Monday, 5 December 2011
Monday, 27 June 2011
It's So Fucking Hot.
Heat-induced scrot-rot.
Sweaty as pigs,
Balls like dried figs.
Swealtering like bacon,
Testes looking more like raisins.
Perspiring from your hairy brain,
As you do a dance to encourage rain.
Fallen back on your settee,
Leather stuck to the back of your knee.
Fuckin cryin' about this heat,
Ballbag's smell,
Is resembling wheat.
Monday, 20 June 2011
Why I constantly Cry About Internet Being Shit Yet Still Use It.
The title was going to be "Why I constantly Cry About The Internet Being Shit" but ironically I am posting a blog via the internet for you to read,so I reasoned this irony with an insight into why I use it - consequently adding a facet to this little piece of writing which acts as an explanation to why the internet's shit, otherwise i would have purely posted a status on Facebook saying "Internet is shit", or as some of you might like to post "Internet is shit :/" to try and add a tiny amount of emotion and humour - humour in the sense that they are humouring themselves as well as an attempt to be vaguely humourous via the inclusion of a colon and a slash. This is virtual humour in its lowest form and may aswell be described as 'toilet humour'. It's major similarities with a toilet being the likely hoods of 'colons' being active and 'slashing' aplenty. The inclusion of emotion via a variance of alphabet, numbers and all manner of symbols available at your finger tips, is its own alphabet for emotions. But when i use these codes to send an emotion i won't truely be smiling, frowning, angry, shocked. My face doesn't falter, and I'm pretty sure other people's face's don't either. We are virtually feeling these emotions, and just like a computer, read the data without understanding the true interpretations or knowing whether the interpretations are true. We don't act organically as we should. Stimulus & Response, rarely anything else. Acting like droids for large portions of our days as we carry out codes into an item that stores the codes and grows like, well, ironically like an organism.
Computers are becoming the organic substance and reality itself gets sucked into it, becoming distorted and degrading every aspect. Every aspect converted to just a series of 0's and 1's. When i talk about the poisoning of social interaction my emphasis is aimed at social networking, namely facebook of course. I'm not pretending that i don't use it, i certainly do, and if you are actually reading this it would likely to have been via a link from my facebook. Its ease of sharing is unrivaled, to the extent we might, (and surprisingly often), post a status about the most menial, unconstructive and neutral things such as what we've just eaten. Utterly annoying... I've done it myself a lot. However, that doesn't stop my addiction to this wasteland of white pixels scattered with an ever growing and densely poppulated sea of bollocks. It even has an autonomous effect on the way we photograph and are photographing ourselves and each other. Note that it is an 'effect' and not 'affect' because it bipasses the emotional level - once again we act as if we are digital devices to be stored on computer. Our essence captured via the interpretation of a digital device, stored as data known as pixels and then stored as web data which we then subjectively judge, trying to infer a personality and completely failing to understand the complexities of the people we shuffle through. On a personal level, I found that if you hastily click through the photographs then it is likely that you do not know that person well and should really either delete them as a friend or get to know them. If, however, you gaze at the photographs, you are likely to be experience a human response, and to an extent it musters a provokement and recollection of attatched thought, nostalgia. I've found that even this enjoyment can become pacified with high facebook usage.
How we look in photographs knowing that they will be published and viewed by friends and acquaintances and even strangers is very evident, and for some girls can be crushing. Often the harder we might try to look good in a photograph the more obviously uncomfortable we are about it. There are many women, and men aswell, that will use the same expression, body language, and gestures over and over again. The photograph becomes a ritual as you pose, holding yourself still in anticipation to became a virtual piece of data, when it is the camera that holds you still anyway. Now as we are being photographed we autonomously envisage ourselves virtually, as an entity existing on the internet to be viewed by others, and for some, this is enough to cement a concrete response to the stimulus - photo, after photo, after photo.
