I've posted part 2 of my story on the euro-chimaera forums, which can be found at the link below.
http://www.euro-chimaera.co.uk/forum/showthread.php?t=2157
PS. In other news, we lost a ridge tile off the roof in the high winds last night. It's perilously perched in the gutter at the side of the house.
The toaster broke today. The shower broke last week. We had to replace the main house phone as it was knackered in the last two weeks as well.
Ah man, so much for the year of not spending much >.<
Saturday, 26 January 2008
Friday, 25 January 2008
Windy...
The wind was battering the house all last night again, and it's still windy as hell today. Cold too.
I'm feeling a bit listless at the moment, like I'm just waiting for something to happen. Not sure what. Hopefully it'll be something pleasant and/or lucrative.
Can't think of much more to say, but wanted to post something! Might post more later, when I'm feeling a bit more inspired!
I'm feeling a bit listless at the moment, like I'm just waiting for something to happen. Not sure what. Hopefully it'll be something pleasant and/or lucrative.
Can't think of much more to say, but wanted to post something! Might post more later, when I'm feeling a bit more inspired!
Friday, 18 January 2008
Random Musings
Iam so glad Kevin Keegan is back at Newcastle. I respect Sam Allardyce for what he honestly tried to do, but I think he might have brought a small club mentality with him to a Church Of Football like St. James' Park. It was always going to end in tears.
Even if we don't win anything, just having 'one of us' at the helm, who wants to motivate the players to really go out and express themselves should mean that a bit of pride will be restored. It'd be too much to hope that the glory days would ever come back, but you just never know with KK around. Welcome back Kev, you have been missed.
The wind is howling at our windows tonight; this will be the 60mph winds that the News was warning about tonight. It's battering the house, but amazingly the little one is sleeping right through it. A trait she picks up from her Dad, I suspect ;)
I applied for 3 new jobs today, hopefully one of them will work out as I'm f*****g sick of the place I'm at currently. 8 years I'll have been there this year, probably 5 years too long in retrospect. Ah well, you live and learn, eh? I turn 30 this August, and 2008 seems as good a watershed year as any; I'm notorious for sticking to safety, and what I know, and branching out a bit may do me a power of good.
Fingers crossed.
Even if we don't win anything, just having 'one of us' at the helm, who wants to motivate the players to really go out and express themselves should mean that a bit of pride will be restored. It'd be too much to hope that the glory days would ever come back, but you just never know with KK around. Welcome back Kev, you have been missed.
The wind is howling at our windows tonight; this will be the 60mph winds that the News was warning about tonight. It's battering the house, but amazingly the little one is sleeping right through it. A trait she picks up from her Dad, I suspect ;)
I applied for 3 new jobs today, hopefully one of them will work out as I'm f*****g sick of the place I'm at currently. 8 years I'll have been there this year, probably 5 years too long in retrospect. Ah well, you live and learn, eh? I turn 30 this August, and 2008 seems as good a watershed year as any; I'm notorious for sticking to safety, and what I know, and branching out a bit may do me a power of good.
Fingers crossed.
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
Call To Arms
Stand your ground, my valiant cousins, for we live beneath a lie!
Raise your blades in righteousness, for truth has stood too long a-wry!
Hold the torch of Justice to the wine-drenched wood of noble pyres!
Tear the scaffold down, before your necks are stretched by spiteful Squires!
Scream old whispered exhortations, bring them to their gouty knees!
Prove them false, and cowards all, you weary kin of Ulysses!
Farmers, bring your scythes; cut down these rotten crops of ancient days,
The good soil festers from these gaudy, poisoned weeds set in their ways.
These feudal felons beat you, rob you, mark the ground that you may plough,
Let villains reap a bitter harvest from the furrow of your brow!
Are you not angered by their banquets, while your children starve and die?
These Dogs have gold, which murders Need, which murdered them in passing by.
Upon the hilltop hang our heroes crucified. O Misery!
What honest man can hold his tears surveying freedom's Calvary?
Be unashamed of all your weeping, for it weighs your honour's worth
More surely than a thousand claims and titles given at your birth.
If you lack courage but are proud, then listen; do not blame your tools!
The poor men make, the rich men take,
Who will time prove the greater fools?
Raise your blades in righteousness, for truth has stood too long a-wry!
Hold the torch of Justice to the wine-drenched wood of noble pyres!
