personally, i'd rather live in new zealand, where a renegade sheep that managed to evade the shearers for six years has finally had a haircut.
and they broadcast it on prime time television.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
so, i'm now back in britain. am stopping with my parents in rural east devon for a wee while, where all of the houses look like this:
(just kidding bil)
stopping with my parents, and the conversations over dinner involve things like:
dad: do you know, i couldn't believe it? driving into the short term car park at the airport - at HEATHROW airport - the sign going in said "Max Headroom 6 foot 4" (or whatever height)
mum: uh
dad: well it just makes us seem so INSULAR. even exeter council puts things in meters.
mum: well. (pauses for effect) perhaps it is because of terrorism.
(just kidding bil)
stopping with my parents, and the conversations over dinner involve things like:
dad: do you know, i couldn't believe it? driving into the short term car park at the airport - at HEATHROW airport - the sign going in said "Max Headroom 6 foot 4" (or whatever height)
mum: uh
dad: well it just makes us seem so INSULAR. even exeter council puts things in meters.
mum: well. (pauses for effect) perhaps it is because of terrorism.
Monday, April 26, 2004
anyone planning a trip out to see me should probably reconsider. but i hear that bath this time of year is lovely...
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
i was just smoking on the porch and this weirdy mafia guy (long camel overcoat, black trousers and gold rings) and his ho (peroxide blonde slutty type) (both totally abnormal for Somerville, may I just mention) were walking by.
They paused.
He said, slowly, and oldly-ly, pointing, "Ya see all these cigarette butts on the floo-ar?" His woman replied "WHAT?" rather loudly. He shrugged his shoulders. "Must just be me." Then they left.
What did I do? I ducked behind the balcony wall so that they wouldn't see me laughing.
They paused.
He said, slowly, and oldly-ly, pointing, "Ya see all these cigarette butts on the floo-ar?" His woman replied "WHAT?" rather loudly. He shrugged his shoulders. "Must just be me." Then they left.
What did I do? I ducked behind the balcony wall so that they wouldn't see me laughing.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
i forgot about this one thing that happened on friday.
i'm outside the Baseball Tavern, smoking a cigarette with Tom, who is the guy that gave chris the ticket for the ball game. he's around 32 years old and has a watch that probably cost more than God. we're both a little drunk and it's nice and warm and sunny.
as soon as we light up, an older, mid-late thirties guy comes up to bum a cigarette from Tom. He has a sunburnt, slightly peeling face, looks kinda Italian, clearly has a shitload of money, a suit, and also has a very pricey wristwatch.
"sorry, it's my last one" Tom says, showing him the empty cigarette packet. both look at me. "i literally only have two left" i say. "give him a cigarette" Tom tells me, "i going to go buy some more anyway" indicating the drugstore across the road. "get me a pack while you're over there" says the stranger, giving him $6. Tom walks away with the guy's money.
the sunburnt stranger looks at me expectantly. i give him one of my last two cigarettes. we talk. "how old do you think i am?" he asks. I guess mid to late thirties. "I'm 36" he says "my wife hates baseball." I don't remember any more of this.
then Tom returns. "There you go," he says, giving a pack to the stranger. the stranger pulls out at least 10 cigarettes from this packet and puts them into Tom's hand. "oh no" says Tom "i bought some for myself too..." "I insist" says the stranger.
"hey, by the way, you gave me too much money," says Tom. "How much were they?" asks the stranger. "They were only $5" says Tom. "Where's my other dollar then?" asks the stranger. "Well I just thought I'd keep that for myself," says Tom.
we all smoke in silence for a little while now, and i make a mental effort to remember the conversation so i can tell you about it.
i'm outside the Baseball Tavern, smoking a cigarette with Tom, who is the guy that gave chris the ticket for the ball game. he's around 32 years old and has a watch that probably cost more than God. we're both a little drunk and it's nice and warm and sunny.
as soon as we light up, an older, mid-late thirties guy comes up to bum a cigarette from Tom. He has a sunburnt, slightly peeling face, looks kinda Italian, clearly has a shitload of money, a suit, and also has a very pricey wristwatch.
