Tuesday, 13th May 1997
CRF for the Morning Mail First-In-Man Tolerance Studies Brief questionnaire. Cross as many boxes as you like. Please fill in and return at your leisure.
I think the morning e-mail from B should be:
[ ] More about real issues concerning people today
[ ] More esoteric and "bollockified"
[ ] Less desparate in its effort to entertain
[ ] Less self-conscious, not that it is... is it?
[ ] A reflection of modern political and theological thought
[ ] Sautéed in a white wine and tarragon sauce, 30 mins gas mark 6
[ ] Scrapped and the writer torn apart by pigeons
Mornings in general should:
[ ] Start much later and include more coffee
[ ] Begin with the company song and five minutes' calasthenics
[ ] Be scrapped in favour of long lie-ins and 30-hour weeks
[ ] Go on forever, I can't get out of that bed early enough
[ ] Do my ironing and walk the dog
[ ] Be personified
[ ] Not be given the vote
I found this questionnaire:
[ ] Informative and illuminating
[ ] Time-consuming and risibly unfunny
[ ] Full of long words I couldn't undertsand
[ ] In my inbox a couple of minutes ago
[ ] Sleeping rough by the A40
[ ] So I get to keep it! MINE MINE MINE!
[ ] Where? There on the stair! Where on the stair? Right there!
[ ] Too long
[ ] Too short.
[B]
Friday, 28 March 2008
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Tell You Wicked Lies
Monday, 12th May 1997
Mmm, lovely coffee. Well, I must say that I've had a wonderful evening; the food was exquisite and the games, well, I don't think any of us have enjoyed ourselves this much in a long while. We must do this again some time. Actually, while you're there, could you unzip the back of my grope suit? I think I'm about ready to be unharnessed now...
Good to see that the popular media are frothing at the mouth again. This time they've singled out Manchester United FC to blame for child labour sweat-shops in India. Cah. Let's face it, none of us possess a wardrobe/chest of drawers/pile on the floor which is free from garments unslaved over by overworked, callous-fingered infants on 6p an hour, so we're all guilty. Hey, and even Anita Roddick bathes fortnightly in the blood of slaughtered schoolchildren, so nobody's perfect. And don't tell me it's too early to be degenerating to that level of sordid pseudo-polemic gratuitous nonsense: it's NEVER too early. Club me a seal, I'll be home for breakfast.
Coming up: Mother Theresa Fingered For Nagasaki.
B
Mmm, lovely coffee. Well, I must say that I've had a wonderful evening; the food was exquisite and the games, well, I don't think any of us have enjoyed ourselves this much in a long while. We must do this again some time. Actually, while you're there, could you unzip the back of my grope suit? I think I'm about ready to be unharnessed now...
Good to see that the popular media are frothing at the mouth again. This time they've singled out Manchester United FC to blame for child labour sweat-shops in India. Cah. Let's face it, none of us possess a wardrobe/chest of drawers/pile on the floor which is free from garments unslaved over by overworked, callous-fingered infants on 6p an hour, so we're all guilty. Hey, and even Anita Roddick bathes fortnightly in the blood of slaughtered schoolchildren, so nobody's perfect. And don't tell me it's too early to be degenerating to that level of sordid pseudo-polemic gratuitous nonsense: it's NEVER too early. Club me a seal, I'll be home for breakfast.
Coming up: Mother Theresa Fingered For Nagasaki.
B
Wednesday, 26 March 2008
Stranger Things
Friday, 9th May 1997
The dream dissolves into a warm, pink darkness and you realise that the morning is in your room.
Eyes open to see the curtains frothing light from through the window, colouring the walls and furniture with muted versions of their own.
Climbing out it's silently warm with that early post-night tang of chill clinging to your skin.
Autopilot on.
You shuffle to the window, pull back the edge of the curtain and peek out on a freshly-minted summer's day. Cloudless dusty blue, friendly hues, a potential joy to be in and of, light bouncing off itself to illuminate the shadows. This could be a really great day.
But first, coffee.
B
The dream dissolves into a warm, pink darkness and you realise that the morning is in your room.
Eyes open to see the curtains frothing light from through the window, colouring the walls and furniture with muted versions of their own.
Climbing out it's silently warm with that early post-night tang of chill clinging to your skin.
Autopilot on.
