Yearly Archives: 2004

Free online piss taking

Spam muthercanuckers. I don’t play poker in reality, so unsuprisingly I don’t induldge in my online travels. 73 comments. Thank the lord, or more properly, Jay Allen for the Blacklist. Sigh.
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we can make sandwiches

My brain informed me last night that Owen would like me to make him sandwiches. One cheese sandwich. One rice sandwich. I told him having a rice sandwich was quite odd and stupid- “It will be all soggy. It won’t taste of anything anyway.” I was the one who ate frozen fish fingers I was told with a wry grin. So I made Owen one cheese, one rice. He stood next to me at the chopping board as I studiously avoided his gaze. So coy. So works every time.

Far too much Owen leaking out of my head recently. Very wrong. I must be in need of some male affection. Or more likely a kick in the head.
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Popular in certain communities

Huzzah. The weekend was spent selecting, purchasing, transporting and adorning a Christmas tree. Adorning with red and white lights and baubles decorated with the image of Owen. Yes, Owen is our fairy atop the tree too, his cowboy besuited figure surrounded by glow-in-the-dark stars, jewelled hearts and a feather trim. Like a Mexican altarpiece, of course. A celebratory wall of images has been created behind the tree to complete the effect (not stalkerish, oh no) and new decs are being cooked up over the forthcoming week or so.

When purchasing a tree holder to stabilise the tree (failed due to Monky inability to turn screws), I once again proved my unintentional ability to pull gals. The checkout girl (who looked all of 16) got her 12 year-old-looking, skewed looking friend to run after me and stuff her digits into my hand. Flo was her name. Suprised I was to say the least. I was paying, not flirting. Do I set gaydar off easily? If I were gay I think I would treat all these gals the same way the Monky treats drunk, lecherous men. Contempt. Incredulity. Slight unhappiness. Darn it.

I’ve heard that there maybe a worldwide cheese shortage. I must stockpile immediately. Stockpile then eat. Soon. So the cheese will be stockpiled as fat on my bones.

San Francisco Magazine: The Cheese Squeeze
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*shiver* pt II

Wow. This Japanese sex manual is like twister combined with a step chart for the tango. I particularly like the little arrows on the fingers to indicate movement.

Generally safe for work- With sexual slang/swearing in small type and one explicit image of cardboard being caressed.

How sad. I’m out of art but still enjoy browsing catalogues selling art products. I get excited over canvas. I get a wistful feeling inside when i walk past an art shop. Sigh. Seeing some of the stuff on show at the New Contemporaries today also makes me wonder what could have been.

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Lipstick and lesbians

sons of biscuit eaters!

I have just surfaced from one of the better weekends of my tiny life. A weekend where not much really happened but has left me grinning inanely at random moments (in the car, when I wake up, showering) and feeling really darned good.

Friday: I thought my soul was going to be destroyed before I hit the street. Slowly but surely being ground down by the usual suspects- the public, mangement and bureaucracy. Disassociating wth a smile to survive. For the preceding week I had been discussing the evening, talking up the possibilities with work colleagues. Debauchery was promised so when I rolled up at the agreed meeting point, accessoried with pirate hat, eye patch and my gorgeous over-the-knee boots (aaargh), I was a little disappointed to see a rather sedate scene. No room at the table for this birthday girl (one of three attending) but free champagne courtesy of a lovely Parisian and the arrival of my second-favourite-manwhore. Owen is, of course, my alpha male on that front. It was good to see my manwhore#2. He’s morally flexible on sexual matters and a good person. Flexible surrounded by a good moral framework and a brain to boot. Hoorah. After being attention starved for so very long, it was nice to talk and flirt the evening away through our usual subjects of sex, death and wrestling.

Leaving after an enjoyable, somewhat stilted conversation with the Monster, me and MH#2 proceeded to a nicely skanky biker/rawk pub. I was complemented by a co-worker on my nice even teeth and took a celebratory trip into the mens toilets for a comfort stop. I thought there was only one. I swear. Two drinks, several sets of breasts and many noisy metal tracks later, on to the final resting place of practically every evening in my provincial haven.

