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[16 Feb 2007|01:29pm]

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[01 Jun 2006|11:33am]
If series 2 is ANYTHING like series 1 it should be burned.
How can someone with your intelligence seriously like this version

of Doctor who?
I endured a few episodes. I am well aware it is absolute bilge. I

watched it with my mother - she likes things like Strictly Come

Dancing, I believe she says it's just for the dancing although I'm

sure she's perfectly ok with everything else that makes me want to

smash people's shiny teeth in. Just because of the things she has

watched. Irritating bilge for the masses.
I'd had about enough when they brought the gameshow in space

episode out. Pretty cool idea, but rapidly went crap. In fact, this is

one of the reasons this particular show confuses me. SOmetimes

you have original moments. Sometimes, like some victorian ghost

story thing, it's very dissappointing, and turns into a badly carried

out cliche scene - satisfying unhappy ghosts. They then show their

true colours as evil, but I'm only slightly interested because

everything stinks of shit generally, and I'm certain that same twist

has been done before. And of course the earth is saved. Oh no,

the past, sorry. Because that's more original.
I believe the next episode was of aliens invading. I thought this

might turn out well, the obviously unoriginal concept could turn

out in so many ways, it could be done well. But it did turn out

blindingly unoriginal, and did not sweep you up in it, didn't make

you believe it. The Prime minister and co, for example, just seemed

like a small number of guys in suits for the day. Aliens? Invading?

Get out of my office at once. Silliness. The secretary pisses me off

too. She's obviously there so middle-of-the-road middle-aged

women feel like they can be the heroine, in some way, their lives

can have a point. The secretary of the prime minister is not going

to be all trusting and kind and go out of her way for some nuts.
Everybody waking up in a trance and stumbling towards london

bridge to throw themselves off - in a manner complete alike to an

early zombie film but it doesn't matter, it's a good idea. Though I

have no empathy with thousands of average citizens doing

themselves in, it is exciting and moving. Well, it could have been.

And now to what is possibly my first and biggest irk. That Rose girl.

She fucked up that scene, it could have been moving, she made it

throwaway, just being there, being herself.
Are you from england, sir? If not I can excuse you this one, though

her retchiness should emanate across the Atlantic in my book. She

is the (nice, normal, version however. Not a ghetto gehwll

wannabe in some council flat, bacardi breezer petrol bomb ready

to throw at the local corner shop) typical girl of our fair land. Not

quite a chav, but only because she's had relatively little thrown at

her and she's had idiot friends to bond with and make her feel

special and certain she's got a personality worth a... fuck.
These creatures have all the passion of someone certain that being

an air hostess or redcoat is their loftiest seat in life. Butlins should

have a night dedicated to it, the kids will scream yaay, when they

should be screaming urrrhurhuhurhuhurrrrrr behind the sofa. The

'best' become pop singers, or, I dunno, Big Brother contestants.

Glad I haven't been reminded of that show by Doctor Who - oh

shit. Yes, I forgot to add that in the space gameshow bit. Fucking

hell, that was like my worst nightmare, running through rooms

which are all my worst media enterprises, but more neon! But to

everyone else, at the end of the day, it's fun. It's just a bit of fun. It's

a light entertainment memory lane, you got have some fun, dont

ya, innit?
Straight onto another episode. Alien cult with skull faces gets

routed by the Doctor in pj's. I read how much effort had gone into

making those aliens look menacing. Why? Why bother? Why not

go the whole hog and make it into a spoof?
You see I had high hopes for Doctor Who. What people said about

it, I ignored their grins at the bad special effects, and looked at the

snatched clips of it, with that amazing music, thinking, wow, this

must have been incredible. It must have taken you galaxies away

from this world jam-packed full of nobodies and their helpful

additions. I managed to grab the end of one episode - a green

blob was circling menacingly. A green fucking blob! But it scared

the shit out of me! Yes I was about 11, and I'm significantly more

desensitised now, thankyou One World Culture, but it's the point

that with so little to work with, they managed to create this

twisted atmosphere. You receive the conviction that if you

somehow managed to end up on a planet with some form of life,

it would be so ...strange you'd feel fear like our true lack of

illumination, sitting on a tiny speck, in a freezing nothingness that is

incomprehensibly vast.
I saw, what, five minutes? And some other scuttling around a