You shuffle to the window, pull back the edge of the curtain and peek out on a freshly-minted summer's day. Cloudless dusty blue, friendly hues, a potential joy to be in and of, light bouncing off itself to illuminate the shadows. This could be a really great day.
But first, coffee.
B
Tuesday, 25 March 2008
Howling Wolfpack In Formation Appear
Thursday, 8th May 1997
So there's a suicide cult called "Heaven's Gate". That's like naming your terrorist organisation "Ishtar" or "The Last Action Hero". If you got that, give yourself a pat on the back. If you found it funny, give yourself electro-convulsive therapy.
Bloke goes into a bar with this girl wearing nothing but a pair of red stilettoes, leather peaked cap and carrying a whip. The barman says to the bloke, "you could've put some pants on."
Girl goes into this bloke with a bar, knocks him flat and pinches his wallet. Not so much a joke, more a cautionary tale.
That's as far as I can remember, the alarm came on at that point, so I had to go to sleep.
b
So there's a suicide cult called "Heaven's Gate". That's like naming your terrorist organisation "Ishtar" or "The Last Action Hero". If you got that, give yourself a pat on the back. If you found it funny, give yourself electro-convulsive therapy.
Bloke goes into a bar with this girl wearing nothing but a pair of red stilettoes, leather peaked cap and carrying a whip. The barman says to the bloke, "you could've put some pants on."
Girl goes into this bloke with a bar, knocks him flat and pinches his wallet. Not so much a joke, more a cautionary tale.
That's as far as I can remember, the alarm came on at that point, so I had to go to sleep.
b
Monday, 24 March 2008
The Why of All
Wednesday, 7th May 1997
the why of all ( two haikus )
You don't want to know.
Believe me.
It's a long story.
Some other time.
Not here.
Not just yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
See me then.
Don't hold your breath.
B
the why of all ( two haikus )
You don't want to know.
Believe me.
It's a long story.
Some other time.
Not here.
Not just yet.
Maybe tomorrow.
See me then.
Don't hold your breath.
B
Friday, 21 March 2008
You're Standing On My Neck
Tuesday, 6th May 1997
Pyramid clown
With the ears hanging down
You're moving too fast for the sea
Somersault high
Custard pie in the sky
Assaulted with impunity
Carry my car made of foam
To the dark circus outside of town
Pyramid clown, run around
On your own
Pyramid clown
Shoot the audience down
A toy gun, real artillery
Play elephants
Polka-dot baggy pants
There's nobody paying to sea
Laugh till you scream oh for sky
Where the lights have no business to shine
Pyramid clown, you are mine
Till you die.
B
Pyramid clown
With the ears hanging down
You're moving too fast for the sea
Somersault high
Custard pie in the sky
Assaulted with impunity
Carry my car made of foam
To the dark circus outside of town
Pyramid clown, run around
On your own
Pyramid clown
Shoot the audience down
A toy gun, real artillery
Play elephants
Polka-dot baggy pants
There's nobody paying to sea
Laugh till you scream oh for sky
Where the lights have no business to shine
Pyramid clown, you are mine
Till you die.
B
Thursday, 20 March 2008
The Streets Run Red
Friday, 2nd May 1997
Wow. Labour landslide.
I didn't have the first blind clue that that was going to happen. If you always miss the news, never read the papers, and only catch five minutes of "current affairs" every day on popular radio, there is rather a lot that can take you by surprise.
And thank arse it did. Democracy been well and truly exercised. Not only did Michael Portillo, David Mellor and Gyles Brandreth lose their seats, but word has it that Paul Daniels might emigrate. Magic!
Order me a bus of Dianas and a Singapore Sling...
B
Wow. Labour landslide.
I didn't have the first blind clue that that was going to happen. If you always miss the news, never read the papers, and only catch five minutes of "current affairs" every day on popular radio, there is rather a lot that can take you by surprise.
And thank arse it did. Democracy been well and truly exercised. Not only did Michael Portillo, David Mellor and Gyles Brandreth lose their seats, but word has it that Paul Daniels might emigrate. Magic!
Order me a bus of Dianas and a Singapore Sling...
B
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Don't Be Happy, Just Worry
Thursday, 1st May 1997
Having no qualified opinion of my own regarding British politics (apart from "it's all bollocks, innit?") I panicked this morning and bought The Economist out of terror. And frankly, after reading the thing on the train, I still don't care. But not voting is not an option; we must all exercise our democratic right to support whichever bunch of losers we feel is less incompetent and malignant than the others, in the knowledge and fear that although the great undecided want to register a protest vote for change, they won't.