My piratical accessories had been popular wherever I went, but in the final bar I was extra popular. There was I- alone, defenseless, holding two drinks. MH#2 had gone to fire the pink pistol at the porcelain firing range. An object of mutual admiration had been a retro-tressed platinum blonde with a full sleeve of tats and a nice rack. Heh. Anyway, she spied me avec hat and plundered (borrowed) it whilst her crusty girlfriend modelled my eyepatch. There is no other word to describe her other than crusty. She was. Anyways, Lori (as she introduced herself) told me I looked gorgeous in my getup. I praised her lovely red lipstick to which she replied “let me know honey and we can go upstairs and i can put some on you.” Oooh. I said thanks, and that i’d be outside. Then everything happened at once. I was attempting to retrieve my hat and patch, holding the drinks, having poppers shoved up my nose by the lesbians and MH#2 reappeared.

I managed to get out a “hello, MH#2” as my head spun and I lurched sideways. Drinks beginning to slosh onto the floor, I was very glad to see him. Much excitement. I spent the rest of the night drinking, chatting and getting my belly button teased. No, that is not any sort of euphemism. But was disturbingly erotic. *shivers*

After fighting my way onto the night bus (trying to pay using gold doubloons) and being complimented by the driver “you look really good” (que hysterical laughter); I wandered through the deserted streets of suburbia to my nice warm nest to spill some pizza. You can do such a thing. I’m experienced.

Saturday: Woke to not too cotton-stuffed a head. Was stood up by a Young Professional but saved by a long time, long time no see friend. We talked, we drank, and it were proper fabulous. An evening of good, brain-taxing, dumbed down, intimate discussion that left me feeling happy, but also like a complete fool that I do not look up said friend more often. Just felt really good to see him, see how he was getting on, and talk about the texture of prostates. Woo.

A great weekend. Best i’ve had in a long, long time.

How’s this for a programme title: The Day My Boobs Went Bust. Classic.
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Project to house homeless hermit

Project to house homeless hermit crabs

Cabinet Magazine Online – The Hand Up Project
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Four and twenty

24 today

Woo. Monky has reached the age of Bauer.

Lets just hope today isn’t going to be the longest day of my life.

I think I shall give Owen a call and invite him over for cake and ice cream. And perhaps less child-friendly activities. Heh.

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Poverty = terror?

“A John F. Kennedy School of Government researcher has cast doubt on the widely held belief that terrorism stems from poverty, finding instead that terrorist violence is related to a nation’s level of political freedom.”

Very interesting report from the Harvard Gazette that contradicts what I usually trot out when railing against the world. Won’t stop me doing so- I’ll just change my tune a bit.
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Ow. Stabbing pain within eye. Maybe lego brick lodged? Ow.

Anyone seen Hopkin Green?
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Yeah. Back in business. At last….
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Moving on

My lease is running out on so the site may disappear for a few days whilst I move hosts…

I will be backing up everything for the move so fingers crossed nopokemeo will emerge unscathed.
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I saw bats swooping around my garden, through the trees and skimming the grass. They looked like leaves with will. I got quite over-excited.

I carved me my first sucesssful pumpkin over the weekend. Sucessful as in not a total mess. Scalpels are very handy for the fine details.

Pumpkin Nook
Pumpkin Gutter Pumpkin Carving 101

To no avail can I find me any pictures of the Chagrin Pumpkin Roll. I heard about ths even a year or two ago via late night radio and it sounds great. Students from a small Cleveland town steal pumpkins throughout Autumn from farms and doorsteps. They collect them all up then dump them down Grove Hill, Chagrin before sliding down the pumpkin lubed slope on sledges, bags, dustbin lids and, yes paddling pools.

Police threaten to run the rollers out of town every year due to public order offences and the effect the roll has on students. Makes them tired apparently and this leads to a lack of learning. Well, darn it. No learning for a day? Injuries such as lost teeth, broken limbs and concussions only add to the the fun. Wish I was there.
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Scooby sucks

Happy I may be, but the last couple of days have been unpleasant. Went trawling round agencies to try and land me a job that is a little more rewarding both financially and mentally that the one I put up with at the moment. Depressing. I am a capable individual but all I am ever offered is admin/customer service jobs. I found it hard not to laugh when a consultant offered me a job as a bank cashier. No, I don’t want that thank you. Do that sort of thin already. I am not a lackey. Oops…

It is difficult to progress to any interviews (where I think I would do well) when my cv says shopmonky. It seems I know too much for my own good but I don’t want to get a bad rep because I think i’m “better than” certain jobs. I realise I don’t deserve to walk into anything, I’d just like a chance to prove myself. I think i’m worth more than £5.84/hr and I believe I can do more than just dole out change to people.

