Monday, August 04, 2008

Why dogs only howl at night time. Why they never seem to understand Ingerlish. Dogs aren't very intelligent, basically. The fools.

*Friendly Kid*

It started as a euphemism for the nastiest thing you can possibly call anyone. Yeah, work it out. Not so nice a title now, is it? Hmmm. Well I'm sorry. I just wanted to break the mood of levity.

Herein there are posts on a variety of stuffs. I'm loath to debase myself and use the modern vernacular (preferring to freebase myself and use a more poncy lexiconia), but if I was I'd say: "It's all a bit random. A bit sad really. It will make you LOL. Or yawn." It seems quite the modern thing to not have a clue what is going on in the world. We are all lone voices screaming in the urban wilderness. Everyone screaming, no one listening. I aim to add to the late night howls of lonely dog anguish.

Wow. How *sad* is that? Very. And probably not in the least bit true. Just the usual self-dramatisation. Helped by the fact that there are 87gazillion blogs in the world and no earthly reason why anyone will ever read this one. Which is quite liberating.

So here I am, like a mad man screaming at people in the street. Only worse cos I'm not quite getting the cathartic lungbusting release that they get and they have more people listening to them. (I did actually see a mad woman screaming yesterday in the street. I could sort of see where she was coming from. Though I'm not sure she knew where she was going. But let's not get sidetracked, just yet.)

So, *blogging*.

To Blog, or not to Blog?

I bet no one has ever written that line before...

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So, entertaining for about 23 seconds, right? But yes, I have researched many blogs. Done a lot of reading. And here is my exemplar. The man who I would like to aspire to become:

Creed Bratton from the American Office. My blogging hero. Everything I know about blogging I learnt from Creed: watch and weep...



Like Creed I started with a Microsoft Word document. A *diary*. I got as far as naming and saving the file. I may have added a sentence 2 months later saying how lazy I was. But really? My life. Not interesting enough to write about. Really not. Hopefully there will be no lists of *my top 10 cups of tea this week*

no.7 – a slightly milky cup of Earl Grey at a caff in Hebdon Bridge. A bit over-priced but very refreshing after a long walk up bla bla. My fundament.

So the only answer to *Why?* would have to be – to stave off the onset of isolation induced madness. Or to exercise my thinking and writing muscles when writing my ever-lasting-never-ending novel seems to hard to attempt.

Novel thoughts:

"Re-write chapter 3 again? How bored am I with that idea? Maybe I should set the whole thing in space? In a holiday camp on mars? For transvestite spacemen. Where the only form of entertainment is clog dancing and watching Betamax videos of ‘Crown Court’ ….. nah, it’s been done. Everything’s been done. And where’s the drama in a trannie holiday camp on Mars? Unless I have a murder in chapter 2 and my narrator, a detective/masseur called Rex (Bex) Smith, sets out to solve it. Aided by his lovely but emotionally complex assistant, Bernie (she’s a lady that wears jumpsuits and is attempting to grow a little beard). Her and Rex have a kinda on-off sexual tension thing going on. Bla bla."

People love murder. I’m not in favour of it personally. I tend to think it’s a bad idea. Not to be encouraged.

As is blogging. Or diary keeping. Mental masturbation. Everyone does it and that’s fine, but I’m not sure I want to watch or have people watching me while I do it.

Any road. There are a lot of topics that need splurging out. I have them in a line, waiting to go like little text paratroopers.



If I don’t splurge I may never sleep. You know how it is...

So if anyone is foolish enough to read this, well, hey, that’s 4 minutes you’ll never get back, huh?

Yeah? Yeah? You say wot? Yeah, and ya mudda too. Say dat again, I say, say dat again. You give bad comments to me, I give 10 bad comments back to you. You swear at me, I come round your house n give you a big slap on the keizer. Yeah, that’s right, or on the freakin A55 (_!_) , if you prefer the British version, my friend. Huh. Not so big n commenty now, is ya?

But ha. It’s all just pissing in the wind. But, my fine and existential point is: everyone needs to piss and sometimes pissing is just the most pleasurable and necessary act possible. When you really really need to go…

And look, one day, our brains and bodies will be so addled and raddled with disease and decay that we won’t be able to piss straight. Will we? An uncomfortable thought, but something that can be turned into a carpe thingamojigger idea with the right degree of go-getting enthusiasm.

Onward, ever onward – rage against the dying of the light...

Let’s just see what the next ‘random’ post is about. Let’s just see shall we?

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