"I believe in coyotes and time as an abstract; golden words make practice, practice makes perfect, perfect is a fault and fault lines change; I believe my humour's wearing thin and change is what I believe in."
So in the spirit of the masses tonight I will cast my importantly insignificant vote and wake up tomorrow in a strange country, where I will continue to buy my pop music, listen to my comics, read my food and eat into the future.
B[X]
Having no qualified opinion of my own regarding British politics (apart from "it's all bollocks, innit?") I panicked this morning and bought The Economist out of terror. And frankly, after reading the thing on the train, I still don't care. But not voting is not an option; we must all exercise our democratic right to support whichever bunch of losers we feel is less incompetent and malignant than the others, in the knowledge and fear that although the great undecided want to register a protest vote for change, they won't.
"I believe in coyotes and time as an abstract; golden words make practice, practice makes perfect, perfect is a fault and fault lines change; I believe my humour's wearing thin and change is what I believe in."
So in the spirit of the masses tonight I will cast my importantly insignificant vote and wake up tomorrow in a strange country, where I will continue to buy my pop music, listen to my comics, read my food and eat into the future.
B[X]
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Geek Leeks
Wednesday, 30th April 1997
"Twin Town" - brilliant film. Sex, drugs and karaoke - the lot. "I Will Survive" finally gets the critical judgement I feel should be bestowed upon any cow who sings it, except perhaps Gloria Gaynor. And whatever you think about the Welsh - well, it confirms it, really. So a big thumbs up, under water, for twenty seconds.
Totally lost it on the train today standing up from my seat, my balance went completely and I went crashing head-first into some poor woman's lap. Fortunately she was embarrassed enough for the both of us, so I escaped unshamed. However, lest retribution be cast upon me from high, let it be known that I am suffering my own private hell of humiliation, and offer up this simple cautionary tale to you as penance.
Right, got to soak the cactus "as they say".
Keep on persevering
B
"Twin Town" - brilliant film. Sex, drugs and karaoke - the lot. "I Will Survive" finally gets the critical judgement I feel should be bestowed upon any cow who sings it, except perhaps Gloria Gaynor. And whatever you think about the Welsh - well, it confirms it, really. So a big thumbs up, under water, for twenty seconds.
Totally lost it on the train today standing up from my seat, my balance went completely and I went crashing head-first into some poor woman's lap. Fortunately she was embarrassed enough for the both of us, so I escaped unshamed. However, lest retribution be cast upon me from high, let it be known that I am suffering my own private hell of humiliation, and offer up this simple cautionary tale to you as penance.
Right, got to soak the cactus "as they say".
Keep on persevering
B
Monday, 17 March 2008
Nobody Gets Hurt If They Don't Act Funny
Tuesday, 29th April 1997
Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.
"Hello, my name is Joan Polglase, and I've been robbing banks, building societies and other financial holding establishments for the past twenty years.
"Like all hobbies, mine got started by accident when a friend at poly in Coventry suggested we subsidised our grants with a crime spree. This was the year of the Pistols, the Clash, and to a lesser extent the Boney M - there was a mad spirit of freedom and anarchy in the air, and I'd incinerated my brassieres during freshers' week. Bank robbery seemed like more of a personal form of expression. We held up the Barclays Bank in Coventry town centre with a replica German Luger and a sawn-off double- barrelled shotgun one of the local farmers had been using to mix the swill. Both totally harmless, but that's essentially the joy of urban terrorism, really, isn't it?
"Our crime spree came to an abrupt halt halfway through the second job when Zim, my partner, dropped the sawn-off on his foot. To our shock and surprise, the thing went off with an almighty blast and shot a hole in the ceiling, causing us to scarper, screaming, much to the bemusement of the people lying face down on the floor. Fortunately that evening we were off for our two-month interior design placement to Barcelona, it had all blown over by the time we got back.
"I left Coventry Polytechnic with an upper second in ID with Arch., and a suitcase full of used and unused twenties and tens. Pretty good start for a graduate."
B
Everybody be cool, this is a robbery.
"Hello, my name is Joan Polglase, and I've been robbing banks, building societies and other financial holding establishments for the past twenty years.
