we're waiting to here back if the landlord accepts it. My amor did all the leg work tracking it down and just a question of waiting: However before I start my new job the following must be done: 1) finish off all work hear 2) buy new suits 3) find a flat 4) 3 day hearing in leeds starting monday 5) see client in prison next thursday 6) go crazy with stress 7) move into new flat. It's a bit much. for those of you in leeds who are reading this I shall try and call you soon but it's all a bit last minute and crazy. I shall be tracking everyone down after the dust settles. | | Thursday, August 3rd, 2006 | | 1:18 pm |
Jobs, chaos and madness
After much shenaningans and rushing around and organising two things are going to happen. I start my new job in St Albans on the 21st August 2006. I have to find somewhere to live now with my amor. Also I shall be in Leeds for three days on the 14th for an case in Leeds employment tribunal. I then have to go and see a client on the 17th in Dorset, in prison in dorset to be precise. Probably move in to new house on 18th, and explode from stress and nervous tension some time in the next five minutes. So , after I have settled in and my heart has calmed itself a little and my life has reached some kind of plateu I shall call you all. Also I have found out today, my future boss is going on maternity leave on the 22nd . Then apparantly it will be me and one other guy running their department. Now that's my kind of firm. CHiao. It's all to fast | | Friday, July 28th, 2006 | | 1:39 pm |
Holy Mackeroons!
I am shaking and trembeling like a little girl at her first ballet lesson. Reason is you see I have been offered a job, in St Albans. They want me to start, and this is the funny bit, on the 7th August. Arghhhhh! The terrible fear/joy. Anywho it looks like I may get to move in to London with my Amor by August after all. Much number crunching will have to be done. Thus my evil empire spreads across the world. | | Friday, July 21st, 2006 | | 10:05 am |
Real Ultimate Power.
All those who favfour, order , consitencty and the even hand of justice quail and tremble for I am a solicitor. As of Monday in fact but the certificate has just arrived in the post this morning. I am now the possesor of awesome power which inculde but are not limited to : The ability to perceive the absolute truth. Fire lighting from my fingers Drive at speed to and from court Disemble evade and embelish with no obvious symptoms Send legions of minions to their doom Stand to the left and slightly behing an evil overload looking knowing and suspicious. Cackle at will Verfy the existence of something. Ah tis good but odd. Still, the search for a job in London so I can move in with my amor continues. Incidently a chap (an underused word) in my office has gone crazy and is doing this: http://www.donegal2kenmare.co.uk/Also any of you heard of The Dangerous Book for Boys? Yes, well some of the illustrations were done by my Dad which is amusing. Its to damn hot. In an effort to cool the place down I am running an pipe several times round the room which has cool water flowing through it. It is not technically a hose because there is no outflow and hence legal. The water by the end of the prosses becomes superheated steam which we are using to power are machines. | | Thursday, June 8th, 2006 | | 8:49 am |
I have plastic in my eyes
The interviw was slightly not good. I did very well until I missed a simple an obvious point which made me look like a fool. All the chickens are dead. Some are still twitching but are not long for this world. Still life goes on. In that vein this has become the month of change. Heralded by the getting of contact lenses. TOday is the second day of wear. It feels, odd. I can see but my brain objects to the fact vision is perfect without the presence of glasses. Focus time and perspective is slightly different with the result I feel slightly dizzy and stumble around like a drunken fool in a chip shop. Sooner or later I will be doused in fat. I am experimenting in digital photography and if I can be bothered and work out how to do it I may post some photos. Big Brother has entered my life. I do not watch it but I was horrified to learn I know someone on it. My compatirot in the isolated village in which I rule with a soft velvet sponge informed me after reading the New of the World that there is a female on big brother called Grace, who we used to babysit when she was nine. This is quite funny really. Perhaps I shall try to get myself on one of the magazine shows and lie about her past life. Or perhaps not. | | Thursday, May 25th, 2006 | | 2:10 pm |
nubious corpus buttocks
I have a job interview next Friday. I know you are not supposed to count them but I have a thousand chickens, no ten thousand. |
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