In other news...

I've decided to carry a notebook around with me. It'll be practical, because till now I've lost lots of ideas through not writing them down. Now with my new-found control over my own life I'm going to make it stop.

Sick joke / test

Please try to comment on this as honestly and with as little bias as you can. Due to my not wanting to upsetanyone or risk getting the wrong idea across (this is delicate, nobody should be expected to have a sense of humour about it), I have to put this little note in. You have been warned. Now, proceed: how would you react were I to say the following:

Fuck. Not good. My Dad just died.
I've lost all point of reference.
Nothing makes sense any more.
Help!

Last night was pretty dark...

|\/|ince pies!

Originally, mince meat was actually meat.

But then with the prospering of the colonies, people started including fruit.

When meat became too expensive, all people could afford ws fruit.

That is why mince meat is, in fact, fruit.

Have A Cigar

"Yes, the band is great that is truly what I think.
And by the way, which one's Pink?"

See You On The Other Side

For over a decade, KoRn have been making most excellent music: neurotic noise for angst-ridden teens.

In typical rock-band style, their first guitarist has left them to go and be a vehement evangelical Christian, but did you really think that would stop them? Of course not.

The first single off their new album, out on the 5th December (can't wait!) , totally rocks, and is called Twisted Transistor.

Done Thing?

Does It Do*?

*not Do Something or Anything, just Do(es). It?

This morning I sent two identical friendly txtsms to two girls. Is that wrong? I feel my life is going so well I can "get away" with that kind of thing. I think they can proably work out who they are, although each other's identity might take a little longer. Am I being incredibly selfish with my good feelings? I mean no harm at all, I'm just after a good time. Honest. Got a pair of interesting replies.

In fact I also sent a second txtsms to two girls, also identical, although that's just a coincidence. That was practical, and definitely not dubious.

Deep

Last night trying to get to sleep I got A LOT of ideas for articles to post today. I'll try to write them all this afternoon, but with the build-up of older things to finish, I doubt if I'll manage. I'm aiming to have them all up within a week.

I'm about to go have lunch, bacon for the first time in over a month. I very much intend to enjoy it.
Then I'm going to watch a film, and after that I'll come back and actually make a start on these posts. Somewhere along the line I hope to get some school work done, but I have a feeling that there may not be enough time for all that.

To be continued...

WebLog

Und danach?

JETZT, ABER?! ABER JETZT!...?

#

@

Apples to everyone

BLACK FLAG!

RADNOM
RAMMED ON
NUMBER AD

Appeals to everyone

Please leave your comments. Even if it's just your name, so I know you've been. Thank you.

Applies to everyone

with all the stuff I've written recently, I think it might be necessary to put in this little note about SCROLL DOWN A LOT, for the sake of continuity. I rarely finish posts on the same day |I| start them, so there's a fairly good chance you've missed something.

I'm great.

Horizons are opening and it feels fantastic.
Even if I get things wrong it won't matter, because nothing I do is important. That's a good thing.

Happy.

Lucky.
I feel like I'm floating. My feet don't touch the ground, but I stay down to earth all the same. Who could possibly waant to leave?

I understand.

Some situations are different, desolate, destitute. But not for me. I'm out of the woods,

And I can go off into the fields now and play. I think I probably deserve it.

• "I have nothing to declare except my genius." ~ Oscar Wilde, New York customs, 1892 (?)

Nothing else matters. Devotion. Couldn't be simpler. I've woken up.

Improvise, and everything'll be fine.

That's how it works.

Dear Dire Dreary Diary

From now on, there has been a change. Hope you've noticed.

Tick.

St. }} (s)AINT <<>
(stained with paint.)
sorry.#

stick.
est ick.
kick.

Nick.

WHAT?!

EXPLANATION:

I've been spontaneously told that my blog was getting a bit weird.
I asked around (well, one other person) and that opinion was confirmed.
Not enough fun.
And then someone else told me I was slipping into "sinister".
Despite feeling so great. This would not do.

Thus it came to pass that
I decided to get off my ass
I would do something about it and remedy the problem.

Notice.