The irony in this whole blog post is my obvious involvement with social networking, blogging, youtube etc. In truth, the internet's practicalities and ease are devestatingly potent and for this reason I can't see myself ever not using it due to it's addictive nature. Practicalities and ease are what we strive for yet i think we all know its accessibility is not rewarding. How much better is it to meet and talk with a friend than to talk to them on the internet? Taking a step back from the situation it is easy to recognise the problem in evolutionary terms, viewing humans just as any other animal. Why waste precious energy doing stuff and risking a higher percentage of not surviving when you could instead be resting and increasing your chances of passing your genes on to another generation? So we all rest and enjoy the comfort of the internet and the knowledge it beholds, and continue to pass our genes on as a duty to feed the young hatchling - the internet.
My title is 'Why I Constantly Cry About Internet Being Shit Yet Still Use It'. This title can be answered simply through analysing the title itself. When i say that I constantly 'cry about internet being shit' I am explaining two very human organic processes, in the description of a soulless and self unaware invention. The friction between natural process and digital environment highlights the main point I am basically making that as a species we are not all that well suited to live our lives virtually. Think of computer nerds, who have unfortunately for whatever reason have found they are not well suited to the natural social environment so they turn to computers for solace. They do not compute with society so they purely compute.
Now time to check my facebook...
Computers are becoming the organic substance and reality itself gets sucked into it, becoming distorted and degrading every aspect. Every aspect converted to just a series of 0's and 1's. When i talk about the poisoning of social interaction my emphasis is aimed at social networking, namely facebook of course. I'm not pretending that i don't use it, i certainly do, and if you are actually reading this it would likely to have been via a link from my facebook. Its ease of sharing is unrivaled, to the extent we might, (and surprisingly often), post a status about the most menial, unconstructive and neutral things such as what we've just eaten. Utterly annoying... I've done it myself a lot. However, that doesn't stop my addiction to this wasteland of white pixels scattered with an ever growing and densely poppulated sea of bollocks. It even has an autonomous effect on the way we photograph and are photographing ourselves and each other. Note that it is an 'effect' and not 'affect' because it bipasses the emotional level - once again we act as if we are digital devices to be stored on computer. Our essence captured via the interpretation of a digital device, stored as data known as pixels and then stored as web data which we then subjectively judge, trying to infer a personality and completely failing to understand the complexities of the people we shuffle through. On a personal level, I found that if you hastily click through the photographs then it is likely that you do not know that person well and should really either delete them as a friend or get to know them. If, however, you gaze at the photographs, you are likely to be experience a human response, and to an extent it musters a provokement and recollection of attatched thought, nostalgia. I've found that even this enjoyment can become pacified with high facebook usage.
How we look in photographs knowing that they will be published and viewed by friends and acquaintances and even strangers is very evident, and for some girls can be crushing. Often the harder we might try to look good in a photograph the more obviously uncomfortable we are about it. There are many women, and men aswell, that will use the same expression, body language, and gestures over and over again. The photograph becomes a ritual as you pose, holding yourself still in anticipation to became a virtual piece of data, when it is the camera that holds you still anyway. Now as we are being photographed we autonomously envisage ourselves virtually, as an entity existing on the internet to be viewed by others, and for some, this is enough to cement a concrete response to the stimulus - photo, after photo, after photo.
The irony in this whole blog post is my obvious involvement with social networking, blogging, youtube etc. In truth, the internet's practicalities and ease are devestatingly potent and for this reason I can't see myself ever not using it due to it's addictive nature. Practicalities and ease are what we strive for yet i think we all know its accessibility is not rewarding. How much better is it to meet and talk with a friend than to talk to them on the internet? Taking a step back from the situation it is easy to recognise the problem in evolutionary terms, viewing humans just as any other animal. Why waste precious energy doing stuff and risking a higher percentage of not surviving when you could instead be resting and increasing your chances of passing your genes on to another generation? So we all rest and enjoy the comfort of the internet and the knowledge it beholds, and continue to pass our genes on as a duty to feed the young hatchling - the internet.
My title is 'Why I Constantly Cry About Internet Being Shit Yet Still Use It'. This title can be answered simply through analysing the title itself. When i say that I constantly 'cry about internet being shit' I am explaining two very human organic processes, in the description of a soulless and self unaware invention. The friction between natural process and digital environment highlights the main point I am basically making that as a species we are not all that well suited to live our lives virtually. Think of computer nerds, who have unfortunately for whatever reason have found they are not well suited to the natural social environment so they turn to computers for solace. They do not compute with society so they purely compute.
Now time to check my facebook...
