Category VI - The Strange
Attractor
Though you're not quite sure why, people are drawn
to you like moths to a flame. You really
are too cool for words.
What Type of Social Entity are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Friday, September 24, 2004
Music is The Light.
Category VI - The Strange
Attractor
Though you're not quite sure why, people are drawn
to you like moths to a flame. You really
are too cool for words.
What Type of Social Entity are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Only three days til Kleptomania
Another week has reached it's end, earlyish thankfully. So i'm sat listening to M83 whilst i'm writing this. I must say i like it a lot and this is just my first listen. I'd heard they were like My Bloody Valentine, and i'd agree from what i've heard so far. It sounds too, like Jean Michel Jarre and Sven Vath behind the warm distortion. I wish i could listen to music at work somehow.
Because i'm in the large, open-plan office, where there are no radios, i only hear distant or brief bits of music throughout the day. I f i could listen to music like this whilst at work, i probably wouldn't do a great deal. I'd just sit, staring at the sky through what classes as windows in an ex Naval base-entertainments hall, with 3 foot thick blast-proof walls. Or perhaps gaze at the plant i purloined from a corridor months ago. Hmm. Alternatively, use flexi-time and go home.
Had a pint of Guinness at lunchtime which was just lovely. Saying good bye to one of the Uniformed Caseworkers, which is to say a caseworker who is also a prison officer, leaving for a job, this one less than 4 miles, rather than Wetherby at 49 miles from his home. Didn't have anything to eat, one grazes all day in the Civil Service, so the Guinness sat nicely in me, but left me wanting more. Thus i didn't really get much done. Not that much gets done anyway, but...
I can't be bothered to Rant so i'll juts tell you that the picture above is from Calke Abbey, in the east midlands of England, out in their conservatory.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
Monday, September 13, 2004
My Mate Ru.
I spent time in this garden over the weekend. I feel like the luckiest guy alive whenever i visit my friend Rupert. Consider this: He lives there. Now i'm a big fan of the seaside and i'm a fan of impressive monuments, but i'm a country boy at heart and if i could die anywhere it would be in the village of King's Cliffe. The sun was shining and the skies were blue. The last six weekends or so we've been blessed in this country, the weather has been staggering. Not too hot and almost constantly sunny. I've returned to work every Monday with at least a little sunburn.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
A Couple of Days Late.
So my foray into working two jobs has ended already. I just couldn’t cope with being at work for another 12 hours a week. It was too much. I missed sitting down and immersing myself in a film for an hour and a half or so, or watching some mindless TV. The things I claimed to not care about are the things that I missed most. Shazbat.
My Monday evening is taken up with Band Practice, though we haven’t had one now for at least a month, the last one we had was when we were having torrential rain and it was leaking into the studio. My Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were spent at Tesco’s pleasure. Friday was the only evening of relaxation and the Weekend was spent with my lovely girlfriend, so not much time to myself really. I didn’t particularly notice that that was the problem, nor was I physically tired. It was just being knackered all the time and having to rush to and from my jobs that was taking the toll on me.
After a particularly heavy night on the beer I slept for 15 hours, this was perhaps the defining moment for me. I have never, except under really crazy circumstances slept for such a period of time and whilst it didn’t worry me it rather goes against my grain. I hate spending what little time I’m left from my job, sleeping. I want to spend every minute of my non-working days running around doing things, dancing naked down supermarket aisles, dancing naked round municipal parks or just plain dancing naked!
Whatever, it’s over and I feel defeated. But not as defeated as I felt by downloading an official music download. I spent 99 pence downloading Mansun’s last single Slipping Away. When it had downloaded I attempted to play it but then it kept trying to acquire a license, which it wouldn’t do. I was destroyed. The future of music eh? Paying to download things that then won’t work. How come I’ve downloaded hundred’s of Gb’s of films and music and TV and games, none of which are paid for and they work fine? Why doesn’t Windows complain that they need licenses? I was so fucked off I retired to my room and watched an episode of Jeeves & Wooster, which very nearly calmed me down.