Dalek spaceship? That has continued to intrigue me, but Rose etc

will continue to make me wish the world really would end. It pisses

all over whatever its legacy was.
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Unsent to W_S, fear of risked anonymity [30 May 2006|08:59pm]
I fantasise about finding you, realising it's you, and telling you that I know you're wandering scribe, and I'm not a bad person, would like to be a friend.
I'm a student, and feel quite artistic, always writing notes and stuff. I've also spent a good deal of time on my own, wandering around in my own thoughts, if I have spare time trying to find natural places in the city, or whatever will spark my interest. It's still incredibly hard to express myself, I'm sounding like I have no worries and I just wander freely with my head in the clouds, it's very rarely like that. I'd hate me if I was you reading this.
Do you realise, I've only read a few entries but you're sounding more and more like a poet or something. Do you think you're turning into one.
I'm kind of thinking, that if you take the experience alone, your experience of sitting on the bench at the top of the hill in london, and my experience of sitting on the bench at the top of another hill, they have no difference. And I felt free, and good to be alive.
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truthfiction [22 Apr 2006|09:38pm]
I bumped into ashley on the way out of the bathroom. Wow, I'm writing about the bathroom again, bathrooms must be a nexus for me or something. The atmosphere, the being alone, or the bog-hog meditation.
Ashley: "You ok? I thought I heard you yelling something - all?"
Me: "Yes, I was watching myself tell myself how much work and job searching I had done."
Ashley: "All?"
Me: "Oh, add an 'f' word to the beginning."
Ashley: "Ah."
Me: "yeah. Can't say naughty words. Mouth is unclean enough as it is, have not cleaned teeth in a while. A plague might jump up outta there or something."
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[22 Apr 2006|12:20pm]

"Entrants are invited to submit the most unlikely, yet still plausible, terrorist attack scenarios they can come up with.

Your goal: cause terror. Make the American people notice. Inflict lasting damage on the U.S. economy. Change the political landscape, or the culture. The more grandiose the goal, the better."
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Old recovered thought processes [18 Mar 2006|09:23pm]
Male rewarded for simply being me, doing things that I enjoy, engaging in those things and only really absent-mindedly engaging, if at all, with those things I don't - this is the way life should be

All of us fighting the tiredness and the misery of our existence every day in order to live and communicate acceptably and within acceptable min-max limits

Reminders-many flavoured cocktail sick freak ashamed to be me hostages Hazlemere church house foetus fly rape quiz bouncy twig(s) kill nature
(can womankind live purely artificially?would they have to alter themselves)sssswww

Can I process pleasure and pain
without sentience? (animal ethics?)

legs waist seperated, hold up torsoless, like in dream, make things work nonetheless

Belief changes with situation. I am not damned for eternity because I am safe, in a comfortable situation..?(All is lies and pretentiousness and plastic taste in back of throat)

Band playing, image multiplies and the music and their movements converge into an abstract energy, large unstable being moving unnaturally in all directions at once while retaining one stable, changing idea. It eventually becomes more and more reminiscent of a human until it is shakily unmistakeable, and when a knife is ripped across the throat the music immediately changes and fades.

(Male-transvestite-pre-op-post-op transsexual-woman lacking feminity-feminine woman-ULTRA FEMININE FEMALE->She has a vagina that stretches down the thighs as if to overtake their length, and halfway or more up the stomach. As if you had a penis, that you enlarged about five times, stretched out into a broad circular flesh volcano, with flaccid spout, and I want to go mwah. I believe it would taste somewhat acidic, however?

(irrelevant justification)Like a very religious person uses their mind to decide what should be in their heart, or vice versa, mind decides what is in penis

YOU SAID you said what you wanted. How do you think I feel about that.

Council flat attempt at luxurious garden, poke fun at themselves using burnt out oven and scrap heap model bird

sleek dark apollonian hard glint eyes piercing through nose offset by pink flower in dark hair

The muslim women hiding everything in obscuring black cloth

I stared outta window, couldn't take in interesting words, many things interesting they're just beyond me, so I watch the birds fly, most people can appreciate that, or the anti-beauty \M/. Then read pidge's blue book bit. Related to mostly all of it, no matter what she might say in response, and I'm so glad she showed just how open her mind can get, again, by showing her optimism at the end.Your hope, your hope, I feel its steady hand, etc. Oh...and then ran straight after that to catch my brake bus, which links the hospitals and plays the radio, something similar to capital. All the drivers seem to have the same taste in music, or pretend to. Anyway, point is, I'd just read that entry, and fucking George Michael starts singing into my tender grey matter, Faster love. I didn't, but should have, repeated I love pidge like a mantra to try and drown him out, it was so graphically like she'd just been putting so beautifully. Felt like I was a throat and the world was an unidentified rotten thing from a wastebin sliding down it.And then Natalie Umbruglia whatever's new single played!! Well it's all the fucking same really isn't it. But they do all have different insidious agendas. Natalie speaks like a parent to a six year old, providing only enough information to convey the chosen effect. I am going to follow her home in my batman costume, dispose of bodyguards with a BatBomb and then take her back to the Batcave, recently refurbished to my own tastes, of course. Here, no-body would be able to hear her screams, and after the media's already forgotten about her disappearance I'll let her out, with her mind turned inside out. Beautiful. I love being in a good mood.