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Clavical.
Vinnie licked his dry wound in an attempt to moisten the exposed ligament. This only caused more problems. Due to the veracity of his licking he just so happened to expell the exact resonant frequency needed to completely shatter his own shin and empty his bowels into his dung hamper. Whether the defecation was caused by the resonant frequency or purely the excrutiating pain of a shattered shin was unbeknown to Vinnie, but at this pivotal moment in time this detail was not important to him. It was not the excrutiating pain that left Vinnie unbothered as to the true reason behind the disposal of his sticky, corn-laden excrement - infact the small amount of moisture sweating out of the faeces was a luxury to the juiceless, whithering young man. Considering the unfortunate sequence of affairs that had left Vinnie in such dire circumstances, shitting himself was practically as good as winning the World Cup or the Nobel Peace Prize. What was actually stopping Vinnie from full credence on the stinky brown matter was much more important. The recurring thought striking Vinnie's dehydrated temples was of real importance, and was gaining momentum in his throbbing brain... the thought was growing in intensity - voyaging across his brain - each synapse electrically alerting the next with such energy - as if they somehow knew themselves that this thought was so divine, so exceptional. Neurons were firing in pockets of the brain which up until this moment had been completely barron (other than a small scattering of microscopic, rusting agricultural equipment and fly tipping waste such as washing machines and car batteries). This thought however, could not be uttered; as much as Vinnie wanted to, he couldn't. The thought was irretrievable due to its coding. It was a language that made complete sense in Vinnie's mind but upon explanation, even to himself, it made no sense at all. A combination of complex algorithms, shapes, colours, smells, bagels, haircuts, densities, viscosities, hats and all manner of collective experiences culminated in this epiphany which ran through the squidgey grey matter, never to leave the fortress of Vinnie's dense skull.
Friday, 27 May 2011
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Dedicated to Lenny Henry (if he was poor)
Pessimistic Lenny,
Only had one penny,
Never had much to do,
But then less fortunate others,
With less capital and more brothers,
Think Lenny's penny's a silver spoon.
A quote for if i was a renowned comedian.
Good comedy is like a good massage. Not only in the sense that it is able to ease the soul but in the way that it manipulates to the point of extacy.
Idea for a film
A ball boy at Wimbledon stuns the crowd with a strong backhand smash against Roger Federa. Raphael Nadal, a bystander to the event and Federa's arch nemesis, see's the great feat and pursues the ball boy, in hope of turning the ball boy to the terracotta/orange side (clay court). It is up to Federa to 'ace' his way to the ball boy in the upcoming 'French Toast Open' (sponsored by Ferrero Rocher) in hope that he draws the ball boy in an early round, before it's too late...before clay court is the only side - and everyone knows there has to be two sides to a story...and three sides if it's a shape.
Expect Drama, Passion, Line Calls, Laughter, Contentious Line Calls, and a game that goes to deuce, and then advantage and then back to deuce, and then advantaging to the other player and then deuce again and then the other player finally wins the game and thinks "why didn't i do that in the first place? Stupid me! I'll remember to win more simply in the future. Once again, i'm really baffled by that. Ah well."
Pessimistic Lenny,
Only had one penny,
Never had much to do,
But then less fortunate others,
With less capital and more brothers,
Think Lenny's penny's a silver spoon.
A quote for if i was a renowned comedian.
Good comedy is like a good massage. Not only in the sense that it is able to ease the soul but in the way that it manipulates to the point of extacy.
Idea for a film
A ball boy at Wimbledon stuns the crowd with a strong backhand smash against Roger Federa. Raphael Nadal, a bystander to the event and Federa's arch nemesis, see's the great feat and pursues the ball boy, in hope of turning the ball boy to the terracotta/orange side (clay court). It is up to Federa to 'ace' his way to the ball boy in the upcoming 'French Toast Open' (sponsored by Ferrero Rocher) in hope that he draws the ball boy in an early round, before it's too late...before clay court is the only side - and everyone knows there has to be two sides to a story...and three sides if it's a shape.
Expect Drama, Passion, Line Calls, Laughter, Contentious Line Calls, and a game that goes to deuce, and then advantage and then back to deuce, and then advantaging to the other player and then deuce again and then the other player finally wins the game and thinks "why didn't i do that in the first place? Stupid me! I'll remember to win more simply in the future. Once again, i'm really baffled by that. Ah well."