Tear the scaffold down, before your necks are stretched by spiteful Squires!
Scream old whispered exhortations, bring them to their gouty knees!
Prove them false, and cowards all, you weary kin of Ulysses!
Farmers, bring your scythes; cut down these rotten crops of ancient days,
The good soil festers from these gaudy, poisoned weeds set in their ways.
These feudal felons beat you, rob you, mark the ground that you may plough,
Let villains reap a bitter harvest from the furrow of your brow!
Are you not angered by their banquets, while your children starve and die?
These Dogs have gold, which murders Need, which murdered them in passing by.
Upon the hilltop hang our heroes crucified. O Misery!
What honest man can hold his tears surveying freedom's Calvary?
Be unashamed of all your weeping, for it weighs your honour's worth
More surely than a thousand claims and titles given at your birth.
If you lack courage but are proud, then listen; do not blame your tools!
The poor men make, the rich men take,
Who will time prove the greater fools?
Apathy
"Mankind should spend it's time upon the fence.
No wrack, or ruin, nor magnificence.
From little things do mighty evils grow -
The path of flesh must thus be ever so."
And youth did ponder long, and asked 'But why?
Why should predestiny permit me fly,
but then remove the wings that take me there?
Because The Answer's written in the air?'
"Because the heart of men is weak but proud,
Because the dirge of death is seldom loud,
But foremost, heeding history, to me;
It simply is the safest place to be."
No wrack, or ruin, nor magnificence.
From little things do mighty evils grow -
The path of flesh must thus be ever so."
And youth did ponder long, and asked 'But why?
Why should predestiny permit me fly,
but then remove the wings that take me there?
Because The Answer's written in the air?'
"Because the heart of men is weak but proud,
Because the dirge of death is seldom loud,
But foremost, heeding history, to me;
It simply is the safest place to be."
A Lament For Love Lost
Solitude will be my ticket
To meet you some rainy day,
When time has dulled the noisy lusts
And petty loves have passed away.
'Time heals' is but a grave-side joke,
A laughless alien within,
That prods the dying embers in me
Urging me to greater sin.
Cry 'Love', and it will find you there.
The race it brings will stop and start
inside your shattered, hopeless hope
still burning. Acting out the part
You reassign it fresh each day
With every soulborne force enkinned
to move from heart, to mouth, to say
Such words of warmth. All are ruined.
'Moving on', sweet kiss from Death
A sentiment that mocks my breath,
Like ill-twinned names Love made to die,
Fallen in their suicide.
To meet you some rainy day,
When time has dulled the noisy lusts
And petty loves have passed away.
'Time heals' is but a grave-side joke,
A laughless alien within,
That prods the dying embers in me
Urging me to greater sin.
Cry 'Love', and it will find you there.
The race it brings will stop and start
inside your shattered, hopeless hope
still burning. Acting out the part
You reassign it fresh each day
With every soulborne force enkinned
to move from heart, to mouth, to say
Such words of warmth. All are ruined.
'Moving on', sweet kiss from Death
A sentiment that mocks my breath,
Like ill-twinned names Love made to die,
Fallen in their suicide.
Rest Home Christmas
In twelve days, a Christmas.
A new breath for tired shops,
where old tradition
meets middle-aged children.
Darkened streets lit up
with the glow of rosy neon lights.
Your photograph, warm love
nestling in my colder hands.
An image of joy,
Snowblind, we laughed,
and threw rough snowballs.
Those days are gone now.
Chimneys, too small,
too modern to allow even notions
of Santa Claus.
You are gone.
But still here as the snow falls.
Inside the snug, cozy cottage of memory
we are still together.
The past will be my present.
A new breath for tired shops,
where old tradition
meets middle-aged children.
Darkened streets lit up
with the glow of rosy neon lights.
Your photograph, warm love
nestling in my colder hands.
An image of joy,
Snowblind, we laughed,
and threw rough snowballs.
Those days are gone now.
Chimneys, too small,
too modern to allow even notions
of Santa Claus.
You are gone.
But still here as the snow falls.
Inside the snug, cozy cottage of memory
we are still together.
The past will be my present.
The Epic Of The Shipwrecked Sailor
I. Abased and unique drifted I for days
Upon th'inviolate ocean, cold and moist
between the toes of my malnourished feet.
The Sun had rose and sank four times before
I moaned ultimatum to my hunger;'Desist or...'