These pictures are just what you get if you look up "evil angel" on Google.

I reckon that if you combine "evil" and "angel" you get "evangelical".

Please don't take this stuff the rong way, as I said I just happened to notice the quirk of the language. This is not meant to be any kind of dark pseudo-psychotic attempt at cpoonvincing anyone of the perfectness of Death or anything sad like that. I just happened to think of it. Plus I'm trying to use more pictures nowadays. I merely took the best-looking ones of the search.

EVIL ]X[ ANGEL

What is your vile angle?

System Of A Down

"So I felt like the biggest asshole
When I killed the ol' rock and roll!"

Someone should start a band called System Of A Pound, just so the frenchies would call them SOAP.

Chop Suey!

Wake up,
Grab a brush and put a little (makeup),
Grab a brush and put a little,
Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)
Hide the scars to fade away the,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable

You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup,
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup,
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table,
You wanted to,

I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die, Die,

Wake up,
Grab a brush and put a little (makeup),
Grab a brush and put a little,
Hide the scars to fade away the (shakeup)
Hide the scars to fade away the,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table?
Here you go create another fable

You wanted to,
Grab a brush and put a little makeup,
You wanted to,
Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup,
You wanted to,
Why'd you leave the keys upon the table,
You wanted to,

I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die
In my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die

Father, Father, Father, Father,
Father/ Into your hands/I/commend my spirit,
Father, into your hands,

Why have you forsaken me,
In your eyes forsaken me,
In your thoughts forsaken me,
In your heart forsaken, me oh,

Trust in my self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die,
In my self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die.

I'm just sitting in my car and waiting for my girl...

I think System Of A Down technically count as my official Favourite Band, because I own all their albums, and paid for them all myself. There are five, plus the bonus DVD I got with Hypnotise, which totally blows anything else you've ever heard completely away to the middle of last week by the way, which is the most albums by the same band that I have that aren't my Dad's.

There's only one true path in life; the road that leads to a heart.

The Meeting

From the minute he saw her, he knew. There was almost an audible click in his ear. He knew. What exactly it was he knew, he couldn't yet tell. Well, can you blame him? Of course not. This is purity; uncontrolled, unpredictable, unrestrained emotions overwhelming his entire attention.

He had to approach her. The moment was designed that way. It seemed to have been written out before him, like a predetermined destiny, unknowable, yet unchangeable. That particular piece of amber was that particular piece of amber. Nothing else.

No way was he going to play football. It didn't fit. No way. He was fixed. Nothing he could do about. Not that he would have wanted to. It was too perfect.

He could feel the warm afternoon sun leaning on him, as if trying to gently nudge him into the pool, where the water could take over. In that instant, he became the second sunshine.
None of this was known to him at the time, of course. Why would it? Even now no-one can truly know the full scale of what was going on inside him. Naturally it has happened before, that is the nature of these things. But again there was no knowledge on his part. He was far too young, and unprepared. No-one had ever told him. They probably hsould have, though, but so it goes.
So it goes.

He was lucky. He overheard some of his own language. That would help. He yearned for his native tongue, after what in all other respects had been the best week of his life, and the thought of it continuing with the possibility of less concentration and more fluency and ease filled him with courage. That would not turn out to be necessary, however. Again lucky, after a while of his usual tactical lurking and hiding in plain sight, not getting himself noticed unless he knew he wanted it (Over the years, he had become good at turning invisible and staying out of the way.), it was she who approached him.

This came as quite a suprise to him. Not that he didn't want her to.

Once more it was too perfect. He couldn't have prescripted it better. It was so exactly what he was after that he had ruled it out from probability altogether.

From there, he was in his element. He had the upper hand. Not that he needed it. He had a knack for conversation-starting, and it went easily, despite the slight feeling of nerves in his stomach. He could just ignore that. Another thing he was used to, ignoring pain.

It was the dawning of a new phase for him. The best phase.

Not knowing simply didn't matter any more. He didn't need to know. He would go on to almost get it all badly wrong, but the determination of the love he was now fuelled with pulled through, and he got it right in the end.

Muse - Unintended

Sitting on the basement floor,
Leaning against the (wine) cellar door...