"Like all hobbies, mine got started by accident when a friend at poly in Coventry suggested we subsidised our grants with a crime spree. This was the year of the Pistols, the Clash, and to a lesser extent the Boney M - there was a mad spirit of freedom and anarchy in the air, and I'd incinerated my brassieres during freshers' week. Bank robbery seemed like more of a personal form of expression. We held up the Barclays Bank in Coventry town centre with a replica German Luger and a sawn-off double- barrelled shotgun one of the local farmers had been using to mix the swill. Both totally harmless, but that's essentially the joy of urban terrorism, really, isn't it?
"Our crime spree came to an abrupt halt halfway through the second job when Zim, my partner, dropped the sawn-off on his foot. To our shock and surprise, the thing went off with an almighty blast and shot a hole in the ceiling, causing us to scarper, screaming, much to the bemusement of the people lying face down on the floor. Fortunately that evening we were off for our two-month interior design placement to Barcelona, it had all blown over by the time we got back.
"I left Coventry Polytechnic with an upper second in ID with Arch., and a suitcase full of used and unused twenties and tens. Pretty good start for a graduate."
B
Friday, 14 March 2008
The Week Belches Into Life
Monday, 28th April 1997
Monday screams in on thin leather wings,
tearing the air,
scaring chair-warmers everywhere.
Weekends end, bleak weeks shriek awake,
taking the biscuit and having the cake,
making the day blaze,
phasing you, not pleasing you. Teasing you
from dreams of strange scenes,
welcomer than the familiar,
shaking you up
and out of the door for more of the same;
working grins, grim, forever things.
Monday begins.
Screaming in on thin leather wings.
-
B
Monday screams in on thin leather wings,
tearing the air,
scaring chair-warmers everywhere.
Weekends end, bleak weeks shriek awake,
taking the biscuit and having the cake,
making the day blaze,
phasing you, not pleasing you. Teasing you
from dreams of strange scenes,
welcomer than the familiar,
shaking you up
and out of the door for more of the same;
working grins, grim, forever things.
Monday begins.
Screaming in on thin leather wings.
-
B
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Lazy Diamond-Studded Flunkies
Friday, 25th April 1997
"Hello. My name is Ralph Theft, and I collect rocks and pebbles. I've been collecting since I went on holiday with my parents to Selsey when I was seven, and over the many years my collection has grown and grown. What I like about rocks and pebbles is the way that they've been around for millions of years and yet we take them for granted.
"This is one of my favourites. I found it on a beach in Margate in 1987, whilst on one of my frequent rock-and-pebble collecting holidays. It is almost perfectly round, and has been worn away by the tides and the elements over millions of years until it is now almost perfectly round. I like the yellowy-browny colour, it is almost like gold except not shiny. It is one of my favourites. On this one you can see the imprint of a fossilised shrimp. This one over here is green, and there's a hole in it. I'm not sure what it's proper name is, I think it's in Latin.
"Yes, it does take up a lot of space, haha. My friends used to say I was a bit mad, collecting 'old stones', but as they got to know me better they got used to my hobby. On the few occasions I see them briefly I try to bring them up to date on my collection, but I don't really think they're interested. Still, it gives me a lot of free time.
"Collecting pebbles and rocks has given me lots and lots of pleasure over the years. One day I hope to marry a lady who also likes rocks and pebbles and have children who I can share my collection with."
-
b
"Hello. My name is Ralph Theft, and I collect rocks and pebbles. I've been collecting since I went on holiday with my parents to Selsey when I was seven, and over the many years my collection has grown and grown. What I like about rocks and pebbles is the way that they've been around for millions of years and yet we take them for granted.
"This is one of my favourites. I found it on a beach in Margate in 1987, whilst on one of my frequent rock-and-pebble collecting holidays. It is almost perfectly round, and has been worn away by the tides and the elements over millions of years until it is now almost perfectly round. I like the yellowy-browny colour, it is almost like gold except not shiny. It is one of my favourites. On this one you can see the imprint of a fossilised shrimp. This one over here is green, and there's a hole in it. I'm not sure what it's proper name is, I think it's in Latin.
"Yes, it does take up a lot of space, haha. My friends used to say I was a bit mad, collecting 'old stones', but as they got to know me better they got used to my hobby. On the few occasions I see them briefly I try to bring them up to date on my collection, but I don't really think they're interested. Still, it gives me a lot of free time.