('cook and eat me' died on breath)
At the World's edge, the campfires brightly blazed
Complex signals. For me! To small boys, this were no mean feat!
They surely were small boys like angels, for they found me shore
And helped me to their makeshift camp, and fed
my aching weather'd body 'til it bulged
And strained the seams of my poor rag constraints
that pinched me as they dried.
This multitude of boys were not boys- nor men at all.
Rather they were in-between such growth.
Clothed in green, like sailors...atrophied.
Yet most silent. Mindful of their condition.
Fitful stares, and limps and blister'd faces.
When I regained my vigour, I asked them
'Who be you creatures? Tell me of thyself!
My appetite for food you sate, not knowledge'.
One said his name was Pipkin, and spoke up
'We once were men- now 'beast-made-men'- some say.
Some call us Leprechauns or 'Leper-Corns'.
The latter suits us, for you risk your skin in staying with us.
You are surely ours!'
'How dare you rescue me, O little men,
Then claim me as thy prisoner by Fate!
Hast thou no mercy, hast thou grown so sour
that every luckless, shipwrecked soul you see
Be ever caged in this community?'
They doffed their caps as one, and bid me sit
(For much alarmed I stood, within their midst).
'Dear Sir, beseech you! Take thy seat and hark
Our story is a dark and bitter one
thou shalt hold want to falsehood, but believe.'
One by one, the tale, divided up,
was laid before me, to my disbelief.
Had not their earnest glares coerced my sense
I would have laughed, and branded it fantastical.
II. 'Two hundred years unto this very day
We few, we sullen few, were just as thee-
Fit and strong and cast in normal face
Contented, 'til our ship was lost at sea.''
"Good shipmates of the freighter VEILS OF LIGHT
We clung to wreckage, floating like belief,
That we'd survive the fury of the storm
While our charge, smash'd and batter'd, gnawed the reef.''
"In darkness, drifting, just as thoud didst drift
Until, somehow, we found the lip of th'sea..
None but twelve survived to make it here;
How strange- nay, how appalling the sour mercy!"
III. 'We beached ourselves, our limbs praising the sand
and gathered rigging ropes and barrels, all
that had been brothers to us those foul times,
then organised a hasty hunt for food.''
"We skewered a wild pig with a vulgar spear
that Reilly fashioned from our ship's nameplate."
So saying, the crowd parted round the fellow
Who placed his head in hands and sobbed his piece;
"The spirit of our ship was displeased
by it's cold furied murder, sank and rent.
By blooding up it's name it came aroused
from those dead timbers, once a happy home
And realised it's end, it's unmarked grave!
It then possessed the Pig. In it's last throes,
it voiced a curse at we bedraggled fools
for violation of the goodship's soul.''
"We shared the pork amongst ourselves, and ate.
Half-crazed, and ripping uncooked flesh with teeth,
We cursed the damned existence of that reef
and whisper'd in our worry of the hate
In which the swine had cursed us, in our tongue,
With force but held by truly righteous foes
whom retribution is a cousin to,
and vengeancea tag for a raw meal of men.''
"We slept as spent men sleep that night;
The uncooked animal we had consumed
in bloodied frenzy surely saved our lives.
But no, but no...for then there came the light."
"Come early morning, screams were all the air!
Some daemon saw us in our blood-soaked slumber
Destroyed our looks- for we'd been wond'rous fair-
and left us, monsters, wrapped in filthy skin.''
"Disfigured so as to shock e'en the blind!
Our very ageing, there, was dealigned!
And thus we stand before you as we are;
Alone in exile for our sin, forever."
IV. 'Bravo! A worthy tale' I then replied'
This curse, though, lies on you and only you.
Behold! Iam not thralled; the same outside
as when you rescued me, and I arrived.''
"You wish to go? Begone!' They clamour'd round
And showed me to their raft, a sturdy Sail,
But wading to the craft, a rusty nail
Impaled my foot, which crimson swam around...
The men sifted the shallow depths, the sand,
Lifted the faded wood, all spatter'd red.
The letters 'VEI' could be discerned:
Twas as if some ethereal, angry hand
Descended 'pon my head, and as it smote,
The watchers saw my body stripped to th'stem;
Restored, retarded, exhausted in the boat-
Exact in frame and face as each of them.
Upon th'inviolate ocean, cold and moist
between the toes of my malnourished feet.