"sorry, it's my last one" Tom says, showing him the empty cigarette packet. both look at me. "i literally only have two left" i say. "give him a cigarette" Tom tells me, "i going to go buy some more anyway" indicating the drugstore across the road. "get me a pack while you're over there" says the stranger, giving him $6. Tom walks away with the guy's money.
the sunburnt stranger looks at me expectantly. i give him one of my last two cigarettes. we talk. "how old do you think i am?" he asks. I guess mid to late thirties. "I'm 36" he says "my wife hates baseball." I don't remember any more of this.
then Tom returns. "There you go," he says, giving a pack to the stranger. the stranger pulls out at least 10 cigarettes from this packet and puts them into Tom's hand. "oh no" says Tom "i bought some for myself too..." "I insist" says the stranger.
"hey, by the way, you gave me too much money," says Tom. "How much were they?" asks the stranger. "They were only $5" says Tom. "Where's my other dollar then?" asks the stranger. "Well I just thought I'd keep that for myself," says Tom.
we all smoke in silence for a little while now, and i make a mental effort to remember the conversation so i can tell you about it.
Monday, April 12, 2004
friday was great. friday was really fun. bit of a blurr, but things are increasingly going that way...
got up late. put vaguely appropriate red clothing on and we went downtown to "The Baseball Tavern." this place is heaving with Red Sox fans. we almost didn't make it though, actually; we had to ask 2 cops, make a phonecall and look at a map before getting there.
anyway.
we hang out waiting for the game to start. it's so warm outside, that for once, my nicotene addiction ceases to become a chore. it also becomes a really great way to chat to people.
so we get talking to these guys, one of whom is a professional do-gooder who gives chris a ticket to the game. just gives him a ticket. chris just looks down in amazement as though he's just been struck by the hand of god. then he runs. he goes to the game. he's happy.
to be totally honest with you, all i remember from the Baseball Tavern is drinking a few beers, watching a little baseball, and talking to these guys for a little while. but, when you add it all up, we were there for seven hours. huh... i don't remember THAT. anyway. these guys were fun. and chris eventually came back. then his friend miller came over with his new ladyfriend, and one of the guys we were with made some pointed comments about asian chicks having smaller breasts than american girls and things got slightly weird. luckily, with my characteristic drunken tendencies towards violence, we managed to defend her honour.
then, we went to go to the Blonde Redhead gig, and the fucking thing was TOTALLY sold out. can you believe it? they said they'd release some tickets later, but then changed their minds. i don't know. i think we were just too drunk to get in. anyway...
chris was very sweet - hassling people in the queue to sell a ticket to me so i would get to go. ah well. will just have to turn the CDs up very loud and flick the lights on and off downstairs...
so i suggested we go to the stripclub in chinatown to make up for it. we go to an irish bar first (that one that i said smelt really clean, walker, with the black and white flooring). but mark left us at this point. he was, well, we were all drunk, but he was, oh well. he had an interesting cab ride home i think. it was also around this time chris and i decided that getting some food would be a good idea, so we went into some random corner store and bought an assortment of junk food.
so we try to go the stripclub that's meant to be good but miller's not wearing a shirt with a tie so we have to go in to The Glass Slipper instead. it's horrible. the girls are horrible. one girl does kind of a neat thing where she gripped the pole with her thighs after having leapt up about a meter and a half to it but, as miller said, you kinda expect that from a stripclub. the other girls were awful. i think we saw three. oh well...
after we left, chris suggested we go home. i agreed. i practically slept all the way back on the T then made us get a cab between the Davis square T and home (it's only a 10 minute walk, tops) because I was so drunk tired and well that's it.
it's weird. chris went to the game while we were in some bar talking to strange men, we didn't get into blonde redhead, plus the stripclub was utter shite. and yet it was a fantastic and marvellous day.
okay you're right. sorry. i blame it on blogging when i've got my period (which, in the interests of sharing, while we're here, is not entirely unlike having an army of evil pixies inside your stomach trying to claw their way out with three-pronged pointy gardening tools, ripping and tearing strips and chunks of womb lining out and stomping on them til they get hauled out of your body - the good months are the months where i don't pass out in a cold sweat on the bathroom floor).
fuck it. so. i am most certainly here for the limited time of the next three and a half months only, so i may as well keep going with this nonsense in the meantime. i took the photo above on my way into work today just as a token offering. i'll take better photos tomorrow.
last night i saw john walker. for those of you who don't know, john walker is (aside from being a robot) one of my best friends from Bath. i'm not going to launch into a character description or anything - i'm just giving you context. anyway, he was on a press trip over to washington, baltimore and boston - entirely randomly. so i met him after work downtown. we wandered around, went to a couple of bars (but the fool forgot his passport - sheesh - should have warned him. you get IDed everywhere here - or at least i do, and so does walker as he has bright pink hair i guess...)