So I go to work, and it’s bad. Nothing in particular- just everything. Woke up on the wrong side of the nest. Customers are extra rude, lazy and dumb and i’m tired and very grumpy. And I let everyone know it. Haha. Anyway, the day ends and I walk out the door to my waiting chariot. The sweet end to a bitter day- about 3/4 of the carpark is carpeted with high performance vehicles. I only notice this when I look out and notice there are five Impreza’s parked in a row, one silver grey version stamped with scooby on it’s boot. Hmmm. Co-inky-dink perhaps or invasion? Scanning further into the dark I see it is lit with the blue neon of undercar lighting and the orange glow of cigarettes. Yay! Kev’d automobiles. Small groups of people cluster around the ground-hugging cars; mostly male they poke into engines and play with ICE (In Car Entertainment), motorsport jackets teastained under the sodium floodlights.

Cheered me up. Carwhore I know.

Then off to a careers fair. Accountants galore- When I mention to anyone I’m an art graduate their faces drop. Even if they have jobs on display I could do and do well at. “Sorry, we don’t have anything available for you at the moment. Sign up and we’ll let you know if something becomes available.” Yeah, don’t call us- We’ll call you. I don’t act all greatful and gushy if anyone takes an interest, I’ve done my research and I know I don’t want to sell out or lie. I’ve also got a well-honed BS detector. So, I’ve clearly got an attitude problem when I brush people off. Sigh.

Oh and my b’day countdown is having issues and I cannot work out why, but then I am a Monky, so that’s not exactly suprising.

“Like a freshly-chilled bottle of Stella, the December issue of Fast Ford’s guaranteed to hit the spot.”


Turbo Nutters featured cars
The MKV Register
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So, as you can see- The lack of updates means life is very dull here in Casa Monky. I dialup and browse every so often but nothing really catches my eye; work sucks, life is boring. I try and finish my CV but it never satisfies- I’m more than capable of doing most anything (except for maths-based careers) but to know this employers would have to talk to me to see that i’m not the shop girl my CV says I am.

I beat myself up about my lack of decent employment and get pissed off with work. Nevertheless I am quite happy. I read books and watch some TV instead of whileing away hours online. I’m ploughing voraciously through the latest Henning Mankell at the moment- Highly enjoyable as usual.

In a perhaps less intellectual way, I recently amused myself for an entire day at work by thinking about the scoundrel that is Han Solo. I would be putting stock out and colleagues would pass me grinning. I sorted customer orders with a smirk. It passed the time well, I can tell you.

Nice holster

All this was due to the previous nights Empire and Jedi viewing (well, morning- til 3am). I hadn’t seen them since they were re-released in ’97, so as you can imagine I was rather excitable, especially after a glass of wine and a half pint of cider. I was tired, honest. My first video was Star Wars recorded off the TV. I still remember the adverts that ran in between. I watched it over and over again, and the tape eventually became warped and stretched from overuse. I have a huge Indy love too, and early Harrison Ford flicks are fantastic, before vanity got in the way. Up until Clear and Present Danger– After that everything started to go downhill.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look upon Ford love, my housemate is an unabashed Ford fan also. So, I waxed lyrical for the length of both films picking out little bits of Solo joy. Yes, I even spluttered when he bent over to fix the hyperdrive in the falcon: “That is a very gratuitous shot. There’s no need for that sort of thing!” (sigh). I know he wears a waistcoat, but it’s the charm, the wit, the bad boy, those trousers, the holster, those hips, that hair, the boots, la la la….

You were named after the dog?
Harrison Ford Media

We also discussed what an Ewok would eat if we were friends with one. I thought they would eat kids food- like spaghetti, alphabet-shaped potatoes, fish fingers etc. My housemate decided upon bananas and yoghurt. Also, I could definitely imagine them licking on of those simple lollypops that you buy in packs at the supermarket and freeze when you get home. Having little blue-stained tongues poking through their mouths when saying “Yub Yub.”
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Just Because…

La Parka

Just because he’s cool.
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Got Your Back…

Fiiinally… The Monky is back in cyberspace. Goodness it’s been a while. Few things to announce:

Some posts have disappeared into the ether. This includes the one about nest moving, the erotic qualities of Hellboy and every single image posted. Darn it. This is due to the site going bye byes due to problems not of my making. My site was intermittant, and Urchin vanished, which notified me that something was up, so I decided to email “Support.”