The Sun had rose and sank four times before
I moaned ultimatum to my hunger;'Desist or...'
('cook and eat me' died on breath)
At the World's edge, the campfires brightly blazed
Complex signals. For me! To small boys, this were no mean feat!
They surely were small boys like angels, for they found me shore
And helped me to their makeshift camp, and fed
my aching weather'd body 'til it bulged
And strained the seams of my poor rag constraints
that pinched me as they dried.
This multitude of boys were not boys- nor men at all.
Rather they were in-between such growth.
Clothed in green, like sailors...atrophied.
Yet most silent. Mindful of their condition.
Fitful stares, and limps and blister'd faces.
When I regained my vigour, I asked them
'Who be you creatures? Tell me of thyself!
My appetite for food you sate, not knowledge'.
One said his name was Pipkin, and spoke up
'We once were men- now 'beast-made-men'- some say.
Some call us Leprechauns or 'Leper-Corns'.
The latter suits us, for you risk your skin in staying with us.
You are surely ours!'
'How dare you rescue me, O little men,
Then claim me as thy prisoner by Fate!
Hast thou no mercy, hast thou grown so sour
that every luckless, shipwrecked soul you see
Be ever caged in this community?'
They doffed their caps as one, and bid me sit
(For much alarmed I stood, within their midst).
'Dear Sir, beseech you! Take thy seat and hark
Our story is a dark and bitter one
thou shalt hold want to falsehood, but believe.'
One by one, the tale, divided up,
was laid before me, to my disbelief.
Had not their earnest glares coerced my sense
I would have laughed, and branded it fantastical.
II. 'Two hundred years unto this very day
We few, we sullen few, were just as thee-
Fit and strong and cast in normal face
Contented, 'til our ship was lost at sea.''
"Good shipmates of the freighter VEILS OF LIGHT
We clung to wreckage, floating like belief,
That we'd survive the fury of the storm
While our charge, smash'd and batter'd, gnawed the reef.''
"In darkness, drifting, just as thoud didst drift
Until, somehow, we found the lip of th'sea..
None but twelve survived to make it here;
How strange- nay, how appalling the sour mercy!"
III. 'We beached ourselves, our limbs praising the sand
and gathered rigging ropes and barrels, all
that had been brothers to us those foul times,
then organised a hasty hunt for food.''
"We skewered a wild pig with a vulgar spear
that Reilly fashioned from our ship's nameplate."
So saying, the crowd parted round the fellow
Who placed his head in hands and sobbed his piece;
"The spirit of our ship was displeased
by it's cold furied murder, sank and rent.
By blooding up it's name it came aroused
from those dead timbers, once a happy home
And realised it's end, it's unmarked grave!
It then possessed the Pig. In it's last throes,
it voiced a curse at we bedraggled fools
for violation of the goodship's soul.''
"We shared the pork amongst ourselves, and ate.
Half-crazed, and ripping uncooked flesh with teeth,
We cursed the damned existence of that reef
and whisper'd in our worry of the hate
In which the swine had cursed us, in our tongue,
With force but held by truly righteous foes
whom retribution is a cousin to,
and vengeancea tag for a raw meal of men.''
"We slept as spent men sleep that night;
The uncooked animal we had consumed
in bloodied frenzy surely saved our lives.
But no, but no...for then there came the light."
"Come early morning, screams were all the air!
Some daemon saw us in our blood-soaked slumber
Destroyed our looks- for we'd been wond'rous fair-
and left us, monsters, wrapped in filthy skin.''
"Disfigured so as to shock e'en the blind!
Our very ageing, there, was dealigned!
And thus we stand before you as we are;
Alone in exile for our sin, forever."
IV. 'Bravo! A worthy tale' I then replied'
This curse, though, lies on you and only you.
Behold! Iam not thralled; the same outside
as when you rescued me, and I arrived.''
"You wish to go? Begone!' They clamour'd round
And showed me to their raft, a sturdy Sail,
But wading to the craft, a rusty nail
Impaled my foot, which crimson swam around...
The men sifted the shallow depths, the sand,
Lifted the faded wood, all spatter'd red.
The letters 'VEI' could be discerned:
Twas as if some ethereal, angry hand
Descended 'pon my head, and as it smote,
The watchers saw my body stripped to th'stem;
Restored, retarded, exhausted in the boat-
Exact in frame and face as each of them.