The first time I ever heard this song was when Natalie played it to me one night when she visited me during the summer. It was amazing. Tuned the guitar by ear and everything. Lying on the floor in the drums room. I wonder how much of it got through to my parents via the airvents. Not that I cared about that at the time. It was quite wonderful.

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You could be the one I'll always love

You could be the one who listens
To my deepest inquisitions
You could be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken
Pieces of the life I had before

First there was the one who challenged
All my dreams and all my balance
She could never be as good as you

You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I'll always love

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken
Pieces of the life I had before

I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken
Pieces of the life I had before
Before you

Old poem

Was browsing through the archives of my various work, and found this.
I reckon it's not too bad, considering I wrote it 2 years ago:

Staline n'était pas un bon communiste.

On passe trop de temps,

Avec des inutilités.

On parle trop,

Rien n'est fait. Jamais.

Tout tourne autour de mensonges,

Qui mon plaisir rongent.

C'est irréparable.

"C'est la vie"

C'est minable,

Et ce ne sera pas fini.

Les interdictions,

Les bénédictions,

Rien n'est logique,

Mais personne ne critique.

Un énorme complot:

Nous sommes tous sots.

Aveugles, endormis, passifs.

Est-ce naturel d'être aussi naïf?

La mort, la vie,

Sont-elles suffisantes?

C'est pour ça que je crie:

"Ecoutez quand je chante!"

Engouffrés dans la pénombre,

Nous avons les nombres,

Pour sortir de cette cage

Mettre une fin à cet age.

Tout défaire, puis ne rien refaire.

Les clichés,

Les moutons,

Il faut tout brûler,

Pour ne plus jamais dire

"Broutons."

Je ne fais pas qu'écrire,

Et il faut faire plus que lire.

Entreprendre, aider.

Ne pas tout laisser aux dés!

I remember the teacher reading out in front of the class,
that was nice.

The Rich Man

Somehow, I think I’m going home

Even though my friends can’t reach me

I don’t know how I ended up alone

All I know is you can’t save me

They only asked us to believe

They only wanted us to follow

I think I’m old enough to see

I think I’m going home tomorrow

I, be,lieve, in…

Sinners and hypocrites
Burning in the desert for a rich man
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Liars and lunatics
Lead us to the slaughter for our last stand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killers and idiots
Dying in the desert for a rich man
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sinners and hypocrites
Gather us together for the master plan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t bother with my faith

How will my family recognize it?

Somehow, I think I’m going home

But I still can’t comprehend it

I know I don’t want to die

But I know dying will not end it

I, be,lieve, in…

Sinners and hypocrites
Burning in the desert for a rich man
===========================

Liars and lunatics
Lead us to the slaughter for our last stand
===============================

Killers and idiots
Dying in the desert for a rich man
=========================

Sinners and hypocrites
Gather us together for the bastards
===========================

I know the truth is all a lie - my skin is cracking on my lips

I don’t pretend that I can understand why we are doing this

My heart has bled a thousand times - how will I live with what we’ve done?

The only comfort is the knowledge that I’m not the only one

Why am I here?
What did I do?
Why?

Beastie Boys!

YOU GOTTA FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT TO


PARTY!

(KICK IT!)

You wake up late for school - man you don't wanna go

You ask you mom, "Please?" - but she still says, "No!"

You missed two classes - and no homework

But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk

(chorus) You gotta fight for your right to party

You pop caught you smoking - and he said, "No way!"

That hypocrite - smokes two packs a day

Man, living at home is such a drag

Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Bust it!)

(repeat chorus)

"Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear"

"I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair"

Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"

Aw, mom you're just jealous - it's the Beastie Boys!

Sofa\ Bort } <3

This chick

ROX MY SOX

Lovin' the red, gurl. You knows who I'm gonna come visit if I get myself anywhere near

Torontotown hunn.

Percy

<< Beshrew me, Sir, you're in good fooling this morning! >>

"Tush."

Hey Nonney-Nonney, m'Lord, congratulations!

Tora! Life!

