October 14, 2005

Your Changes Have Been Saved

Alright alright alright! Enough of this avoiding the internet nonsense. Although it may or may not be true that I have reclaimed my life by no longer spending thirty two hours a day online, I have returned, at the nagging, CONSISTENT nagging, of my adoring fans, who adore me. That's what gives me my self worth. That I am adored. So thank goodness they adore me! Or I'd be in an awful state, crying all the time, possibly cutting myself and what have you. That's all the rage. The cutting. With little Bic blades, five for a euro! In my day we just wrote sad poems and songs of lost love, all to suspectly similar tunes formed with the three chords we could play on the guitar. Nobody was slicing themselves up, except for horrid accidents while chopping up melons. We used to have a little sob, when we were sad, a little moan on the old telephone. Maybe we would eat a couple of Moro bars, maybe if we were very rebellious or poor, we'd down half a can of cheap lager, throw the other three away and talk about being really drunk. But now? Now with the cutting and the bleeding and the anorexia. Well, it's all a bit much isn't it? And all because they don't have the security blanket that is a little den of suckling, adoring fans. Who adore me, with all the adoration their bursting little hearts can muster. You gotta ask yourself one question. Do you feel lucky punk?

Oh, oh it's not luck. It's charm, charisma, and having all your limbs.

WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING

I don't know. WORKING. Work is crap, I hate having a job. I prefer sleeping in, watching the Simpsons, discussing the world's problems with a frozen pizza and a nice glass of cheap wine (frozen pizzas are better at adult conversation than their unenvironmentally friendly packaging would imply!)... all that good stuff. SATURDAYS. Now, that's what it's all about. Sundays less so; they come with churchy responsibilities (not bad, but a little work-related) and family obligations (well, it's better than having little bits of your calf muscles freeze-burned off).

My housemates are still off the continent. Unsurprising really: they've gone for the year. Somehow, though, I always expect them to come swanning in the door, smelling of fresh turf and scones like they used to... note: this memory may be false

I got a hand-written letter from M in India today, wahoo! Hand written letters are marvellous. Wonderfully more personal than emails. She even included recipes from an Indian newspaper...I would be lying if I said I wasn't seduced by the exoticnessity of it all. Not that I despise technology, no, I like my induction coils and my, er, wires, and what have you, just fine, so I do. I plan to write back, and I might include a handful of King crisps in the envelope. Mags is notorious for her love of King crisps. And you can't get them in Magical Indialand, no!

The point is: things are in a continual state of change. For example, tomorrow I am taking two Korean teenagers out for a DAY OF FUN in the city, and none of us understands why! But it's happening because LIFE IS CHANGING and YOU HAVE TO KEEP RUNNING! AND TAKING THE ACID!

What else has changed? I have been a social flower, having lots of guests and little parties and watching films. A History Of Violence was good, it was about a man with a history of violence. I've also been most terribly holy, enjoying a women's prayer gathering with three of my delightfully wise ladyfriends. You can come, if you have a womb. Or used to have one. We don't discriminate against those who have taken their wombs out, even if they have used the newly-extracted womb for moneymaking purposes.

TONIGHT OUR WEATHER WILL BE MOSTLY DRY AND MILD

Says somebody on tv; I have no reason to disbelieve her. My husbandry unit is working, as usual, earning a buck or two so that we can have omlettes made from Fabergé eggs every morning, in the style we are accustomed to. Meanwhile I am watching Neighbours which K would never approve of, but how can I resist? Izzy is spinning a web of lies on a parallel with none other. Bar of course Judas.

TV3 NEWS IS LIKE BEING AT THE DISCO! DANCE, YA BASTID!

So Daniel Craig is the new James Bond. Well that should be just like all the others. Good thing I like ham. Bond movies are so hammy they go all the way around the ham-o-meter to being entertaining again. I shall, of course, however, be waiting until the new movies get shown on tv. Speaking of Bond, I once saw Pierce Brosnan in a shopping centre. I left him alone though, crowds of celebrity-loving dolts were surrounding him like a pungent odour. Poor man. Seeing Pierce was the closest I've ever come to marrying a rich actor, which used to be my ambition. If I'm honest, it still is.

Here is a confession that many, including Zoomtard and Stig, will be both excited and gratified about. I enjoyed watching the Ireland Switzerland match the other night, even if the performances were frightful and the score appalling. I am actually sad that we lost. My emotions have come into line with those of a common garden football hooligan. This is a sad day. Before you know it, I will be wearing nothing but football jerseys to work, vomiting in the streets and trashing shop windows angrily when my team inevitably fails.

Nonsense and tripe, that's what this journal entry is. But it's for you, and it's free, and it's thanks to the Meat Advisory Board.

neuro-praxis -- Does A Mighty British Accent

Posted by neuro-praxis on October 14, 2005 05:24 PM, in the category Rhythm Worries