Category: Uncategorized

Ok so Sunday night saw me jet dow nto Brighton with a few mates to go see Hadouken! at Conchorde. We were on guestlist because of a convoluted friend-of-a-friend system; it was kind of like them Russian dolls but with better paybacks – and it made me feel like the innermost doll: small and insignificant, harboured away inside so many identical bellies. If cloning follows them rules that I also resent the numerous copies of me that are curling up like spare testes throughout me body.

Anyway, it was my first time to Brighton and i was kind of disappointed – now i know a sunday afternoon in february ain’t the best time to go visit Brighton, but i just assumed there would be more of an aura. The pier held its own though, haven’t been to one of those in bloody years! Me, my mate Dan, and Nick from H! eventually ended up playing those 2p machines…except ours were 10p machines and had, like, all these bonuses tacked on. We played for about 30 minutes+ off the back on £6 worth of 10p’s. Jokes.

The whole experience left me a sense of deja-vu from my youth…I’m not sure if that is the right word now that i think about it, but oh well (ED. Actually i think the whole day seemed more to subvert my youth but replaying it but making it more grown up!). This is because the last time I saw H! play was almost 3/4 years ago so that was refreshing but also odd because I was stood at the back appreciating the banging tunes rather than throwing myself into the pits with the other kids. I also had a Harry Ramsden’s Fish and Chips, which is basically like grown up/posh F+C, tasty but a soulless and vacuous corporate F+C: none of that too vinegary rubbish there. FINALLY, like i already mentioned STOOPID, is the pier penny games and if sitting there with mates and band members instead of grandparents and siblings ain’t subverting kiddy-wink memories then the fact i was splashing student loan all over 10p machines rather than 2p machines is the proverbial cloak and dagger attack on the polaroids in my brain.

I have no lights left in my bedroom as all the bulbs have now blown. It’s was depressing to watch the gradual falling apart of technology around me, stuttering and blinking like a an old man having a stroke, before promptly shitting itself and urinating all over me. Fuck you light bulb. This came after watching the film Hot Rod, well i say watch but i only lasted 49 minutes. The trailer looked good, however I thought something might be up when after 10 minutes I’d already seen everything that had already been previewed to me. It was like being shown some clips of an awesome porno only to go and watch said porno and discover that after ten minutes everything is done, clothes are back on and the couple are now sweatily sorting through their finances. Bye-Bye Sex wand.

I think I’ve been slack on here, albeit that no-one reads this other than one follower – which is me – so i’m not sure who i’m being slack towards. Damn paradoxes. If you stumble on this and want to think, then delve into this little one: Cat’s always land on their feet, toast always land buttered side down. What happens if i glue a piece of toast, butter side up, on to the back of a cat? What hits the floor first?

Last night I “DJ-ed” my SU’s election results party. Now I have a very loose concept of the verb ‘to DJ’ and in my book I feel I’ve justified it’s use if I make a mix on a laptop and burn it to an empty disc and then play it in a club. All the while I’m drinking enough so that I finally get pissed enough to believe i’m doing it live and thus entering what I’ve self-coined as my ‘mini-guetta’ phase. This involves me jumping around behind the decks and fiddling – ever so minutely – with the bass and hi-pass in a crude attempt at looking like i know what i’m SORT OF doing.

That DJ-ing thing stemmed from the fact that this week I’ve been campaigning for a friend in our student sabbatical elections. It’s been exhausting but led to heartbreak, much like any relationship I’ve formed. This is a format that I’ve followed recently: I meet a girl, I kind of fall in love (it’s an irritating character trait, apparently one of my drunk catchphrases is ‘stay away from her, i love that girl more than life itself!’) then my dickishness comes to the forefront and I ignore people, it paints me in a bad light but i promise it ain’t intentional. My sexy sexual drives means that I treat girls much like a student election: I should get to harass them until they see my point of view and then have sex with them. Surely it’s democracy if i have sex with as many people as i can? In fact i think that’s a right of any student ain’t it? This leads me to my sex conundrum: It’s going nowhere and I do it more out of boredom than anything else. Argh.

Bit of a heavy handed opening that, crikey. I’m sat typing this listening to French synth-pop, in a room where Sainsburys shopping bags cover most of the floor and furniture. It’s almost as if I’m stuck in a giant shopping bag and I’ve been picked off the simply value shelf.