Even though I'm allergic (slightly physically intolerant is more accurate) to cats,

and usually can't stand animals,

^^Alain's kitty kat.^^

This is just a pic of the song sayerer from
Alien Ant Farm, just forthe heck of it.

this one is different. Maybe it was just the frame of mind I was developing at the time (see the Moment of clarity post), but in any case I definitely noticed some interesting (awful word, but I mean it as well as I can) things about animals, and life in general.

When I arrived at Al's on Saturday and they told me they had a new cat I thought, "Oh great, sneezing and sore throat- as if I don't already have enough wrong with me at the moment. This is the last bloody thing I need."

As the afternoon went on though, she seemed to be having enough fun running around the house, minding her own business as we played Halo II (which I'm getting pretty good at) on the xbox (Still can't get used to the size of the controller though, it's just so massive!).

I didn't notice my allergies, either, because she stayed pretty much away the whole time, which was good. I don't think it would have been a problem otherwise, though, because I think my body was too busy with everything else to be bothered about it.

"Tora" is the japanese word for "tiger", apparently.
Because the orange and black pattern on her back does sort of look tigerish.
They adopted her recently, because they found her in their garden with no tags or anything.

Saturday evening she tried to sleep in my bed on Al's bedroom floor, because she usually does. We had to put her out in the hall for the night, because surely a tired, ill human counts for more than a simple pesky cat, right? (Answer: yes.) I'm glad she hasn't learnt to open doors yet, though, otherwise it would have eneded up worse than with Daffy at Nat's house.

Sunday morning was when I changed my perspective. Climbing around on Al's bed, trying to sneak under the covers with me, and generally being around made me see Tora in a whole new light. I recognised her as a living thing. Seeing her lie down, hearing her breath, feeling her clawing at the sheets, it felt really special. Being able to foresee when she hop down from or up to the bed, ad then the satisfaction when it happened. I'd never looked at an animal like that before. Part of my huge reality check I guess. I love it.

Concert

Last Sunday L'Ochestre Symphonique des Jeunes de Strasbourg played in Wangenbourg, which is a little touristy skiiing village way out near a few other small villages, where nothing much happens. It was awesome. Thought I'd mention it. Oh and a mention of Anne-Sophie, a.k.a. Nobody, whom I successfully converted from Utopian Anarchist to Don'tGiveAFuck-ist, who plays violin for the aforementioned orchestra. Here's a picture of her looking quite bizarre, which wasn't meant to make it's way onto my computer, but that'll just teach her to pay more attention. (A-S: I told you I would!)

This is her blog, which is actually pretty good if you read it properly:

http://personne666.skyblog.com

And a better picture, very nice.

Nat:

"(Alors voila, comme promis,
Sans trop de compromis.
Ni de rimes à la con. Promis.)"

The snail has rex.

Je t'attends depuis toujours.

Je t'attendrais toujours.
Je t'attends toujours.

Rex has the snail.

I LOVE KOOKY!


No need for this any more either:

No longer the Retriever. Cool! And I thank you for it, which means what it has to./,;
because
I made it and if it doesn't I'm gonna get medieval on it's ass.



And this is a picture of her looking very pretty indeed (as always) in that swimming pool.

A moment of clarity.

I was eating my muffin on Sunday, in the car on the home.
Pretty creepy.

"Yeah, I was just sitting here,
eating my muffin and I had what alcoholics
refer to as a 'moment of clarity'."

Let me clarify my clarity a bit, because it's not a terribly simpleeasy conceptidea..


Two weeks is a long time for thought.

Alone in your room for so long, with really nothing else to do. Reading as much as I did, inevitably leads to writing a lot down as well. And after a while, my perceptions of things have started to peel awaay from in front of my eyes. I really feel I can see now. All I can trace it to is the drugs messing up my sleep, but I don't mind. It feels great. I've got a permanent buzz. It only ever wears off for a few seconds at a time, when I blink and completely zap out, but then in an instant I'm back and fresh as a piece of meat what's not entirely dead yet.