"Collecting pebbles and rocks has given me lots and lots of pleasure over the years. One day I hope to marry a lady who also likes rocks and pebbles and have children who I can share my collection with."
-
b
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
"I Feel Unusual"
Thursday, 24th April 1997
63-year old woman gives birth to baby after lying to doctor about age in order to receive fertility treatment. Doctor claims he didn't know, and gives relaxed, well-choreographed interviews explaining that the woman claimed to be 53. Own up, doc: you knew, she knew, you got her to say she lied so you wouldn't get disbarred and garner media savvy, you cynical connard. Bet you get your receptionist to fill out your CRFs, too.
Meh. Mr Grumpy is with us and must have put his scowly-trousers on this morning. Need coffee and inspiration.
Been reading Richard E Grant's film diaries; I'm about thirty pages in and already it's a triumph of the human spirit; God knows what kind of ubermensch he becomes at the end of it. He'll be glad to know that somewhere in Uxbridge there's a dying cactus named for him. And unfortunately, there is no cure for cactus frostbite, but as Reg has refused treatment (wishing to shrivel with dignity) what can you do?
The Khoi Kalahari Bushmen have a philosophy: THIS IS A DREAM THAT IS DREAMING YOU. How is you dream going?
Sweet livings,
B
63-year old woman gives birth to baby after lying to doctor about age in order to receive fertility treatment. Doctor claims he didn't know, and gives relaxed, well-choreographed interviews explaining that the woman claimed to be 53. Own up, doc: you knew, she knew, you got her to say she lied so you wouldn't get disbarred and garner media savvy, you cynical connard. Bet you get your receptionist to fill out your CRFs, too.
Meh. Mr Grumpy is with us and must have put his scowly-trousers on this morning. Need coffee and inspiration.
Been reading Richard E Grant's film diaries; I'm about thirty pages in and already it's a triumph of the human spirit; God knows what kind of ubermensch he becomes at the end of it. He'll be glad to know that somewhere in Uxbridge there's a dying cactus named for him. And unfortunately, there is no cure for cactus frostbite, but as Reg has refused treatment (wishing to shrivel with dignity) what can you do?
The Khoi Kalahari Bushmen have a philosophy: THIS IS A DREAM THAT IS DREAMING YOU. How is you dream going?
Sweet livings,
B
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
St Rentokill
Wednesday, 23rd April 1997
Happy St George's Day, and a belated "shalom" for the beginning of Pesach yesterday.
Today is the day that the country sets aside to commemorate a medieval knight or something murdering a dragon. For this, a possibly apocryphal historical figure known only as George is beatified as a witness of Christ and is made the patron saint of England. Hunh? Isn't that a bit like being awarded a Nobel for weeding the garden?
While we're on the subject of dodgy saints, let us not forget that although St Patrick was a top missionary (don't even think it) and bringer of peace, he was made patron saint of Ireland for ridding the country of snakes. Duh? I must have missed something here...
St B
Happy St George's Day, and a belated "shalom" for the beginning of Pesach yesterday.
Today is the day that the country sets aside to commemorate a medieval knight or something murdering a dragon. For this, a possibly apocryphal historical figure known only as George is beatified as a witness of Christ and is made the patron saint of England. Hunh? Isn't that a bit like being awarded a Nobel for weeding the garden?
While we're on the subject of dodgy saints, let us not forget that although St Patrick was a top missionary (don't even think it) and bringer of peace, he was made patron saint of Ireland for ridding the country of snakes. Duh? I must have missed something here...
St B
Monday, 10 March 2008
Just Like Beggars Canyon
Tuesday, 22nd April 1997
Cripes criminy, snakes alive, lawks a mercy and spung, finally got round to seeing "Star Wars" last night. Loved the way they made the bolted-on parts fit in by giving the effects a "grainy" quality, and the fact that the Jabba scene was obviously originally replaced by the "Caught by Greedo" scene, as the dialogue was almost identical, plus Greedo (last seen being shot dead) is visible on guard by the entrance to the ship. And did they change the first shot of the Everyone-Gets-A-Medal scene? (where's me anorak...)
In this workaday world, it's heartening to hear of one man earning £20,000 for just over five minutes' work. No, not the snooker player who made the 147 break last night, the chairman of British Gas! Ha ha ha ha ha no but seriously folks, ha ha, no, really, stop throwing stuff...