save money on car= cool. Make money make money money. Do you really have to look at the people chattering behind you to know what they look like? No.

This must all be recorded. Don't ask why, just state:record, repeat, state, repeat,state, repeat

Here in amer I have found silence,loneliness and true mundanity, and that in itself has shown itself to be a very necessary step for shaping me, not spectacularly but subtley
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[13 Mar 2006|06:39pm]
Games are a kind of art, aswell as porn. Look at a picture of an island in a school textbook. It probably won't be presented very interestingly, 'education' is the focus. But an island created by graphics... there is just something about the way, say a strategy game's, 'place', looks like that fills, me anyway, with excitement. You know what you can expect - acessibility of exploraing a world removed from reality, doing things yourself, changing things and creating things, acessibly - or can't expect. It doesn't look like reality, it has a spin towards messy destruction or unnerving morbidity or exotic strangeness and it's framed and it's there for you to plunder with your mind. Or your brain, rather, in the case of a computer game.
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[12 Mar 2006|11:49am]

I don't know this band, but I'm retty fucked off with them - Call yourself Dionysus and then state in your history that he's the greek god of wine???
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[12 Mar 2006|11:40am]
Every street in Leicester

AT the end of our second item on streets with no name, we suggested that we had now received enough examples of this theme (11 February). But Ken Knowles writes to tell us that "at the other end of the naming scale" there is a street in Leicester, UK, called Every Street. He adds: "There was a time when any local schoolboy would be delighted to tell you that he had 'walked down Every Street in Leicester'."

We felt sure this would be unique - but not so. It turns out there is an Every Street in each of Nelson, Burnley and Bury in Lancashire and Todmordon close by in West Yorkshire, as well as one in Manchester and one in Liverpool. What might explain this quirk in northern English municipal nomenclature is beyond us.

The train to Ramsgate and Ramsgate

FINALLY, passengers on their way by train from London to the Kent coast last week were disconcerted when the scrolling display at the end of their carriage told them: "This is the South Eastern Trains service to Ramsgate and Ramsgate. This train will divide at Ashford International. The front four coaches will continue to Ramsgate. The rear four coaches will continue to Ramsgate. Please ensure that you are travelling in the correct portion of the train."

Mike Wicking, who was one of the startled passengers, wonders if there is some kind of beam-splitter at Ashford International- like the half-silvered mirror in the Michelson-Morley experiment. He is particularly worried about what will happen if the two parts of the train arrive at Ramsgate out of phase.
From issue 2540 of New Scientist magazine, 25 February 2006, page 88
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[05 Mar 2006|11:59pm]

Given Iran’s incessant foreign policy saber-rattling—including its continued development of nuclear weapons, support for Islamist terrorist groups, and facilitation of the terrorism in Iraq—it’s easy to lose sight of the horrifying domestic situation within the Islamic Republic. The mullahs have not only destroyed the lives of countless foreigners through their worldwide export of Islamic terror and extremism; they’ve also plunged the Iranian people into a violent, hellish abyss of torture, repression, hopelessness, drug addiction and despair.
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[05 Mar 2006|09:24pm]
photoshop the checkered floor of the uni takeaway, marble counter reflecting checkers, black reflection in door reflecting checkered door, ghostly car drives through this sloping floor.

Has this been done before - body, sliced open down the middle, carcass tones, showing stage by stage or in animation how everything moves about as a baby grows?
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Shadowman thoughts [28 Feb 2006|07:23pm]
The developer must have thought, shit, right,

better make it flow, make it entertaining,

chuck this in here , that there.
What gives it its greatness is the atmosphere,

feeling, even when you're trudging round the

most miserable blank corridors you feel

involved, your mind is working its way around

the experiences, heart gripped and pulled

downards, perhaps swirling like a flavour round

your tongue, what is implied but never totally

handed to you.