They told me that my account was being moved servers and that it shouldn’t take very long. Nice of them to let me know about this of course, so I felt just a little apprehensive. My site then totally disappeared from the internet. Another email to them. They gave me new account details and said that all my data was stored in a backup folder in my new server account. I looked. Another email.

Where was the folder? I couldn’t find it, and asked whether I was just being very dumb. We’ve been hacked, says they- All your data is lost. Fabulous says I. Also, bullshit.

Thankfully, due to the site bizarreness I’d done an SQL dump of everything at the end of August, so I didn’t lose everything. I will try and restore the post images, but I think the gallery will stay offline for the moment.

So, I’ve moved home, more or less kicked an unpleasant habit of four years and I feel happy. Still working in a very low paid job, and am still very unsure of my future but life ain’t too bad the the moment. Hoorah.
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Lordy. The Sex and the City episode “Attack of the 5′ 10″ Woman” has disturbing similarities to my life. There’s a Big and a Natasha, and a Carrie and a Charlotte around me. I’m just a little short on the apartment, sexay bohday, men, outfits and money. So really like my life then. Who am I in this little drama? A combo of all of the characters i think.

“The woman is an idiot!”

Two geeks in work today. One of them was doing that estimable geek thing of trying to look easygoing and cool towards a member of the opposite sex and overcompensating gloriously. They were both really nice actually, just pleasant customers as opposed to the usual rude demanding idiots. They were picking out yellow and black spray paint and wanted my advice as to the best finish. For their case mods. Woo! I love a bit of modding, be it computers or cars. They said they’d come back and finalise their colourway later as they had to go back to Maplin in order to match some tape they saw there. Like the geek version of matching your shoes to your outfit.


A really, really cool scaled roller coaster video.

Windswept and interesting. Quite. Bizarre after-show footage of Darrin Mathews getting “a few” stitches to his head…

56K 100K 300K WM

Watching the muscles of his jaw bunch and his breathing get heavy and ragged indicates it’s just another walk in the park for him.

Concussion and shock is just so darned fun.

Chris Nowinski on post-concussion syndrome
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Whilst waiting for the bus another floundering moth was attracted to my burning greatness. I’m Mother Theresa to the drunk. An unsteady, middle-aged man started chatting at me in a very quiet voice. He wore oversized, fingerprint-splodged glasses; a blue checked shirt and a long, very battered brown leather jacket. He was bald and his face had a slight sheen of sweat covering it. He smelt of thinners or some such substance, sort of solventy and sweet. He told me that he had lost over £80,000 over the last 2 years in various casinos and that he wanted my advice as to precisely how much money he should ask his social worker for during his next visit. Was £800 too much? £1500? £600?

He kept repeating that he had an account that he had savings in but that he couldn’t get any money out as he didn’t have a passbook. I asked him if he had tried the Citizens Advice Bureau. He said he had but that they couldn’t help him. He also said that he had about £30,000 in debt and that he can go to the casino and they will give him money. The bank and casino seemed to be mixed in his mind. I couldn’t think of any way to tactfully ask him if he thought he had a problem. Any help I proffered wouldn’t be of any help anyway. I attract the middle-aged men at the bar, the people who need to talk to someone. Easy target or do I just look approachable? The ones I actually want to attract run screaming…

Ugh. Been having trouble sleeping these last two weeks. Combination of the weather, work stress, getting-my-car-fixed woe and relationship strife. I lie awake for hours thinking about problems, thinking things through. After dropping off I wake up very early and can’t get back to sleep. After hours staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the table I manage to slip back under and rewake feeling awful. Unpleasant, fitful dreams about my future and others in my life. Rather not have them- they add to the stress.

The moon this evening looks like it is being suffocated with a dirty plastic bag. It’s large, heavy and yellow. Pretty. The Son’s Room– Highly recommended. Slow, thoughtful and full of truth.
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Trevor Brown
(Not W/S)
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Woke up mad today. Not mad as in radio, mad as in angry. I woke with thoughts of raining my vengeance upon certain people. I think it must be delayed shock. My thoughts contained visions of baseball bats, knives and scissors, and the ensuing mutilation and mayhem. I’m not a psycho I swear. Over this violence hung overwhelming feelings of loss and sadness. Dear me, I should become like others and not trouble my pretty little head with things like thinking, I would be so much better off. All this thinking gets me nowhere afterall.