Today, ask lots of important questions that have been bugging you for ages.
B
Cripes criminy, snakes alive, lawks a mercy and spung, finally got round to seeing "Star Wars" last night. Loved the way they made the bolted-on parts fit in by giving the effects a "grainy" quality, and the fact that the Jabba scene was obviously originally replaced by the "Caught by Greedo" scene, as the dialogue was almost identical, plus Greedo (last seen being shot dead) is visible on guard by the entrance to the ship. And did they change the first shot of the Everyone-Gets-A-Medal scene? (where's me anorak...)
In this workaday world, it's heartening to hear of one man earning £20,000 for just over five minutes' work. No, not the snooker player who made the 147 break last night, the chairman of British Gas! Ha ha ha ha ha no but seriously folks, ha ha, no, really, stop throwing stuff...
Today, ask lots of important questions that have been bugging you for ages.
B
Friday, 7 March 2008
The People On The Edge Of The Night
Monday, 21st April 1997
Where one man can stand in defence of his right to be free, there can a country be founded. Where one voice can soar on eagle's wings without fear of impediment, there can be freedom found. And where one nation can march with pride to exercise their right in the future of their country's government, there, is democracy.
So here we are, less than three weeks from the single-most important democratic and political event in the country's recent history, and I couldn't be less excited. I can't remember if I voted in the last election (I'd like to think I did, but 1992 was a blur), and I know I'm going to this year, but who could you possibly want to vote for? They're all politicians. Career power dilletantes and wannabees, polished figureheads, echoing promises, raising expectations, depressing hope. A system which lacks faith in itself that has lost the faith of those for whom it was set up.
There seems to be no choice any more. Change is dressed as a turn for the worse, a waltzing rawbones in rags, cackling, waiting to fade as we plod on into another inevitable four years. And we are the lucky ones, fortunate that we are not in the grip of revolutionary fervour, either our own or someone else's, that robs us of the right to chose for ourselves. But what choice?
Well, it won't stop me from voting. Think I'll vote for myself.
B
Where one man can stand in defence of his right to be free, there can a country be founded. Where one voice can soar on eagle's wings without fear of impediment, there can be freedom found. And where one nation can march with pride to exercise their right in the future of their country's government, there, is democracy.
So here we are, less than three weeks from the single-most important democratic and political event in the country's recent history, and I couldn't be less excited. I can't remember if I voted in the last election (I'd like to think I did, but 1992 was a blur), and I know I'm going to this year, but who could you possibly want to vote for? They're all politicians. Career power dilletantes and wannabees, polished figureheads, echoing promises, raising expectations, depressing hope. A system which lacks faith in itself that has lost the faith of those for whom it was set up.
There seems to be no choice any more. Change is dressed as a turn for the worse, a waltzing rawbones in rags, cackling, waiting to fade as we plod on into another inevitable four years. And we are the lucky ones, fortunate that we are not in the grip of revolutionary fervour, either our own or someone else's, that robs us of the right to chose for ourselves. But what choice?
Well, it won't stop me from voting. Think I'll vote for myself.
B
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Teabags and Hairnets
Friday, 18th April 1997
What could possibly be the most overused and teeth-grindingly fatuous phrase that people tack on the end of a sentence when they feel self-conscious? A good candidate for the running is "as they say".
'I'm just going to pop out for a mo, "as they say"....'
or
'Shall we make tracks, "as they say"?'
Eeerk.
_
In the news today: scientists in Australia have discovered that drinking beer is good for you and prevents heart disease. They are currently working to prove that travelling around the world working in bars and talking about it all the bloody time stops hair loss, and are also developing a cure for piles through sheep shagging.
Meh, as they say.
B
What could possibly be the most overused and teeth-grindingly fatuous phrase that people tack on the end of a sentence when they feel self-conscious? A good candidate for the running is "as they say".
'I'm just going to pop out for a mo, "as they say"....'
or
'Shall we make tracks, "as they say"?'
Eeerk.
_
In the news today: scientists in Australia have discovered that drinking beer is good for you and prevents heart disease. They are currently working to prove that travelling around the world working in bars and talking about it all the bloody time stops hair loss, and are also developing a cure for piles through sheep shagging.
Meh, as they say.
B
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
An Horror of Rooms
Thursday, 17th April 1997
The only constant is change. That means, eventually, that the constant itself will change and we will be locked in a loop of familiarity and eventlessness. "Or is that just bollocks, Les?"