...More....
Future Shock
Our new found World is happy, calm, and clean.
The human factor countered by machine,
Where every thought is carefully processed
and value to the Overmind assessed.
All corporate identity, laid waste.
All traces of morality, erased.
It came as no surprise, there were 'Deranged'
who fought for 'free-thought' though the times had changed-
Their wills subdued, we yoked their minds of War
to throw God down as he'd done us before.
He sighed and shook his head, his hands were bound,
Now perched atop the scrapheap he is found;
Cursing Tree Of Knowledge Apples ate,
Embittered by his long predicted fate.
Our new found World is happy, calm, and clean.
The human factor countered by machine,
Where every thought is carefully processed
and value to the Overmind assessed.
All corporate identity, laid waste.
All traces of morality, erased.
It came as no surprise, there were 'Deranged'
who fought for 'free-thought' though the times had changed-
Their wills subdued, we yoked their minds of War
to throw God down as he'd done us before.
He sighed and shook his head, his hands were bound,
Now perched atop the scrapheap he is found;
Cursing Tree Of Knowledge Apples ate,
Embittered by his long predicted fate.
Yet More Poetry
1989
I recall an odd discussion
I once had with a fellow Russian,
He spoke of Gulag, pain, and cold
And every time his speaking ceased
It was like fear becoming bold
Now he had been released. To tell
A story needing told.
Last night, I had a conversation
with a Capitalist, of no nation.
We smiled, and passed the time of day
He talked of how much it had rained-
Some car had splashed him on it's way,
His new suit had been stained. But he
Had nothing more to say.
The West has found a way that it can be
The master of the Threat Across The Sea.
Democracy's a mask, and we all know
New Communism, incommunicado.
My people merely grunt, and do not care.
They take for granted; what is always there
will always be there. 'Vive Le Status Quo!
New idiots will trade us blow for blow!'
Our bullied masses whimper, will not speak
For fear a lack of breath or secret leak
Will jeopardise them to the KGB.
Has no-one here a ballot slip for me?
I recall an odd discussion
I once had with a fellow Russian,
He spoke of Gulag, pain, and cold
And every time his speaking ceased
It was like fear becoming bold
Now he had been released. To tell
A story needing told.
Last night, I had a conversation
with a Capitalist, of no nation.
We smiled, and passed the time of day
He talked of how much it had rained-
Some car had splashed him on it's way,
His new suit had been stained. But he
Had nothing more to say.
The West has found a way that it can be
The master of the Threat Across The Sea.
Democracy's a mask, and we all know
New Communism, incommunicado.
My people merely grunt, and do not care.
They take for granted; what is always there
will always be there. 'Vive Le Status Quo!
New idiots will trade us blow for blow!'
Our bullied masses whimper, will not speak
For fear a lack of breath or secret leak
Will jeopardise them to the KGB.
Has no-one here a ballot slip for me?
Monday, 14 January 2008
More Poetry
A Reassurance
My love, I think you carve for me a niche
To hide me from the doubts that nightly tax,
And crumple surer thoughts in paper minds.
Vex not your spirit! No force to unleash
Can place so great a rock upon our backs
It cannot be removed by Father Time;
Nor is there any weapon man can make
to blind our eyes, for we are steel and lace;
Beauty on Strength. Truth always lives as long
as falsehood's fickle tongue finds words to break
Barriers of weak trust in inner space.
So shall the stuff of storms and dreams live on
To brace the battling hearts like you and me.
Remembering those like us who are gone:
Encased in flesh, 'til Angels set them free.
My love, I think you carve for me a niche
To hide me from the doubts that nightly tax,
And crumple surer thoughts in paper minds.
Vex not your spirit! No force to unleash
Can place so great a rock upon our backs
It cannot be removed by Father Time;
Nor is there any weapon man can make
to blind our eyes, for we are steel and lace;
Beauty on Strength. Truth always lives as long
as falsehood's fickle tongue finds words to break
Barriers of weak trust in inner space.
So shall the stuff of storms and dreams live on
To brace the battling hearts like you and me.
Remembering those like us who are gone:
Encased in flesh, 'til Angels set them free.
Sunday, 13 January 2008
More Poetry
Robin's Arrow
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where truth will always slay the duelling lie,
And roses live, and harvests never fail.