it was entirely normal for john to be here. it was rather odd because it wasn't at all odd. we wandered round the North End, the "little italy" district. i love it up there - there are REAL italians and EVERYTHING! anyway, then we hit an irish bar via a 7-eleven to look for sweeties. so anyway. what do i want to say? i felt like this was my town, and it was nice to be able to wander around it and show it to someone (even though i took a couple of wrong roads here and there) - so far, you see, other people have just been showing it to me. still, seeing one friend just made me miss others more. and although it's all good out here, it will be nice to see people again.
long weekend this weekend. that will be nice. i have a whole bunch of sleeping to catch up on.
on an unrelated note, my friend alyna and me found a bar where YOU CAN SMOKE INDOORS on wednesday! we are never drinking anywhere else again. needless to say it's an irish bar with REAL irishmen... i just have one favour to ask of you - PLEASE don't let them make england non-smoking before i get back. if i can't smoke in Moles, how else am i going to display my sultry boredom?
i know it's just putting off the inevitable, but please - don't let them do it just yet. i just need one last cigarette in Moles before they take away my right to give you cancer...
got up late. put vaguely appropriate red clothing on and we went downtown to "The Baseball Tavern." this place is heaving with Red Sox fans. we almost didn't make it though, actually; we had to ask 2 cops, make a phonecall and look at a map before getting there.
anyway.
we hang out waiting for the game to start. it's so warm outside, that for once, my nicotene addiction ceases to become a chore. it also becomes a really great way to chat to people.
so we get talking to these guys, one of whom is a professional do-gooder who gives chris a ticket to the game. just gives him a ticket. chris just looks down in amazement as though he's just been struck by the hand of god. then he runs. he goes to the game. he's happy.
to be totally honest with you, all i remember from the Baseball Tavern is drinking a few beers, watching a little baseball, and talking to these guys for a little while. but, when you add it all up, we were there for seven hours. huh... i don't remember THAT. anyway. these guys were fun. and chris eventually came back. then his friend miller came over with his new ladyfriend, and one of the guys we were with made some pointed comments about asian chicks having smaller breasts than american girls and things got slightly weird. luckily, with my characteristic drunken tendencies towards violence, we managed to defend her honour.
then, we went to go to the Blonde Redhead gig, and the fucking thing was TOTALLY sold out. can you believe it? they said they'd release some tickets later, but then changed their minds. i don't know. i think we were just too drunk to get in. anyway...
chris was very sweet - hassling people in the queue to sell a ticket to me so i would get to go. ah well. will just have to turn the CDs up very loud and flick the lights on and off downstairs...
so i suggested we go to the stripclub in chinatown to make up for it. we go to an irish bar first (that one that i said smelt really clean, walker, with the black and white flooring). but mark left us at this point. he was, well, we were all drunk, but he was, oh well. he had an interesting cab ride home i think. it was also around this time chris and i decided that getting some food would be a good idea, so we went into some random corner store and bought an assortment of junk food.
so we try to go the stripclub that's meant to be good but miller's not wearing a shirt with a tie so we have to go in to The Glass Slipper instead. it's horrible. the girls are horrible. one girl does kind of a neat thing where she gripped the pole with her thighs after having leapt up about a meter and a half to it but, as miller said, you kinda expect that from a stripclub. the other girls were awful. i think we saw three. oh well...
after we left, chris suggested we go home. i agreed. i practically slept all the way back on the T then made us get a cab between the Davis square T and home (it's only a 10 minute walk, tops) because I was so drunk tired and well that's it.
it's weird. chris went to the game while we were in some bar talking to strange men, we didn't get into blonde redhead, plus the stripclub was utter shite. and yet it was a fantastic and marvellous day.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
okay you're right. sorry. i blame it on blogging when i've got my period (which, in the interests of sharing, while we're here, is not entirely unlike having an army of evil pixies inside your stomach trying to claw their way out with three-pronged pointy gardening tools, ripping and tearing strips and chunks of womb lining out and stomping on them til they get hauled out of your body - the good months are the months where i don't pass out in a cold sweat on the bathroom floor).
fuck it. so. i am most certainly here for the limited time of the next three and a half months only, so i may as well keep going with this nonsense in the meantime. i took the photo above on my way into work today just as a token offering. i'll take better photos tomorrow.