It's as if someone has come and taken off the pair of filter glasses that have been editing what I see for the last few years. There was another semi-audible click. It was that kind of moment. Now I can sit next to the aquarium and stare at the fish without getting bored after 30 seconds. Can't wait till the fireworks on New Year's Eve. That's going to be really great. Like when we made that campfire at Al's cabin in Algonquin Park. Awesome captivation. Just staring. I also now feel a lot more helpful with my parents. Which can only iprove communication.

Thus it is revealed...

If you're fine, fine, fine, I'm sick, sick, sick!

(See what He did with the clever Slipknot lyric subtly parodied to fit the situation?
He's ever so good at those slight puns.
For those of you don't know The Heretic Anthem,
the line goes "If you're 555 then I'm 666.")

This whole episode started way back on the 20th of October, which was over a month ago now. It was a thursday, I remember because I had a 3-hour lunch break. That's when my headache started.

That evening I was faced with the standard energy-crash dilemma:

SCENARIO A:

I do all my homework, staying up much too late, getting much too tired and winding up much too ill for school the next day. Waste of time. Here, the question is:

"Is the satisfaction of knowing you've done good by your homework and can be proud of the achievement worth the physical exhaustion the next day?"


SCENARIO B:

I do none of my homework, getting plenty of sleep, and turning up for school healthy and apologetic. No homework though. Here, the question is:
"Is feeling good physically and turning up for class worth the negative guilt imposed by the disapproving teachers?"

I ended up with a kind of "6 of one, 1/2-a-dozen of the other situation":
I did do some work, but realised there was no way I could go to school the next day, I could just tell.

Sure enough, I had to stay at home on Friday and Saturday and Sunday, pumped full of headache pills and stomach-blockers.

By Monday I was feeling quite better. Not 100% yet, but well enough to go to driving school. That went on till Friday, and I got completely better. Had badly-timed growing pains in my legs, which didn't help with the stiff clutch they had on their Clios, but I just put up with it.

Gave myself Saturday off to recuperate.
I was completely cream-crackered after the 40 hours in cars anyway.
My first proper day of holidays, I deserved a break.

Sunday we had company round for lunch, which lasted well into the afternoon. I got a bit of reading done, but no proper work. I still had half a week, it would be plenty for catching up on the one-and-a-half days I had missed.

Monday lunchtime, and it was back to square one. I simply couldn't eat. This carried on through Tuesday, so on Wednesday we went to see the doctor. I was due for an MMR booster anyway. He said it was just a virus, take the mega painkillers and it should be gone by the weekend.

Which would have been fine. I'm usually on good enough terms with my teachers to get away with a stunt like that, they'd understand. Plus parental note overrides everything in these situations. I'd cope. No problem.

Thursday.

Yuck. Still not better. Not eating, and this time I was throwing up, too! Water-vomit is orange, in case you were wondering. And it hurts. Because it has to come from a long way down. Not fun.

That night was the worst night of my life.

I hate remembering it. I was genuinely afraid.
Feeling like you're falling, even though you just have, is the weirdest feeling I know. It creeps me out. This time it was worse though. I'm perfectly used to almost falling over in the middle of the night in the toilet because I didn't have enough for supper. That happens all the time. Sometimes, if I'm having thrill issues, I can even convince mysel it's fun. Like a game. Aim for the bed or you lose. But this was different. I was already in bed. There was nowhere lower to fall. And I don't mean that metaphorically.

The only thing I can compare it to, and I don't know how useful this will be, because I don't know if anyone else has experienced this the same way as I have, is what I used to feel like when I went to sleep when I was quite a bit younger.
I could see myself in my bed, from above, spinning slowly, and fading, going down. Not down anywhere in particular, or towards anything real, just down. Generally into darkness. It was sort of a transition between awake and asleep. My way of knowing that I was definitely on the way to Dreamland now, just a few more seconds of keeping my eyes shut and -
That always reassured me. I felt in control, knowing that I could always just cancel the whole operation, by opening my eyes. Simple.

This was different. It was all faster. I got worried, because it happened in spells which were longer, and seemed even more so. I felt no power over my own situation. Nervous about the guarantee of still being conscious in a few seconds time, I shouted; partly to get my Dad to come and hold my hand, and partly to remind myself what sound was like, and to check I was still here. I wasn't though. Not really. Mentally, I was a mess.