Construction beyond any engineer's

imagination - hundreds of cages bricks in the

towering walls. Vast grey space inbetween,

devoid of feature.
Twisting basements with screeching and

booming of machinery mostly unseen, and

workers whereabouts are unknown.
Inside these factories of strange purpose, are
lakes and underground rivers, of unknown

unpleasantness. Reds of rust and blood,

sometimes the necrotic metal streaks of

orange and green.
Always another corridor, here and there of

questionable logic. Or a functional room,

function unknown, and varying misery and

malevolence. Dead ends and tricks played by

a god of physical materials, toying with our

mortal frail flesh. The confusing, sometimes

impractical, always wearying maze you're

deep inside was not built with love or care of

its denizens and visitors in mind.

Along his shared half-unconscious pathways of

dust and scorched earth are origins in primitive

motivations, in primitive surroundings, he

acesses each new level through a demonic

portal. Poetry is recited about how Michael

feels about the place, then connects, and

relates to it. The 'bosses' make questionably

sane grand statements, throw bible quotes at

you, taunt you with the memory of your little

brother, here in this tortured land of the dead.

But it can't be the only one, it isn't at all, or it's

hell, or it's almost nothing, an abode of

society's fears and shames, or is it

overwhelming inevitability?
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Maths lesson thoughts 3x divided by 3 [24 Feb 2006|08:49pm]
I have an urge to shriek through my throat and frown at people, stabbing the table with my pen, 'urhhH', uHHR!'.

Beauty = x + 3 = 15
x + 3 - 3 = 15 - 3
x = 12

'If the temperature goes up 3 degrees, then goes down 3 degrees, we're exactly back where we started'. There's something beautiful and exciting about this. In the context perhaps.

1 + y - 1 = 7 - 1 =
I get it so far but no guarantee any further!

If you were astray in a black void, where the fucking hell would you come up with this shit? If given 8 = x + 3 who in fuck would come up with 8 - 3 = x + 3 - 3?

This is like an intestinal orgasm in your mind
I just
There is no point! There is no (intrinsic?)reason to come up with this. Or he hasn't told us - What's the REASON?

Jamie (fellow student, in creative writing and into death metal and black metal. And cradle of filth sometimes) - "I just don't get all the +ing and -ing". I leaned over and peered at the teacher he had summoned, the equations, then him, finding everything beautiful. "I'm used to just being able to minus and there's a +b there(or something, he said something like that)".
I told him and Jonesey after the teacher had gone away that " it's beautiful...I, I love it."
Snorting laughter and Jonesey saying in a sing song way 'hello daniel'.

"If it is a false equation (concentric implausibility?) can it be discarded?", I asked, getting carried away with the allure of big words. Wow, I caused a maths teacher to smile, I thought later.
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[17 Feb 2006|05:47pm]
I am pissed off because I am supposed to hand in this creative writing assignment today and it is now ten to 6. It is supposed to be set in a pretty shitty place, mexico or kazakhstan or somewhere, and I've got enough dilapidated imagery and I'm not able to bring it out, etc etc. I might actually start putting down some of my notes etc in here some time.
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[05 Feb 2006|12:47pm]
Stolen from dashing Not particularly work-safe.

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[05 Feb 2006|12:18pm]
I'm going to do maths in my spare time, just explore basic concepts or as far as I can go. Perhaps in the morning too. Because when I sit there pissed off in the morning, smelling like shit in the office-like classrooom surrounded by the public who got there on time, it can put you in a trance. You can explore different ways to ascend and descend, travel from the question to the answer, a naive tense undisciplined mind like mine goes off to a few other places. I drew the British high grass in biro, all the more vivid for the crudity that suggests subtly to remember lest the memory be simplified and crushed. Biro, tv, most conversations, mainstream, whatever.

What number goes into both 6 and 4?...before you find this in the stubborn 4 times table you fleetingly think also of the delicacies of the 6... and are hit by dusty roads in a relaxing, vaguely sleepy sun... but only through numbers. The numbers bring it to your attention but it is still in the prostrate gland or warm chest centre - of your brain...back there...known but unknown, felt but not touched, smiling happy lala la la lala la la la la shivery la yum, la la laaaa lalala la la la an inanimate object an inanimate object an inanimate object an inanimate object
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[27 Jan 2006|06:08pm]
I want to eat these images: http://bruegel.livejournal.com/32268.html?view=228364#t228364

(I think that's credit enough, posting the link right to his post?)
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[27 Jan 2006|04:23pm]

