Teenage Angst has paid off well...
I should stop complaining so much. The idea that complaining is going to get you something good only works when you're writing off to food manufacturers with some kind of fabricated 'lepoard paw' that you 'found' in your 'tin of baked beans'. Seriously, I've never seen Heinz spaz out so much as when I suggested they could be contaminated by 'big cats'. Otherwise, it's reasonable to think that sulking is up there with other such negative vibes and essentially unproductive and like playing a mournful tune on my own trumpet.
Metaphorically speaking, anyway.
I ordered a Death Prod on the internet today. £32.95, I think it cost, and I don't even know what it says. But, dude. Sometimes you just have to do that sort of thing. I lost my wallet yesterday as well and what with one thing and another, it's been an expensive weekend. On the plus side, I'm in St. Albans and have just had a QNI with a VHS.
Apathy is so alluring. Creativity so often comes out of boredom. Perhaps what I need to do in order to do something properly creative (ie; with an ending) is to lose all my friends so I don't have the option of going out and having fun rather than staying in and trying to work, but not in a way that I get depressed and end up churning out second rate teenage angst poetry hand over sand filled hand over fist. Maybe I need to be comfortable with my own company. I doubt it. It spins me out. I can't even sit still for an hour, I don't know how I'd expect to come to terms with my own company. It stresses me out.
Anyway, enough introspection. Let's change the subject.
Thinking someone is hot has so much more to do with almost everything else that isn't appearance. I hope that makes sense. For example, if you were jealous of someone then you certainly wouldn't say that they were hot. Or if someone was hideously dull, there's no way you could possibly think, "Dude. They're a hot slice of pie". Or equivelant expression. Or if they were really nice to you. I know it's a totally subjective thing, but you don't just look at someone and think that they're hot and click your fingers under your breath (or similar expression. God, I don't think I've ever done that. I imagine it'd be a bit like when you make chewing gum click, or when you eat salad cream and you haven't got a lower jaw). I don't really know what the heck I'm talking about actually.
I realised this ought to be something more than just me talking about what I've been doing. Because no-one wants to hear me talking about myself for a start. Well, actually, if I was actually of that opinion then I don't think I'd be having some kind of bloggue site. I'd be covering my mouth with masking tape in a great puddle of self-hatred and other such trauma. Instead the great puddle of self-hatred and other such trauma makes itself manifest in this delightful little bloggue site. By definition, I think, it's got to be a little bit self-indulgent. On the other hand, it's easier to deal with than if I was being a little bit self-indulgent in real life.
And yet the tortured monologue weaves itself on. Daniel Taylor made us a loaf of blue bread. I cycled to the house where this party was to try and find my wallet. Alas to no avail.
Anyway, I'm going to go mock the pretensious on Flickear. As Laurie Anderson once said, "it takes one to know one".
Metaphorically speaking, anyway.
I ordered a Death Prod on the internet today. £32.95, I think it cost, and I don't even know what it says. But, dude. Sometimes you just have to do that sort of thing. I lost my wallet yesterday as well and what with one thing and another, it's been an expensive weekend. On the plus side, I'm in St. Albans and have just had a QNI with a VHS.
Apathy is so alluring. Creativity so often comes out of boredom. Perhaps what I need to do in order to do something properly creative (ie; with an ending) is to lose all my friends so I don't have the option of going out and having fun rather than staying in and trying to work, but not in a way that I get depressed and end up churning out second rate teenage angst poetry hand over sand filled hand over fist. Maybe I need to be comfortable with my own company. I doubt it. It spins me out. I can't even sit still for an hour, I don't know how I'd expect to come to terms with my own company. It stresses me out.
Anyway, enough introspection. Let's change the subject.
Thinking someone is hot has so much more to do with almost everything else that isn't appearance. I hope that makes sense. For example, if you were jealous of someone then you certainly wouldn't say that they were hot. Or if someone was hideously dull, there's no way you could possibly think, "Dude. They're a hot slice of pie". Or equivelant expression. Or if they were really nice to you. I know it's a totally subjective thing, but you don't just look at someone and think that they're hot and click your fingers under your breath (or similar expression. God, I don't think I've ever done that. I imagine it'd be a bit like when you make chewing gum click, or when you eat salad cream and you haven't got a lower jaw). I don't really know what the heck I'm talking about actually.
I realised this ought to be something more than just me talking about what I've been doing. Because no-one wants to hear me talking about myself for a start. Well, actually, if I was actually of that opinion then I don't think I'd be having some kind of bloggue site. I'd be covering my mouth with masking tape in a great puddle of self-hatred and other such trauma. Instead the great puddle of self-hatred and other such trauma makes itself manifest in this delightful little bloggue site. By definition, I think, it's got to be a little bit self-indulgent. On the other hand, it's easier to deal with than if I was being a little bit self-indulgent in real life.
And yet the tortured monologue weaves itself on. Daniel Taylor made us a loaf of blue bread. I cycled to the house where this party was to try and find my wallet. Alas to no avail.
Anyway, I'm going to go mock the pretensious on Flickear. As Laurie Anderson once said, "it takes one to know one".
posted by Rufus Moonshine at 4:35 PM
3 Comments:
>>Apathy is so alluring
yes, incredibly. but the aftertaste is bitter
getting to know yourself is the hardest part
you can be creative without being a nervous wreck.
Actually chris i'm always just seeing girls and thinking wow their hot. I do that maybe 20 to 100 times day. It takes me like less the a second to deciced. i guess i'm visual then you. I couldnt care less about a persons personality. Well that is if they have great tits and a pretty face. Andy.
You're visual then me? That's one heck of a transformation.
Saying that, it did make me laugh. I think we'll be disagreeing on this until the end of time.
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