Talk about tempting fate. Thursday evening, before I went to bed got really bad, I had tried eating some toast, and Dad had looked over and said how terrible I looked, that he was beginnning to get a bit concerned, and that he was wondering wether I shouldn't be in hospital on a drip or something.

By Friday lunchtime, after more vomit, I was.

For the sake of my good mood and getting this damn post up at last (it's now Thursday 1st December), I won't go over the entire story of my hospital experience. I wasn't myself, I got very bored, they did lots of tests, it took them a long time to work out what I had. More on exactly what that is later.

However, at least one (in fact I can think of at least 2) positive thing(s) came from it:

I got lots of visits, and I'd like to thank the following people for making this troublesome experience as agreeable as possible with their visits and chat (and especially letting me use their houses!)

(There's no real order to this, except if you count that in which I remember them. Also, anyone who gave me half a thought counts as well, but you can't be mentioned, because I'm not telepathic.):

Saz, Tammy, Tash, Tess, Sash, Amy, Clémence, Jane Early, Maggie O'Boyle, Mum, Dad, Joanna, Alain, Phil, Nancy, Cara, Emily, Jo, C&C, and anyone else I might have forgotten (hope you understand, I mean, if you were there, you saw the state I was in!) .

Completely besides the point here, but notice how most of the people in that list are girls???
What (if anything) does that say?

Prty Knife

God's Final Message to His Creation:

"We apologise for the inconvenience."

"I think I feel good about that."
said Marvin.

The lights went out in his eyes for absolutely the very last time ever.

Luckily, there was a stall nearby where you could rent scooters from guys with green wings.

Douglas Adams.

I'm Eighteen

Lines form on my face and my hands
Lines form from the ups and downs
I'm in the middle without any plans
I'm a boy and I'm a man


I'm eighteen!
And I don't know what I want,
Eighteen!
I just don't know what I want,
Eighteen!
I gotta get away!
I gotta get out of this place!
I'll go runnin' in outer space, oh yeah.


I got a baby's brain and an old man's heart;
Took eighteen years to get this far.
Don't always know what I'm talkin' about;
Feels like I'm livin' in the middle of doubt.


'cause I'm eighteen!
I get confused every day,
Eighteen I just don't know what to say
Eighteen I gotta get away


Whoa lines form on my face and my hands
Lines form on the left and right
I'm in the middle, the middle of life
I'm a boy and I'm a man
I'm eighteen and I like it!
Yes I like it,
Oh I like it; love it; like it; love it:
Eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, eighteen, and I like it!

Alice Cooper (Love It To Death), 1971.

Tom Lehrer

Tom Lehrer was this comedy singer back in the '60s, but a lot of his stuff still applies nowadays. Just check this one out for starters:

Pollution

Time was when an American about to go abroad would be warned by his friends or the guidebooks not to drink the water. But times have changed, and now a foreigner coming to this country might be offered the following advice:

If you visit American city,
You will find it very pretty.
Just two things of which you must beware:
Don't drink the water and don't breathe the air!

Pollution, pollution!
They got smog and sewage and mud.
Turn on your tap
And get hot and cold running crud!

See the halibuts and the sturgeons
Being wiped out by detergeons.
Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly,
But they don't last long if they try.

Pollution, pollution!
You can use the latest toothpaste,
And then rinse your mouth
With industrial waste.

Just go out for a breath of air
And you'll be ready for Medicare.
The city streets are really quite a thrill -
If the hoods don't get you, the monoxide will.

Pollution, pollution!
Wear a gas mask and a veil.
Then you can breathe,
Long as you don't inhale!

Lots of things there that you can drink,
But stay away from the kitchen sink!
The breakfast garbage that you throw into the Bay
They drink at lunch in San Jose.

So go to the city,
See the crazy people there.
Like lambs to the slaughter,
They're drinking the water
And breathing [cough] the air!

Found a great site with all his lyrics and even some MIDI tunes to boot so you get the gist of it.

The Cure

(it used to be so Easy
/"Boys Don't Cry")

10:15 Saturday Night.