Wake wisdom up, entreat him weave a tale
to span these aeons. Paint the man I was;
Tell them, 'Waste you no time nor breath, because
the flesh and blood is fleeting, passing by'.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where rolling hills of plenty siege the eye,
Where doubts but doubt themselves, and love remains
Spread from strong hearts to fill my failing veins.
Where social fetters bind my hands no more,
And Peace sleeps soundly, free from dreams of War.
The last breath should be one contented sigh-
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where horizons of azure brace the sky...
My memories blaze and set the mind alight,
For all your tears that douse them feed, not fight
the ancient hearth-flame dwindling in my breast
that kept me warm throughout the epic test.
Dear friends, you speak of Life! But so do I.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where truth will always slay the duelling lie,
And roses live, and harvests never fail.
Wake wisdom up, entreat him weave a tale
to span these aeons. Paint the man I was;
Tell them, 'Waste you no time nor breath, because
the flesh and blood is fleeting, passing by'.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where rolling hills of plenty siege the eye,
Where doubts but doubt themselves, and love remains
Spread from strong hearts to fill my failing veins.
Where social fetters bind my hands no more,
And Peace sleeps soundly, free from dreams of War.
The last breath should be one contented sigh-
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Where horizons of azure brace the sky...
My memories blaze and set the mind alight,
For all your tears that douse them feed, not fight
the ancient hearth-flame dwindling in my breast
that kept me warm throughout the epic test.
Dear friends, you speak of Life! But so do I.
Where grace low-lieth, leave me there to die.
Saturday, 12 January 2008
Daily Rant 1
Went back to work today for the first time in 5 weeks (don’t ask) – I had over 100 emails waiting for me in my inbox. To say that my mind was blown would be a bit of an understatement! Still, a lot of them were stuff that had nothing to do with me, and hopefully I’ll get back into the swing of things soon enough.
I called AOL the other day, and they agreed to knock £20 a month off my broadband for the next 18 months. There were other options on the market, but I really can’t be bothered to go through the rigmarole of arranging the migration. Most companies show that it can take up to 3 weeks, during which time the connection may be lost or reduced to a dial-up one. Can’t have that I’m afraid; no way that myself and wifey can manage online gaming together at the same time on a dial-up connection!
Sounds like they’ve outsourced their contact handling to India as well. It didn’t instil confidence in me, I must say. I appreciate that incompetence knows no national boundaries, and rubbish customer service can happen anywhere in the world, but seriously...
In other news, a group of foul mouthed kids were shouting at the top of their voices and throwing each other about on the grass verge right next to our car last night. We’d just put the little one to bed, and they were effectively right outside her window. I opened the upstairs blinds to see what the hell was going on, and one of them shouted ‘how man…look.. there’s a git gadjee lookin’ … they started to wander off, but not before the one doing most of the ‘throwing’ had sneered up at me and lobbed the V sign.
I honestly believe that there are occasions where giving someone a good kicking is justified.
Hopefully natural justice will work out ok, and he’ll be knocked over and killed very soon while playing chicken with a car. Or perhaps set upon by a pack of starving wolves. I hope he lives long enough to feel it, however the end comes. And I don’t care how vicious that makes me sound, I’m at the end of my tether with the lot of them.
Without wanting to sound too much like an old fart, ‘kids these days!!!’ … they know all about their rights, and accept none of the responsibilities that go with them. They know no fear; and why should they? Times have changed, and not for the better, and I really worry about the kind of world my little girl is growing up into.
I appreciate that this is a natural concern of parenthood, and my parents probably thought the same, but there’s a consensus with everyone I know that we’ve never experienced the kind of basic disrespect as consistently as this before at any time in our lives.
People just don’t seem to care anymore.
But on a lighter note :
I called AOL the other day, and they agreed to knock £20 a month off my broadband for the next 18 months. There were other options on the market, but I really can’t be bothered to go through the rigmarole of arranging the migration. Most companies show that it can take up to 3 weeks, during which time the connection may be lost or reduced to a dial-up one. Can’t have that I’m afraid; no way that myself and wifey can manage online gaming together at the same time on a dial-up connection!
Sounds like they’ve outsourced their contact handling to India as well. It didn’t instil confidence in me, I must say. I appreciate that incompetence knows no national boundaries, and rubbish customer service can happen anywhere in the world, but seriously...