I am highly, highly offended by this. Anyone who likes Sean Paul SHOULD get pregnant at 15 and have a shitty life.
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My First creative writing class [19 Jan 2006|03:52pm]
There was quite a lot of people. I did the fake socialising thing with a girl that might not be fake and she seemed Nice. I keep an open mind on these things, it is of such little consequence, this putting value on niceness thing. We had to write down a short summary or image from a dream we had had (the chill in my chest went away when I realised it didn't have to be your latest dream, cos then I'd simply have to put that). I put what is most likely the first dream I can remember. You then fold it up and it gets randomised around the class. Then each must unwrap and write what comes into their head.
I received this: I shopping but wenl I walked I was in bed

I pondered some irrelevant things (the point, mostly, that seems to be forever irrelevant to me) and thought about crying, but then pulled myself together, cos I wanna be in the SAS. Took a while though. Then wrote this -

I came down to the town through rough golden fields but sloping down inside its oppressiveness my mood was entirely changed. I had not considered its air of newly stamped reality and though I tried my eyes climbed only further into a tangle of feelings and ideas not my own. It had ugly beauty in mish mashed old and uncared for features of buildings, leaking window panes, pipes almost fulfilling their purpose, big black slabs of grimy nothing. And the disturbing experience of bright artificial images, imparting their varied ideas of human life to me, aggressively cheerful. Other mirror images of myself clutched more unnatural purposes, energetic and smiling.

I like to think an uncomfortable or bitter silence followed my reading of it, you know how time plays games with us anyhoo.
I think it's ok for being right off the top of my head anyway. People have to know which side I am on :)
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[17 Jan 2006|08:51am]
I am being woken up to early really but probably the better for cutting off the excess hours from previous days, and I was thinking lots of things. I was thinking lots of things in the night as usual but they were mainly like 'weh weh weh' and I had to tell my brain to shut up and be harmonic and enlightening and gracefully plunging the deeps of unconscious grandeur but all it wanted to do was... probably sing 'Let it be' fucking AGAIn (go listen to something jolly to get this out of your head now its in there, go on it won't do you any harm once in a while, or Sex Pistols. How nihilistic they are, I'm sure most people only familiar with them in the usual way don't realise) and talking about mashed potatoes complete with images, like very dry chicken ribs being forced apart, sort of like that in texture, reminiscent of when I ate mushrooms oh I don't like hallucinogens oh they're not for me. Childrens tv show songs and childrens rhymes keep coming to me, sing, sing! they say.
I can't remember what the lecturer said hallucinogens were. Some sort of word for mind affecting drugs but I'm sure it was more interesting that, more worth adding to the paragrpahs and the sentences
My dick is sticking out of my pants again like that guy in 'Deep throat' (oh yes I can't do italics and EVEN IF I COULD) and I'd stick it in, and really like their back too so I'd take the shirt off, and but then I'd hit them and it'd be kinda like dwarf domination but that'd be besides the point to me at the time, I wouldn't care.
I was going to say something really clever but then I forgot what it was but now I've remembered it. But it's not that clever how dissappointing? No, not clever, worth something. Yesterday was good for my head, another night that I could have had a never ending depressing amer-week considering. But yesterday was like that too. Well it's just making it more obvious I can't be acting like I have, that was only the precursor and I got ta build on things, like.
We watched a strange film called Bad Boy Bobby and I recommend it to everyone, animal and sanity lovers have to sort of put up with the beginning bit and then everything is awesome from then on, soooo funny. lol
Then (probably stupidly) I mentioned desiring to flaunt my ginger pubes - and walk around wearing almost just a dog-collar. This set off our housemate into priest-impersonation ideas and he had to go and get his megaphone. You only get one pair of inner ears and I am often worrying for the fate of mine, I'm sure pain inside is not very good and I don't want any part of my existence to be rubbed off before I am rubbed off see. We filmed him scaring the residents with this and then he calmed down and we sat in the living room asking him about Robinson's Mars trilogy, street-preacher battles and I think how to survive the apocalypse, probably (Lovelock's new theories are going down well with me. Die well all).
Yeah so then we were wanting to go to the city and be street-preaching young New Priests or something but I think maybe people are bored of that idea or they are as cowardly as my own self though I bring it up again. We are going to make a big film of amazement, everyone who has an opinion to rant on camera and suchlike, perhaps go to the forest at the night with a flaming torch and incite revolution? Anyway stir up things, and patronise the little people, and try and find out what everyone is passionate about. We'll even ask some trendy bitches what they think about... the abortion debate, or something. We were going to plan the priest thing with kinda scripts and everything but now we'll do this and it'll be great.
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