10:15, saturday night
And the tap drips under the strip light.
And I'm sitting in the kitchen sink;
And the tap drips:

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip

Waiting for the telephone to ring

And I'm wondering
Where she's been

And I'm crying

For yesterday

And the tap drips:

Drip, drip drip

drip Drip, drip drip drip Drip, drip drip

drip Drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip drip

drip drip drip

drip drip

drip.

It's always the same...

Bounce!

Now, this one's going out (albeit late) specially for Mr. Mustard the Sacksquasher-sasquatch-sashquash (sat on a watch).

Rock and/or Roll
terminology 101.

Now, get this right, because I'm only going to say it once. Pay attention! Especially anybody.

All too often I come across ignorant fools (well this is France, after all) going on about how great the pogo at their last metal concert was. This is just plain WRONG. Metal concerts are not designed for pogo, and that's not what happens at them. At least, that's not what it's called.

(DISCLAIMER: I am well aware of how perfectionist and pedantic this next bit will sound, but after all, Sash did ask, so it's his fault (and Lauren's, of course, can't forget her ;p), and besides, a pedant is just someone who wants his opinions to the Truth. Maybe more on that later.)

The form of dancing known as pogo-dancing originated in small London pubs at the end of the 1970's, at the time of the emergence of punk into society (I like Johnathan Ross's way of putting it with the comparison to the sci-fi B movie with the alien worms that get into your head and leave later and you think "phew, that was close" but then the eggs (oh yeah) hatch and you end up with a head full of worms.), where gigs would attract 150 people (plus the band in the corner with next to no space) into the basements designed to hold 50 or so. As you can imagine, this caused something of a problem when it came to moving around sideways, as had been the style of dancing up until then. The only solution to release all the energy you got from your speed was to jump up and down and trust your luck that your feet might touch the groundat some point later. Because all this was going on underground in a big city, though, the ceilings were never terribly high, so you kept coming down a bit earlier than expected. The overall effect this produced was to make the crowd look like they were all hopping around on pogo sticks, hence the name.

Moshing, on the other hand, is something quite different altogether. (Well, insofar as two forms of rock dancing can be differecnt, sort of like the difference between African and Asian elephants.) This type of dancing is what most people refer to as pogo, because it's easier to pronounce, but that doesn't make it right. I'm not so much of an anorak on the exact historical origins of it, but my best educated guess would have to be the '80s, when metal started appearing with bands like Black Sabbath and Motörhead and all of them. It was old glam-guitar-solo-rock which had been injected with a huge dose of agitation by the punk movement, and my was it good. And with it came lots of money, which meant bigger gigs, stadiums and wide open spaces. More room to dance, so sideways made a comeback. But there was still the issue of anger management, and very soon arms (fully equipped with spikes of course) started flailing and punching. That's where it became a contact sport, survival of the fittest/biggest/best furnished in the guard department.

Here endeth the lecture.

Ironic Virus Theme Coming Through Here Part 3

She's gone into the valley,
Who the hell are Jack and Sally?
Dropped down from my high-hill,
Overview of the scene
Where have I been?

Where haven't I been in so many slow recent thoughts though?
What is there now that I do not know?
Am I out? Is this doubt?
Or do I just go on, singing my song,
Whch is now far too long,
And going quite badly wrong.

Never would have said,
Would have rathered seen 'em dead,
This idea doesn't fit in my head,
But I'm not seeing red.
That's life, blunt edge of the knife,

It was just my bit of fun,
Staring at the barrel of this loaded gun,
What did I expect?
More than second best?

Hidden meanings,
Cryptic message,
Got rid of the seemings,
(torn at the seams, straight through the sea)
Seeping away what I was seeing.
And yet through all the bleating,
In those moments that now seem fleeting,
That fleet of things, under my sheeted wings.

Massage my crypt,
Into which I've slipped.
Beware the brew from which I sipped,
Off the cliff, I have been tipped.
My ties to real world have been snipped.
Now the switch has been flipped,
And my heel in the Styx finally dipped.