last night i saw john walker. for those of you who don't know, john walker is (aside from being a robot) one of my best friends from Bath. i'm not going to launch into a character description or anything - i'm just giving you context. anyway, he was on a press trip over to washington, baltimore and boston - entirely randomly. so i met him after work downtown. we wandered around, went to a couple of bars (but the fool forgot his passport - sheesh - should have warned him. you get IDed everywhere here - or at least i do, and so does walker as he has bright pink hair i guess...)
it was entirely normal for john to be here. it was rather odd because it wasn't at all odd. we wandered round the North End, the "little italy" district. i love it up there - there are REAL italians and EVERYTHING! anyway, then we hit an irish bar via a 7-eleven to look for sweeties. so anyway. what do i want to say? i felt like this was my town, and it was nice to be able to wander around it and show it to someone (even though i took a couple of wrong roads here and there) - so far, you see, other people have just been showing it to me. still, seeing one friend just made me miss others more. and although it's all good out here, it will be nice to see people again.
long weekend this weekend. that will be nice. i have a whole bunch of sleeping to catch up on.
on an unrelated note, my friend alyna and me found a bar where YOU CAN SMOKE INDOORS on wednesday! we are never drinking anywhere else again. needless to say it's an irish bar with REAL irishmen... i just have one favour to ask of you - PLEASE don't let them make england non-smoking before i get back. if i can't smoke in Moles, how else am i going to display my sultry boredom?
i know it's just putting off the inevitable, but please - don't let them do it just yet. i just need one last cigarette in Moles before they take away my right to give you cancer...
Monday, April 05, 2004
i’m not sure about this blog — i don’t think i want to play anymore.
it feels a bit stupid writing about my ludicrous little observations or random thoughts – i mean, it’s just my life. i started this up for novelty value i guess, and in an attempt to not lose touch with you or something – but i realise, of course, that in the meantime i have no real idea about what you’re doing. so, now i’m a bit more settled into my life, this blog feels a bit labored, and even more “one-way” than i figured it would. i don’t want to end up unconscious on the kitchen floor because i’ve been narrating my own life too much. and i also don’t want to tell you stuff like “oh – last night i helped move the empty bottles from the coffee table into the recycling bin...”
i could do a gillenesque sharing of all my new poems and projects, but that seems kinda pointless when you can look for them elsewhere on the net anyway – namely The Dylan Thomas Project , where you can furrow around under the shed for a showcase, and Big Robot until october which will update every couple of weeks. there’s a lot of good stuff by other people up on Big Robot, and i highly recommend it if you haven’t already had a look.
anyway, think i’m going to revert to good old e-mail for a while (and i’m on msn messenger if you have a hotmail account – always entertaining...). i’ll tell you about the good stuff - probably something next week about Blonde Redhead and the Red Sox... um. certainly i’ll let you know if i get back in from canada okay mid-april, and i’ll show you the odd photo here and there, but otherwise i think i’ll just leave you with my dreams. i’ve been keeping them for a while and i don’t edit them. if your morning is feeling too real, then feel free to indulge in my most narcissistic endeavour. (who the fuck cares what i dream?) well, anyway...
it feels a bit stupid writing about my ludicrous little observations or random thoughts – i mean, it’s just my life. i started this up for novelty value i guess, and in an attempt to not lose touch with you or something – but i realise, of course, that in the meantime i have no real idea about what you’re doing. so, now i’m a bit more settled into my life, this blog feels a bit labored, and even more “one-way” than i figured it would. i don’t want to end up unconscious on the kitchen floor because i’ve been narrating my own life too much. and i also don’t want to tell you stuff like “oh – last night i helped move the empty bottles from the coffee table into the recycling bin...”
i could do a gillenesque sharing of all my new poems and projects, but that seems kinda pointless when you can look for them elsewhere on the net anyway – namely The Dylan Thomas Project , where you can furrow around under the shed for a showcase, and Big Robot until october which will update every couple of weeks. there’s a lot of good stuff by other people up on Big Robot, and i highly recommend it if you haven’t already had a look.
anyway, think i’m going to revert to good old e-mail for a while (and i’m on msn messenger if you have a hotmail account – always entertaining...). i’ll tell you about the good stuff - probably something next week about Blonde Redhead and the Red Sox... um. certainly i’ll let you know if i get back in from canada okay mid-april, and i’ll show you the odd photo here and there, but otherwise i think i’ll just leave you with my dreams. i’ve been keeping them for a while and i don’t edit them. if your morning is feeling too real, then feel free to indulge in my most narcissistic endeavour. (who the fuck cares what i dream?) well, anyway...
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