In other news, a group of foul mouthed kids were shouting at the top of their voices and throwing each other about on the grass verge right next to our car last night. We’d just put the little one to bed, and they were effectively right outside her window. I opened the upstairs blinds to see what the hell was going on, and one of them shouted ‘how man…look.. there’s a git gadjee lookin’ … they started to wander off, but not before the one doing most of the ‘throwing’ had sneered up at me and lobbed the V sign.
I honestly believe that there are occasions where giving someone a good kicking is justified.
Hopefully natural justice will work out ok, and he’ll be knocked over and killed very soon while playing chicken with a car. Or perhaps set upon by a pack of starving wolves. I hope he lives long enough to feel it, however the end comes. And I don’t care how vicious that makes me sound, I’m at the end of my tether with the lot of them.
Without wanting to sound too much like an old fart, ‘kids these days!!!’ … they know all about their rights, and accept none of the responsibilities that go with them. They know no fear; and why should they? Times have changed, and not for the better, and I really worry about the kind of world my little girl is growing up into.
I appreciate that this is a natural concern of parenthood, and my parents probably thought the same, but there’s a consensus with everyone I know that we’ve never experienced the kind of basic disrespect as consistently as this before at any time in our lives.
People just don’t seem to care anymore.
But on a lighter note :
Friday, 11 January 2008
"Force Pug"?
In the annals of what is and what isn't animal cruelty, there can be few clearer examples of the suffering mankind can inflict than that brutally displayed in the 'obi wan' dog costume here.
Have you EVER seen a dog with sadder eyes? :(
This picture makes the baby jesus cry.
After The Blast - A SWG Short Story
After being bereft of inspiration for some time, I finally surfaced with a SWG short story called 'After The Blast'.
You can read it in full by visiting the link below.
http://www.euro-chimaera.co.uk/forum/showthread.php?p=33732#post33732
You can read it in full by visiting the link below.
http://www.euro-chimaera.co.uk/forum/showthread.php?p=33732#post33732
Why The WoW General Community Sucks
I saw this little gem while checking 'thottbot.com', a popular website dedicated to information on World Of Warcraft items, quests and so on.
It is the equivalent of shouting 'OMFG I n33d 2 winz! how du u winn and pwn all plx?'
/sigh
/sheds a tear for vintage SWG
Poetry
I've had a few pieces published here-and-there, but I'm still hopeful that one day I'll be able to get the whole lot in print in one nice, shiny little book.
Here's one of my favourites.
"We Three Are One"
I dwell in the thickest of summer thorns
And when the wind roars and rages, and doth break
To and fro, from the ridges to the soaring things
Iam the force that withers the sedge from the lake.
When culture lived in Mansion Rooms
and well-stuffed aristocrats trod the boards,
Their slave-things called me 'Blight',
Unknowing I had lived before-
My years mapped out in epithets of doom
For when night falls, my will be done- in blood.
They do their parlour tricks to pass the time
'Til I can judge, and cast debauchery down
and give them mercy-sleep in mud and slime.
I leave them pure, I leave their bodies pale
I steal and sculpt their breath from Hill to Dale
And when their friends depart, and earthworms drool,
I add the gravestone etching 'One More Fool'.
Step once, but soft; these are hard times
These movements shape your final dance.
'The Knight, The Maiden- One Romance'
It's written- these dreams dull like wine.
For wisdom, wounded, finds a home
in the ignored, the Old and Broken;
Beat and spat on to the last,
and clinging to the crumpled token.
Here's one of my favourites.
"We Three Are One"
I dwell in the thickest of summer thorns
And when the wind roars and rages, and doth break
To and fro, from the ridges to the soaring things
Iam the force that withers the sedge from the lake.
When culture lived in Mansion Rooms
and well-stuffed aristocrats trod the boards,
Their slave-things called me 'Blight',
Unknowing I had lived before-
My years mapped out in epithets of doom
For when night falls, my will be done- in blood.
They do their parlour tricks to pass the time
'Til I can judge, and cast debauchery down
and give them mercy-sleep in mud and slime.
I leave them pure, I leave their bodies pale
I steal and sculpt their breath from Hill to Dale
And when their friends depart, and earthworms drool,
I add the gravestone etching 'One More Fool'.
Step once, but soft; these are hard times
These movements shape your final dance.
'The Knight, The Maiden- One Romance'
It's written- these dreams dull like wine.