Die Ärzte

Mein Ex(plodierte Freundin)

(salsa-style)

Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert,
ich hatte nicht damit gerechnet, darum bin ich blutverschmiert.
Wer konnte ahnen, da sie so reagiert?
Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert.

Täglich liest man in der Zeitung
von spontanen Explosionen
man blättert um und denkt im stillen:
"Das Schicksal wird mich sicherlich verschonen."
Ich frage sie - nee, ich frage SIE! - wie konnte so etwas geschehn?

Mein Baby war mein Ein und Alles,
und, entre nous: sie war auch schön.

Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert,
ich hatte nicht damit gerechnet, darum bin ich blutverschmiert.
Man kann sagen, ich bin ziemlich irritiert
gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert.

Ich rief sofort die Polizei an
und sagte: "Komm schnell vorbei, Mann!"
meine Freundin ist passée,
so wie ein China-Beller "D"
Sie flog mir plötzlich um die Ohren,
kein Wunder, dass ich traurig bin:
ich hab nicht nur 'ne Frau verloren,
nein, auch die Bettwasche ist hin.
Ich wollte sie gerade kussen, da gab es einen Knall -
gerade eben lag sie neben mir,
jetzt liegt sie überall im Raum verteilt.

Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert,
zum Glück trag ich 'nen Integralhelm, darum ist mir nichts passiert.
Wer konnte ahnen, da sie so reagiert?
Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert.

Als meine erste große Liebe ganz spontan in Flammen stand
da habe ich noch laut gelacht.
Die nächste wurde dann von Außerirrdischen entfuhrt
ich hab mir nichts dabei gedacht.
Mit Freundin Nummer Drei
war es auch bald vorbei.
Sie versteinerte, das fand ich ganz normal.
Doch als die vierte explodierte, wurde mir dann langsam klar
da meine Partnerin zu sein wohl nicht ganz ungefährlich war?

Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert,
ich hatte nicht damit gerechnet, darum bin ich blutverschmiert.
Wer konnte ahnen, da sie so explodiert?
Gestern nacht ist meine Freundin explodiert.

The Vandals

My Girlfriend's Dead

(from the album "Hitler bad, Vandals good.")

I once had a girlfriend, but then one day she dumped me and everywhere I'd go people would ask me where she was.

But I don't want to talk about her.
But someone always asks about her.
So I tell them all my girlfriend's dead.

I say it's leukemia or sometimes bulimia or a great big truck ran her over and chopped off her head.

But I don't want to talk about her.
But someone always asks about her.
So I tell them all my girlfriend's dead.

I guess there's a part of me that likes the sympathy or the looks on their faces when I tell them how she passed away.

But I don't want to talk about her.
But someone always asks about her.
So I tell them all she's dead.

My girlfriend's dead you see, it's a total lie- but it's easier on me than having to admit that she likes someone else.

My girlfriend's dead you know, please change the subject or I'm going to go jump off a building and join her in heaven.

Squirrel Songs

www.illwillpress.com

Foamy the angry squirrel busking in a park, it's hilarious, the music's cool too, and here are the lyrics pinched straight from the subtitles:

Squirrelly Wrath

I will kill you all

Nothing you can do about it

I will kill you all

Nothing you can do about it

Squirrelly Wrath

Squirrelly Wrath

Squirrelly Wrath

You’re all gonna die

You’re all gonna die

Squirrelly Wrath

Squirrelly Wrath

I’m The Lord & Master

I’m the lord & master

All of you are bastards

Worship me

Or I’ll stab your eyes ‘till you bleed

I’m the lord & master

And So I’m A Squirrel

And so I’m, a squirrel

And you’re not, how pathetic you are

So I’m, a squirrel

And you’re not, you’re just human, how pathetic you are

You don’t have a fluffy tail

You don’t have squirrelly wrath

You just build to destroy

While I collect some nuts

And you all suck

Apart from anything else, just postng for thesake of it, quick'n'easy, because I can't be bothered to write up my two weeks in hospital (So that's where he's been then!) yet. Especially with having to go back for more final tests tomorrow. Might do it this afternoon if I'm feeling up to. Might not.