Thursday, 7 October 2010
Our House, in the middle of our fetid street...
We now have a house. I say house, it would be better classified as an asylum for mice, dampness, and a selection of rare moulds (hitherto, have been discovered in the british isles). Just 45 minutes before i wrote this blog i recieved a text meassage from my housemate Greg, which read as follows:
Anyway, after that discussion that happened earlier i thought it would be good to write a blog about our house and thus i am typing away, using my beautiful and dainty fingers.
We should be getting a plummer in on monday so we can finally have hot water. (he's going to bring some in a thermos flask). But yeh, that will be good, and hopefully we could hire a basking shark to breathe heavily in our house and filter the dampness out of the air. If that doesn't work I'm sure a Polish guy will do the same job for half the price. I assume they are also filter feeders and live off plankton?
The house came with a pack of unused Vacuum Pack bags which i used yesterday to store some bed sheets. I am now trying to decide on a ridiculous item to vaccum pack. My own hair? A sparrow? A balloon? Sand? Weng? (what the hell is Weng?).
But it seems the dampness is not only causing a rapid growth in moss and mould and other things beginning with 'M' but also it is warping our Moors... *Doors. Our doors don't want to close now. The wood grain is expaning at such rapid a rate that I fear i will become engolfed in cheap, unvarnished pine within the next 48 hours. Even the soil in my plant pot is harbouring a fuzzy blue mould, and im pretty sure the spores are settling on my body when im asleep and giving me moles. I have about 3 new moles on my body that i wasn't aware of, its either the mould spores or exposure to gamma rays, probably more likely to be the latter since i recently grew a shin on my sternum. I named it 'Alicia Benedril Silverstone'.
We had mice but they seemed to have fucked off now. I named them all 'Alicia Benedril Silverstone'. This blog makes our house sound like an absolute shit hole of a squat. It's not. It got refurbished over the summer and looks fairly nice. The house seems to be subsiding a bit, but that just adds character and our garden is good coz we can burn shit in it.
played football yesterday. enjoyed it.
xxxxxxx
'There's moss growing in my bedroom!'....he later proceeded to text me telling me how gifted i was at water polo and how he admired me, and how he loves my dress sense and wishes he could be like me and i was like:
'dont worry greg you have plenty to live for, one day, you may be like me...but you just hang in there yeh...you little trooper you.?'
Anyway, after that discussion that happened earlier i thought it would be good to write a blog about our house and thus i am typing away, using my beautiful and dainty fingers.
We should be getting a plummer in on monday so we can finally have hot water. (he's going to bring some in a thermos flask). But yeh, that will be good, and hopefully we could hire a basking shark to breathe heavily in our house and filter the dampness out of the air. If that doesn't work I'm sure a Polish guy will do the same job for half the price. I assume they are also filter feeders and live off plankton?
The house came with a pack of unused Vacuum Pack bags which i used yesterday to store some bed sheets. I am now trying to decide on a ridiculous item to vaccum pack. My own hair? A sparrow? A balloon? Sand? Weng? (what the hell is Weng?).
But it seems the dampness is not only causing a rapid growth in moss and mould and other things beginning with 'M' but also it is warping our Moors... *Doors. Our doors don't want to close now. The wood grain is expaning at such rapid a rate that I fear i will become engolfed in cheap, unvarnished pine within the next 48 hours. Even the soil in my plant pot is harbouring a fuzzy blue mould, and im pretty sure the spores are settling on my body when im asleep and giving me moles. I have about 3 new moles on my body that i wasn't aware of, its either the mould spores or exposure to gamma rays, probably more likely to be the latter since i recently grew a shin on my sternum. I named it 'Alicia Benedril Silverstone'.
We had mice but they seemed to have fucked off now. I named them all 'Alicia Benedril Silverstone'. This blog makes our house sound like an absolute shit hole of a squat. It's not. It got refurbished over the summer and looks fairly nice. The house seems to be subsiding a bit, but that just adds character and our garden is good coz we can burn shit in it.
played football yesterday. enjoyed it.
xxxxxxx
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