I will never act upon my mental ravings, it’s just sweet to imagine getting some comeback for injustice and falsehoods dished out to me. I’m probably only angry and upset because I am well trained to turn the anger inwards rather than yelling and maybe getting rid of some of it, which, although all violence is bad, I am perfectly entitled to do. Heh. Men act out, women turn inwards.

Rar rar rar I am Monky hear me er, whimper…
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It should be easy to make this site look acceptable in both my current browser of choice Mozilla and my ex-browser IE. It should be very easy. Can I manage it? Nope. It’s down to my cellpadding on my tables and my nopokemeo logo not matching with it’s surrounds. Looks all good in IE as it was designed to do but now i’ve switched over to the tabbed glories of Mozilla it all looks not as intended.

The world is clearly coming to an end. Apart from plagues of locusts, boils, fire and brimstone etc, Mozilla crashed on me for the first time. An indicator of doom if ever I saw one.

Had my first experience of audio described television last night. I was watching Signed Blue Planet and was enjoying watching the Marlin, Sei and Manta chasing their prey with the added interest of signing gestures. I like watching how the voiceover and visuals match up to the visual gestures and facial expressions. I was somewhat suprised when a soft female voice began to describe how fish scales floating in the water were like “tiny shimmering stars.” “An aerial view of a steel grey sea.” “Different fish in sillouhette surround the knarled flotsam of the net.” The descriptions were all nicely imaginative and somehow quite poetic, but to my relatively good eyes and ears sometimes intrusive, probably because of the sparse nature of the programme.

RNIB: What Is Audio Description
OFCOM: The Principles of Audio Description Using Practical Examples
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see more

Porn: A Family Business. Just plain odd, and not in a “shock! porn people lead normal lives” way. Something I can’t put my finger on at the moment. I shall ruminate upon it.

Oooh. The Rock is mine to own. All hot and dirty. He’s in the jungle, fool. I didn’t manage to catch his latest opus. Dwayne and Neal in a film together. Getting all dirty and injured. And hot.
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I thought my broken relationship was merely mildly sprained. Now I am beginning to see that radical surgery may be required. Radical surgery in the form of amputation.

I’ve just got to decide what course of treatment to take. Difficult decisions. Is the relationship worth attempting to fix? I don’t know. I’ve sacrificed so many things. My love isn’t enough. How do I go on from whatever action I decide to take? If I go ahead with the operation, putting things back together after living with the symptoms for four years is going to be tough. Either way, it’s going to affect me for a very long time to come. If only there was some guidence in the form of a treatment regime.

The stupid thing about it all is that I care for the broken one more than anyone else in the world. I love him when all around me are urging me to excise. I’m used to having my heart ground into the carpet, it’s happened so often my supply of replacement monkey hearts is beginning to dry up.

Hopefully I can find a workaround- Preserving myself from pain whilst keeping my lil shark close to me. I don’t want to amputate.

Did I mention I love him? Yes, I’m a total ‘tard. No, he doesn’t love me back.

If I could just come to accept that I am going to be alone in this world then I could rest easy. Thing is, I think i would have to perform reduction surgery on my heart. It would just be nice for once in my short, pathetic existence if I could end up on the winning side. The happy side, who get to scream We Are The Champions whilst getting some sweet team loving.

But this is me i’m talking about. I saw a t-shirt today in the hospital waiting room that said “I think, therefore i’m single” Too true. I’m a good person, interesting, funny, intellegent, not too bad looking, loyal and loving. Therefore I am such a loser.

Find me somebody to love, and give just a little love in return. Is that too much to ask? Seems so.
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Exhibition June 2004

Finally, The Monky has got her photos developed. Of the exhibition I mean.
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Now here’s a religious institution

Now here’s a religious institution I could believe in: Fans set up church of SpongeBob
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Disinterested disintegration

The slow disintegration of a relationship is a painful thing to watch, especially when you’re not just standing on the sidelines. The intimacy and affection seems to have gone and I feel like I don’t know the subject as well any more. I get the impression that it’s getting to be a chore to come see me and if I try and talk to them about a problem they get pissed off. It’s kinda sad when so much time, effort, money and above all heart has been invested in someone for nought.