Anyway, aren’t the photo’s I’ve posted lovely? They’re of Robin Hood’s Bay that is along the coast from Scarborough. Emily and I have been exploring the East Coast over the last few weekends. We visited Scarborough on the 14th August, where the beach was ram-jammed with people before making our way along the coast down to Filey, where the beach had disappeared beneath the waves and then to the lighthouse out at Flamborough Head, which doesn’t really have a beach. We came back to York and went for a mexican at the delightful Fiesta Mexicana that finished the day of brilliantly.
The following weekend we made our way to Robin Hood’s Bay, most of the recent photographs come from there. The weather was gorgeous, the traffic was awful and the company was the best. When we got down to the bay we started to walk out to the sea just as the rain started to come down. We were walking toward the sea as everyone else there was walking back. When we reached the sea it had started to drizzle, so we stood there for a while before walking back. As we returned the skies cleared again and it stopped raining! The drive back was lovely, if not a little cloudy.
Next was the Bank Holiday weekend. I’d booked the Friday off so as to enjoy a nice long weekend courtesy of Her Maj’s Bank Holiday and my brother and sister-in-law travelled up from Reading for the weekend. We drove over to Redcar in the morning, which is a lot further North than Scarborough and is where I have family. We strolled up and down the promenade, which just went to show how seaside towns are dying, and in today’s world, have little or nothing to offer visitors or residents, before travelling to our Auntie Dot’s for a lovely meal and a chat. Fully fed and happy we travelled slightly south down the coast to Saltburn-on-Sea, where there was still plenty of beach and a couple of pubs overlooking it. As it had been a sunny day and I’d been to the coast three weekends on the trot I figured I really should go in the sea. Utterly unprepared; trousers up to thighs, I staggered into the freezing water. Exhilarating isn’t quite the word. That people go and hurl themselves in, for charity granted, on New Years Day has always amazed me. It wasn’t enough though, so in returned to the shore and dropped my trousers. I went in wearing just my pants, and t-shirt. By ‘eck it were right cold. But it was good fun and a man gave me his towel (possibly from his boot used to dry his dog, but hey! nice gesture anyway) and I towelled myself off before going commando for the rest of the day. To celebrate the Madness of King Oll we went to one of the pubs that overlooked the beach and had a drink.
My Monday evening is taken up with Band Practice, though we haven’t had one now for at least a month, the last one we had was when we were having torrential rain and it was leaking into the studio. My Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday were spent at Tesco’s pleasure. Friday was the only evening of relaxation and the Weekend was spent with my lovely girlfriend, so not much time to myself really. I didn’t particularly notice that that was the problem, nor was I physically tired. It was just being knackered all the time and having to rush to and from my jobs that was taking the toll on me.
After a particularly heavy night on the beer I slept for 15 hours, this was perhaps the defining moment for me. I have never, except under really crazy circumstances slept for such a period of time and whilst it didn’t worry me it rather goes against my grain. I hate spending what little time I’m left from my job, sleeping. I want to spend every minute of my non-working days running around doing things, dancing naked down supermarket aisles, dancing naked round municipal parks or just plain dancing naked!
Whatever, it’s over and I feel defeated. But not as defeated as I felt by downloading an official music download. I spent 99 pence downloading Mansun’s last single Slipping Away. When it had downloaded I attempted to play it but then it kept trying to acquire a license, which it wouldn’t do. I was destroyed. The future of music eh? Paying to download things that then won’t work. How come I’ve downloaded hundred’s of Gb’s of films and music and TV and games, none of which are paid for and they work fine? Why doesn’t Windows complain that they need licenses? I was so fucked off I retired to my room and watched an episode of Jeeves & Wooster, which very nearly calmed me down.
Anyway, aren’t the photo’s I’ve posted lovely? They’re of Robin Hood’s Bay that is along the coast from Scarborough. Emily and I have been exploring the East Coast over the last few weekends. We visited Scarborough on the 14th August, where the beach was ram-jammed with people before making our way along the coast down to Filey, where the beach had disappeared beneath the waves and then to the lighthouse out at Flamborough Head, which doesn’t really have a beach. We came back to York and went for a mexican at the delightful Fiesta Mexicana that finished the day of brilliantly.