The most boring cab driver in the world lives down past the Old Bill pub off an alley in a fly-blown shed. Through the course of your journey he will mutter through his moustache in a thick pastoral Irish accent (the kind where you can usually only pick out the word "fock'n"), causing you to politely attune your hearing so as to facilitate understanding, until you realise that he's talking in detail about what he had for dinner in 1977. He's probably a really lovely bloke but he'll mumble the hind legs off of you.
Eat your greens. One day they'll be eating you.
B
The only constant is change. That means, eventually, that the constant itself will change and we will be locked in a loop of familiarity and eventlessness. "Or is that just bollocks, Les?"
The most boring cab driver in the world lives down past the Old Bill pub off an alley in a fly-blown shed. Through the course of your journey he will mutter through his moustache in a thick pastoral Irish accent (the kind where you can usually only pick out the word "fock'n"), causing you to politely attune your hearing so as to facilitate understanding, until you realise that he's talking in detail about what he had for dinner in 1977. He's probably a really lovely bloke but he'll mumble the hind legs off of you.
Eat your greens. One day they'll be eating you.
B
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
Mind Clippings
Wednesday, 16th April 1997
Integrity is intention in proportion to action.
What is the phrase "a congruent oxymoron"?
My cactus still has frost damage.
The universe is accidental, possibly even a mistake.
Is "is" is?
B...
Integrity is intention in proportion to action.
What is the phrase "a congruent oxymoron"?
My cactus still has frost damage.
The universe is accidental, possibly even a mistake.
Is "is" is?
B...
Monday, 3 March 2008
The Meaning & Explanation of Life In Under 300 Words
Tuesday, 15th April 1997
So let's get this straight. Life eventually occurs where extremes of heat brush against extremes of cold at very high pressures. Hence the highly specialised and evolved species of fish and ridiculously coloured invertebrates living at the bottom of the ocean near vents in the earth's crust since it all kicked off.
This is where we get our duality from, right? We split everything into night & day, black & white, men & women, good & evil, because we carry the genetic memory of our origins; that we were born from opposite extremes that by their nature were never meant to meet. Right. And there's the Vostok Sea which is some x-hundred metres beneath the Antarctic ice cap where living organisms have been found that are 500,000 years old a piece.
And there's the Movile caves in under a field in Romania (thanks Caroline); several caverns way underground spanning some 120 sq km, linked by an underground river, the only way to each of them is underwater; the atmosphere is poisoningly sulphourous, there is no light, and so far these two speliologist blokes have discovered 33 brand new life forms.
Know what that makes me think? That the meaning of life is to survive no matter what. Or where. By any means necessary. And that wherever there are temperature differences and solid/liquid conditions, say for example just about anywhere in the universe where there's stuff, life can, will, and evidently did pop into existence, find itself a rock to throw itself upon and cling on for enough millions of years of evolution until there are enough for one of them to send you this e-mail. So it's bound to happen. By accident.
But then you probably already knew that.
Keep on photosynthesising.
B
So let's get this straight. Life eventually occurs where extremes of heat brush against extremes of cold at very high pressures. Hence the highly specialised and evolved species of fish and ridiculously coloured invertebrates living at the bottom of the ocean near vents in the earth's crust since it all kicked off.
This is where we get our duality from, right? We split everything into night & day, black & white, men & women, good & evil, because we carry the genetic memory of our origins; that we were born from opposite extremes that by their nature were never meant to meet. Right. And there's the Vostok Sea which is some x-hundred metres beneath the Antarctic ice cap where living organisms have been found that are 500,000 years old a piece.
And there's the Movile caves in under a field in Romania (thanks Caroline); several caverns way underground spanning some 120 sq km, linked by an underground river, the only way to each of them is underwater; the atmosphere is poisoningly sulphourous, there is no light, and so far these two speliologist blokes have discovered 33 brand new life forms.
Know what that makes me think? That the meaning of life is to survive no matter what. Or where. By any means necessary. And that wherever there are temperature differences and solid/liquid conditions, say for example just about anywhere in the universe where there's stuff, life can, will, and evidently did pop into existence, find itself a rock to throw itself upon and cling on for enough millions of years of evolution until there are enough for one of them to send you this e-mail. So it's bound to happen. By accident.
But then you probably already knew that.
Keep on photosynthesising.
B
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