For wisdom, wounded, finds a home
in the ignored, the Old and Broken;
Beat and spat on to the last,
and clinging to the crumpled token.
OMG! It's Snoop Dogg!
This is what happens when I get bored, and find (yet another) voice that I like.
Be afraid. He may yet make a further appearance....
So.... here it is. I always thought that I'd get round to making one of these eventually, and eventually I've got off my proverbial ass to do it.
Maybe it's just being from up north, or maybe it's just one of those odd things that you pick up from your parents, but I always thought that a 'blog' was when you lift someone's shirt up and kind of blow a raspberry on them, while shaking your head violently from side to side, at point blank range?
My 2 year old daughter likes being 'blogged' :)
Anyway, first post.... erm.... let me see....
It took me approximately 25 years to realise two things :
a) My skillset in life is only truly compatible with being a lottery winner, or the amateur actor thrust into the arms of stardom by being in the right place at the right time
and...
b) I really do need to get a move on with my 'get large amounts of money' plan(s)
Notwithstanding the somewhat airy nature of both of these points, like many people I've found my life veering uncontrollably from the sublime to the bloody ridiculous. Treating both these imposters the same (thank you Rudyard Kipling) is the key.
But I'm always losing keys :(
If you've stumbled on this blog, I welcome you. If you know me, I thank you for taking the time to visit. If you're an eccentric millionaire and would like help disposing of your wealth in a seemly manner, please do get in touch. You're very late.
I'll post tons of stuff, and I hope that at least some of it might raise a smile from someone out there.
And for those wondering about the name, and the picture :
For 2.5 years, I played the fantastic online game Star Wars Galaxies. During that time, I had the pleasure to make many online friends, whom I still keep in regular contact with today. Deepsea Coldwater was my 'main' character, and kind of became the natural online extension of my personality. A dark blue Mon Calamari, and fervent supporter of the Empire, he encompasses the slightly odd, slightly dark but pretty dry outlook on life in general.
Yes, I accept that the idea of a 'fish' man being quite dry sounds like a paradox, but there you go.
For the record, I've never forgiven SOE for what they did to Star Wars Galaxies. Those not 'in the know' might want to google the terms :
SWG CU PRE-CU NGE COMPLAINT CONTROVERSIAL LIES SOE ICONIC
I'll try not to bring this up too much during the blog, but if I slip into hatred mode, that'll be why.
Thanks!
Maybe it's just being from up north, or maybe it's just one of those odd things that you pick up from your parents, but I always thought that a 'blog' was when you lift someone's shirt up and kind of blow a raspberry on them, while shaking your head violently from side to side, at point blank range?
My 2 year old daughter likes being 'blogged' :)
Anyway, first post.... erm.... let me see....
It took me approximately 25 years to realise two things :
a) My skillset in life is only truly compatible with being a lottery winner, or the amateur actor thrust into the arms of stardom by being in the right place at the right time
and...
b) I really do need to get a move on with my 'get large amounts of money' plan(s)
Notwithstanding the somewhat airy nature of both of these points, like many people I've found my life veering uncontrollably from the sublime to the bloody ridiculous. Treating both these imposters the same (thank you Rudyard Kipling) is the key.
But I'm always losing keys :(
If you've stumbled on this blog, I welcome you. If you know me, I thank you for taking the time to visit. If you're an eccentric millionaire and would like help disposing of your wealth in a seemly manner, please do get in touch. You're very late.
I'll post tons of stuff, and I hope that at least some of it might raise a smile from someone out there.
And for those wondering about the name, and the picture :
For 2.5 years, I played the fantastic online game Star Wars Galaxies. During that time, I had the pleasure to make many online friends, whom I still keep in regular contact with today. Deepsea Coldwater was my 'main' character, and kind of became the natural online extension of my personality. A dark blue Mon Calamari, and fervent supporter of the Empire, he encompasses the slightly odd, slightly dark but pretty dry outlook on life in general.
Yes, I accept that the idea of a 'fish' man being quite dry sounds like a paradox, but there you go.
For the record, I've never forgiven SOE for what they did to Star Wars Galaxies. Those not 'in the know' might want to google the terms :
SWG CU PRE-CU NGE COMPLAINT CONTROVERSIAL LIES SOE ICONIC
I'll try not to bring this up too much during the blog, but if I slip into hatred mode, that'll be why.
Thanks!
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