Supposedly my SU is having a foam party tonight, but judging by the threadbare budget it runs on, my hopes extend no further than some of the security squirting half empty bottles of washing up liquid (own brand not branded) into the drunken masses. A half baked idea that would make that baby from the fairy liquid adverts hang its head in shame before collaborating with from the baby boss in the toilet paper adverts and launching a stinging legal case against my SU for plagiarism (he holds a monopoly on all washing up liquid products).

Come to think of it, why are so many babies used to market products that they obviously don’t use or can’t properly comprehend? No kiddy-wink i know does any washing up, or runs a toilet paper factory in which the workers casually fall into, let’s face, life threatening machinery in the search for a nap. That baby should be fired or at least be sued for the amount of rohypnol induced deaths at his factory! If evil babies interest you, you should go read this pretty banterous article over at CRACKED (american yes, but…I’ve got nothing) – http://www.cracked.com/article_18404_6-shockingly-evil-things-babies-are-capable-of.html

I’ll just sit here and ponder. I wish I had some weed and arrested development DVDS…oh wait…

Woah, I just did the biggest chunk of writing I’ve done in ages! It feels good, as if that bloke who wrote Catcher In The Rye had come and got off with me himself. Alas but that would be ghost rape; which I swear i’ve read about before. You can’t make memories like that up – either that or I’ve been imaging Casper the ghost to be Jack the ripper’s next victim.

Finally LOST is back and I was LOST without and so thankfully I’m not LOST because LOST has found its way back, albeit slightly, probably, definitely, illegally back onto my macbook screen. However I couldn’t streaming it because my bastard housemates were stealing all the bandwidth for Call of Duty, which I know think of the next big cult, kinda like a militant version of Scientology – oh wait…

On the Funnyology train of thought I was reading about John Travolta flying over to Haiti in his Jet earlier this week to give those poor people some aid. It was less the aid and more ‘I flew my own jet plane’ that interested me – note to self learn sympathy; or if you’re lazy list your top 5 feel good songs (High Fidelity style):

The Rocket Summer – Break It Out

Au Revoir Simone – Sad Song (irony makes up the majority of all good lists)

Janet Jackson – Together Again

The Rocket Summer – I’m Doing Everything For You (I know two appearances is laziness on my part)

Electric Light Orchestra – Mr Blue Sky

Jamiroquai – Stillness In Time

damn..John Cusack makes that look so effortless. Also I wrote this, read it, critique it, go fuck yourself:

Delphic – Acolyte
Delphic’s Acolyte is the first, of hopefully many, seriously impressive debut albums to grace 2010. The band, who hail from Manchester, have obviously done their homework before releasing Acolyte, drawing influence from the successes of the Madchester scene and Factory Records, hints of New Order present themselves in the form of catchy synth riffs and delicately haunting vocals across the album.

The alternative-dance scene is a notoriously hard scene to break into and this reviewer can only name one or two bands that would register on a general scale, Pendulum and The Progidy anyone? However Delphic are different. Instead of bombastic, overblown dance tracks that bring the house down there is a much more relaxed, almost continental style to the ethereal arpeggiated beats – a fact that cannot be lost in the context of the ‘Sound of 2010’ list, in which fellow nominees HURTS possess a similar quality.

Stand out tracks on the 10 song debut include lead single ‘Doubt’ whose catchy chorus echoes through the mind long after the track has finished, whilst the opening refrain of ‘A, E, A, E, A, O…’ is a touch of brilliance. Whereas ‘Halcyon’ is a much more driven track whose erratic beat will have the indie masses dancing all night long in the coming months.

…Yeah Delphic are pretty sweet.

I’m currently high and watching my friend play Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Whilst he’s doing this i’m wearing the xbox (ergh, i hate it too) headset and am screaming film cliches and obscenities to all and and sunder. I think most people have muted me.

I was sat smoking earlier and was just looking up at the clear night sky. It was beautiful – the moon was waxing and waning, wailing its beautiful silvery light on the earth. I think i saw Venus, it might have been Mars though; i couldn’t be sure.

Friday night provided me my most awkward sexual encounter yet. Me and this girl were lying naked to each other, making out, when she suddenly turns to me and says ‘I don’t think we should, I want the first time to special’ – my response? I simply sighed an aggrieved sigh. That wasn’t the worst bit. I later tried to convince her that i’t would be special and that we would connect as one and our psyches would meld’. I left at 5:30 am, unsatisfied, and making excuses about having to get ready for football.

I really am the worst type of person. Sometimes.