The following weekend we made our way to Robin Hood’s Bay, most of the recent photographs come from there. The weather was gorgeous, the traffic was awful and the company was the best. When we got down to the bay we started to walk out to the sea just as the rain started to come down. We were walking toward the sea as everyone else there was walking back. When we reached the sea it had started to drizzle, so we stood there for a while before walking back. As we returned the skies cleared again and it stopped raining! The drive back was lovely, if not a little cloudy.
Next was the Bank Holiday weekend. I’d booked the Friday off so as to enjoy a nice long weekend courtesy of Her Maj’s Bank Holiday and my brother and sister-in-law travelled up from Reading for the weekend. We drove over to Redcar in the morning, which is a lot further North than Scarborough and is where I have family. We strolled up and down the promenade, which just went to show how seaside towns are dying, and in today’s world, have little or nothing to offer visitors or residents, before travelling to our Auntie Dot’s for a lovely meal and a chat. Fully fed and happy we travelled slightly south down the coast to Saltburn-on-Sea, where there was still plenty of beach and a couple of pubs overlooking it. As it had been a sunny day and I’d been to the coast three weekends on the trot I figured I really should go in the sea. Utterly unprepared; trousers up to thighs, I staggered into the freezing water. Exhilarating isn’t quite the word. That people go and hurl themselves in, for charity granted, on New Years Day has always amazed me. It wasn’t enough though, so in returned to the shore and dropped my trousers. I went in wearing just my pants, and t-shirt. By ‘eck it were right cold. But it was good fun and a man gave me his towel (possibly from his boot used to dry his dog, but hey! nice gesture anyway) and I towelled myself off before going commando for the rest of the day. To celebrate the Madness of King Oll we went to one of the pubs that overlooked the beach and had a drink.
Monday, September 06, 2004
Thieving Cunts
Just paid 99 pence for the new Mansun single and WMP will not play it because it can't download a fucking license and the huge corporate website that sold me it doesn't have any help file or any information about licenses. Fucking great...
Sunday, September 05, 2004
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
How to get rid of the midweek blues.
The answer to all those mid-week, crap telly, boring sections of my life given away to entertainment from an entertainment box, is Simple. I have taken second employment, you see, in the services of a supermarket behemoth on three evenings in the week. It means that i'll actually be earning the amount my first job pays me before deductions. Which is still not really enough. I essentially work a 37 hr week with Her Majesty's plus 12 hours for the Universe Consolidators. It's like badly paid overtime. Hmm.
And you might wonder, particularly if you know me, why i should suddenly, age 25, start working hard and trying to improve my financial standing? I wonder too friend. Long and Hard i've Wondered. Many a night. Wondered. Fork knows...
But it isn't as tiring as you might think. Oddly it's not hard work, neither of my jobs involves the all out athleticism that harvesting the lettuce did. Which really was fun in it's own way. And good for me. Both of my current daytime pastimes are, as one of my University Tutors pointed out, Information Processing roles. Both too are jobs that have a limited lifespan in the whole running of the Universe type stakes. Computers will eventually do all our shopping for us and eventually they will also do all our administration too. So i'm not exactly gonna be remembered for my dashing filing and charming gait, and wonderful way with the middle aged ladies.
I went on W. I. Trips (or W. I. Trip according to my Mum who says she only ever took me on one) when i was younger and obviously when you're young and marginally cheeky, in a slightly less cute/actually funny way, older ladies take a shine to you. I suppose something rub offed. Or rubbed off. Or even rob a dob dob, Da^id Ha$$lehoff. Or not.
Yes, rub offed on me it did. I must smell of them, or smell of something they like. Or maybe i glow. Whatever it is, i'm a hit with the older lady in the workplace.
Sadly it's neither use nor ornament; won't earn me cash lest i become a male escort - anyone know how much you earn? - nor will it leave me well remembered for changing the world/universe/fishtank.