I can’t win- I’m as usual the loser. Four years I can’t have back that are going to affect me for a long time to come. I think through all my actions and I don’t think i’ve done anything wrong, but still I have to ask myself what’s wrong with me, what’s so repellent? Defective in some way I cannot see, and I am my harshest critic. Any ideas? Apart from “stop whining you indulgent bitch”- I know this already.

Changing the topic sharpish, I just saw Jonathan Davis Leash Freaking at Download. My God, the man looks different. Apparently he has to use oxygen to get through the gigs.

aEuropean is a nice little blog on identity and being European. It’s in the process of coming together but it looks like there’ll be some well thought-out entries. In the interests of full disclosure, I should say I know the author, and that’s why I can safely predict interesting things- interesting person.
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Fallslake in progress

blah blah I can't draw

It’s bad, but strangely satisfying. Years of excellent art education means that I can’t draw very well, at least not in a realistic manner. So, I take photographs, use my laptop to play or make objects with thought surrounding them. Monky no draw good. Anyway, this bad work in progress is where I’m at after Fallslake.

All done in pencil on a sparkling new pad and erased with a (formerly) pristine white rubber. Hence the smudging. Excuse the Megadeth and Thin Red Line written on the right hand side of the page.

All Music is not just drawing ire from the Monky. There are lots of complaints

Sitepoint: AllMusicGuide- A Web Standards case study
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art honesty

Wandering round the garden in my headNow I am free from the tyrrany of institutional art “education” I find myself thinking about art alot more than I did before. Thinking of things to do, stuff to make etc. I listen to music and I get an urge to create (cliched I know). Mostly mess mind you, but things of a variety and complexity not seen in my head for quite a while.

I’ve always been better at thinking and talking about my work than actually creating it (quote from my tutor) but maybe I need to be away from the guilt trip of the Art Department to do any. This will probably come to nought but it’s an interesting development nonetheless.

“wandering in the dark/
on the path to the lake…”

All because I heard Nobukazu Takemura‘s “Fallslake” on The Breezeblock Japanese Special. Takemura came up with the noises of the Aibo. Mu’s– “Tiger Bastard” and “Paris Hilton” were great too. Particularly liked the cock noises. As in cock-a-doodle-doo from poultry, not friction based emissions.

Although Fallslake has been on loop for about the last half hour, I haven’t tired of it (yet). Even with Win I eventually had to set it aside.

Oh, and what the fuck have they done to All Music? Argh. Too complicated Webmonkeys!
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And the meek shall inherit the Earth…

I consider myself a good person, very loyal to my friends and although weird, possessing morals, standards and the like. I’m usually more up to speed with life than the opposition (monky vs world… monky win!!!) and though self-deprecating like all Brits are, I have talents, and am not as hideous as I think I appear. Let’s face it reader, I am hot stuff. Oh yes. Why then am I such a loser?


I’m not alone in this. Most of my friends have the same problem, and taking as un-biased position as possible, I can say that they are good people, but still get stepped on whilst merely trying to live their lives. It pisses me off to see “less worthy” individuals getting their kicks over the rest of us losers. Dammit.

That’s what pouring your life into a bottomless pit for four fuckin’ years will get you. That’s right, Ladies and Gentlemen, moral superiority…
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la la la Just watched The Peacemaker. Nicole Kidman was a little too screamy for my liking, but if I had to go through what she had to, I think even I would let a couple of lungfuls out, George Clooney or no. She has good style on her freestyle I must say.

I haven’t heard George swear so frequently or forcefully before. For some reason, when he said “Fuckin'” I melted onto the sofa just a ‘lil bit. Like a chocolate bar left in the glovebox on a warm day. Soft. Eugh.

It was a different vehemence of fuck than I’ve been exposed to from him e.g. Three Kings, Out of Sight. He looked good in Chocolate Chip in Three Kings, but not as good as in The Peacemaker as Colonel Thomas Devoe in a black t-shirt and slightly too tight trousers. Nice forearms. Mind you, a bit battered and grimy he’s lookin’ fine wherever.

Getting retarded in the Monky nest…
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