These solo visits to the SU are becoming far too frequent. I actually got labelled ‘lonely’ on wednesday – that was a setback. Weds was also our RAG week auction, in which i was auctioned off as a slave (of sorts); although for some reason i thought we lived in the 16th century rather the 21st and auctioned myself off to the highest bidder, for whom i would write a poem. Due to my abysmal temporal and spatial awareness this resulted in me going only for twenty quid – technically. In reality it was my drunken friends driving the bidding in the room – never a good sign -and then running away when he won. I had been been sold for twenty pounds, but in reality had been cast asunder onto a zephyr for nought but a wave goodbye. I had also been made to go topless to drive up bids…

I’m still doing this ‘500 words a day / an hour of writing a day’ thing when i can, which is less and less frequently. I’ve hit about 3k words now, but got (unfairly?!) slated in class for being rambling. PFFT. I’ve started to read more Flynn O’Briein for inspiration as well as play FF8 – i’m fusing a plot between the two: an untenable position at the best of times, however I said i’d incorporate insomnia and gypsies into it.

Go download the Tom Watts show podcast on itunes to make me smile!

Check out these tracks:
Hadouken! – Lost
The Radio Dept. – Heaven’s On Fire

dems the sick CHOOOONZ. I need new skinny jeans x

So we read Byron in class today, namely ‘Manfred’ and ‘Prometheus’, and there were pros and cons:

pros: romanticism, moustache reminiscent of Gomez Addams, all round bad man/soldier, lothario

cons: club foot, douche bag towards John Keats (who we all know is the superior poet), fugly slut.

Yeah, I’m kind of embarrassed about quoting Mean Girls in relation to Byron; there were two ideals that should never have crossed paths, one should be flying in the sky while the other should be buried ten feet underground in Plato’s cave. P’rap’s Osama will still be there, he might enjoy pre-disaster-zone-Linsay-Lohan.

Spent last night organising my life. I use this term lightly as it mainly consisted off me throwing out stupidly old food/bills/other crap. I know this is a kind of January 1st kinda ting but, well, i got bored.

I have to start planning a 40 minute presentation for Poetry as well, finel detailing all the rambling beauty i’m going to write about. I want to get some old-timey paper from the mill at Cheddar Gorge because i think the rustic look will work will; or will at least score me some brownie points.

I need to pick up the guitar again. I spent 20 minutes playing whilst drunk on saturday. I could play a passably out-of-tune intro to Oasis’ Wonderwall. Fuck.

So I have this writing schedule i’m now sticking too: an hour a day, five days a week. That’s not too bad considering i spend more time getting off a week than what i will writing.

I’ve become addicted to Hype Machine and scoping new tunes for Tuesday’s radio show; best finds so far:

Chester French – C’mon (Pance Party Remix)

Kid Cudi ft. Kanye – Make ’em Say

Popcop – Superstar

Richie Beretta – Zombie Prom Night

Go download these tracks as you’ll lap them up.

I know i’ve been a bit (read: A LOT) slack on this front recently, but i’m still juggling too many benders with half assed attempts at doing university work. If someone can tell me how perving on whited up indian women relates to English Lit theory i’ll be impressed. In the mean time i’ll lech in lectures and not feel guilty for a second, now if only i could download the powerpoint…

I’m currently stuck at home instead of traipsing across the country back to a life of informal employment by the government, by which i mean uni. It’s the fault of that bastard snow storm last night, yes I could have driven back yesterday but I said I would go to this party instead.

I ended up passed out in a leather chair at said party, kind of like a pissed up uncle or granparent, except i’m too young and promiscuous to be either of them. Sleep wouldn’t have been bad if it had been possible, instead I kept getting woken up by TiK ToK by Ke$ha (yeah I spelt it right!) because someone’s alarm kept going off.

Eventually, after trying to tell myself otherwise, I had to acknowledge that the world was in fact covered by snow. It’s not that I have anything against snow, it’s not as if it touched me inappropriately some time in the past and now we awkwardly try to avoid each other – cos that didn’t happen. It’s rather that its an incessant nuisance. I can’t go anywhere and the BBC is over-reacting as if the world were ending.

Had Germany make a snow making machine rather than fighter planes then they would easily have won WW2 and battered us in the blitz, because when it snows we go to shit.

Now I have to spend my time hiding upstairs, like Anne Frank to a degree (see there is some relevance in the post title, I’m not Fall Out Boy), except instead of nazis, or nazi zombies for you COD5 fans, I’m avoiding my family.

I miss uni where dirty bowls of week old cereal are legally allowed, in fact forced upon you. Fuck my house’s hygiene. I’ll keep you posted on escape plans.

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