While you're not looking, supermarkets aisles and shelves continuously move like in the Magical Boy In the Film of Hollywood, where it's the stairs and corridors. So that is why things seem never to be where they are. This is NOT necessarily true of all supermarkets its only the one i work in that i know about. It's simple, it makes you stay longer than you have to.
And you might wonder, particularly if you know me, why i should suddenly, age 25, start working hard and trying to improve my financial standing? I wonder too friend. Long and Hard i've Wondered. Many a night. Wondered. Fork knows...
But it isn't as tiring as you might think. Oddly it's not hard work, neither of my jobs involves the all out athleticism that harvesting the lettuce did. Which really was fun in it's own way. And good for me. Both of my current daytime pastimes are, as one of my University Tutors pointed out, Information Processing roles. Both too are jobs that have a limited lifespan in the whole running of the Universe type stakes. Computers will eventually do all our shopping for us and eventually they will also do all our administration too. So i'm not exactly gonna be remembered for my dashing filing and charming gait, and wonderful way with the middle aged ladies.
I went on W. I. Trips (or W. I. Trip according to my Mum who says she only ever took me on one) when i was younger and obviously when you're young and marginally cheeky, in a slightly less cute/actually funny way, older ladies take a shine to you. I suppose something rub offed. Or rubbed off. Or even rob a dob dob, Da^id Ha$$lehoff. Or not.
Yes, rub offed on me it did. I must smell of them, or smell of something they like. Or maybe i glow. Whatever it is, i'm a hit with the older lady in the workplace.
Sadly it's neither use nor ornament; won't earn me cash lest i become a male escort - anyone know how much you earn? - nor will it leave me well remembered for changing the world/universe/fishtank.
While you're not looking, supermarkets aisles and shelves continuously move like in the Magical Boy In the Film of Hollywood, where it's the stairs and corridors. So that is why things seem never to be where they are. This is NOT necessarily true of all supermarkets its only the one i work in that i know about. It's simple, it makes you stay longer than you have to.
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Love Will Tear Us Apart
Driving Out of Manchester Towards The Dark Peaks
Bill Laswell, Jah Wobble and Dr. Alex Patterson have got it going on.
But at the moment i have not. I am unhappy with my little lot or my lot of very little. I'm 'going out'/'seeing'/'in a relationship with' or perhaps my favourite, 'courting' a girl who's job is in London. Likewise her career for the forseeable future, that too being forged, in London.
Now i'm not someone who thinks the streets are paved with gold down there. Being as I am, a country boy i have no such wish to seek my fame and fortune there. I don't think i'd like to live somewhere that made me feel so insignificant, but, maybe i'm just crazy. Post millenial paranoia and fear of the urban society, so pockmarked by it's environs and denizens. Not for me thanks.
I feel no romanticism about the city and it's years of history and i do not see it as the centre of the universe. Should I? Or do i sound like a thirteenth century peasant? Probably both. Manchester was pleasant on Saturday evening when we were there. Good stuff in a good space. Trousers arse feck.
Bill Laswell, Jah Wobble and Dr. Alex Patterson have got it going on.
But at the moment i have not. I am unhappy with my little lot or my lot of very little. I'm 'going out'/'seeing'/'in a relationship with' or perhaps my favourite, 'courting' a girl who's job is in London. Likewise her career for the forseeable future, that too being forged, in London.
Now i'm not someone who thinks the streets are paved with gold down there. Being as I am, a country boy i have no such wish to seek my fame and fortune there. I don't think i'd like to live somewhere that made me feel so insignificant, but, maybe i'm just crazy. Post millenial paranoia and fear of the urban society, so pockmarked by it's environs and denizens. Not for me thanks.
I feel no romanticism about the city and it's years of history and i do not see it as the centre of the universe. Should I? Or do i sound like a thirteenth century peasant? Probably both. Manchester was pleasant on Saturday evening when we were there. Good stuff in a good space. Trousers arse feck.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)