I reckon anyone can write poetry, coz most of the stuff I've read is shit so it really can't be that difficult. To test this theory, I'm gonna write a poem now off the top of my head. Let me know what you think.
Fucked Up On Garlic Crabcakes.
I've got a camel on my back and it's excitably drunk,
Like Thelonious Monk.
Spunk dribbling out the side of it's mouth.
It's got three humps,
His girlfriends got AIDS and mumps,
So he dumps her.
She throws herself under a train,
Everyone curses her name,
As they're going insane in a three hour standstill.
Jack and Jill popped a pill and got their fill,
Staring at their hands,
Jill sucking on Jacks glands.
Jill was pregnant in the mornin',
Went to a clinic and got an abortion.
Things were never the same between them.
Jill started drinkn',
And Jack started going to gay clubs.
Got himself a hardon,
Got taken up the arse in Covent Garden,
But forgot to use a condom.
Now he's got Hepatitis B.
Jill's too drunk to see the car in the road,
And she gets mowed down.
Paralised from the waist down in her nightgown,
She'll never walk again.
Meanwhile, my camel friend is chewing on my ear.
He really is a fucking nuisance.
Friday, 30 March 2007
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
Let The Games Begin!
I can't sleep.
Not because I'm excited about my birthday, but because my celebrations were kicked off in an awesome style by seeing The Walk Off at the Market Tavern. They were totally fucking awesome. I noticed none of you fuckers came, that's alright, you were the ones who missed out. Yer not the only ones either, there were a mere handful who bore witness to this gig. I would delve deeper into a general local music apathy rant, but I shall save that for another day.
Also tonight, someone who could have justifiably been a real dick to me, was real cool and nice to me.
So, yeah. My birthday has pretty much started off in the best possible way. Let us see what tomorrow brings.
I'm pretty sure it will be booze related.
Not because I'm excited about my birthday, but because my celebrations were kicked off in an awesome style by seeing The Walk Off at the Market Tavern. They were totally fucking awesome. I noticed none of you fuckers came, that's alright, you were the ones who missed out. Yer not the only ones either, there were a mere handful who bore witness to this gig. I would delve deeper into a general local music apathy rant, but I shall save that for another day.
Also tonight, someone who could have justifiably been a real dick to me, was real cool and nice to me.
So, yeah. My birthday has pretty much started off in the best possible way. Let us see what tomorrow brings.
I'm pretty sure it will be booze related.
Possibly My Favourite Customer Quote Ever!
Me: "Do you need a bag for that?"
Customer: "No, I don't believe in bags. I believe in them existentialy, but not for putting things in."
I literally had absolutly no idea what to say to that.
Customer: "No, I don't believe in bags. I believe in them existentialy, but not for putting things in."
I literally had absolutly no idea what to say to that.
Friday, 23 March 2007
Under Pressure.
I seem to remember Pippa shouting at me to write a new blog last nite. So now I am typing under pressure. There are problems with me writing a blog at the moment. One of those being a feeling of intimidation by James' blog (Post Gargle Blaster Events) being the best fucking blog in the world ever EVER!!! The second being that I always have things to write about, but alawys forget them coz of my bloody flaky brain pie syndrome. Never mind, I shall endeavor to write a new blog anyway. Look, I already am. This is going pretty well, I'd say.
So, on Wednesday, myself, Russ & Paul went to London to see Esbjorn Svensson Trio at the Barbican. Doing anything with Russ & Paul is fun, because at some point Russ will say or do something Paul doesn't like and they'll spend a while having little digs at each other, like some kind of niggling married couple. I laughed a lot on the coach up to London and I can't remember why, I think it started when Russ started taking photos.
Anyway, London, tube stations & trains, follow the line on the pavement to the Barbican centre. Which is HUGE! Finding the Hall was relativly easy, although being sure we were at the right door wasn't, but that paled in comparisson to finding a toilet. We finally worked out there was one up one floor, and one down one floor. We went for down. We hadn't realised tho', that going down one floor would involve going down about 12 flights of stairs! So once we'd got down there, worked out you couldn't open the toilet door and had to push a button, done that again, finally got into the toilets, had our respective pisses, washed our hands when we worked out that you had to turn on the taps with your foot which was not made especially clear, dried our hands on the remarkably un-futuristic hand towels (I was half expecting to have to headbutt the towel dispencer to make it work), we had to go back up about 12 flights of stairs to go to the main hall where no-one even bothered to check our ticket. We just strolled in and found our seats. Then left them again to buy small bottles of water for £1.50 each. Then went back for the gig.
Which was totally awesome!!! Seeing the Trio doing their thing was pretty amazing. My Personal highlights were "Definition Of A Dog" and the first encore when they played "Dolores In A Shoestore". Oh, and the bit where they went into a bit of a soundscape including one of those kids toys that makes whining noises when you turn it over being played thru some effects, along with bass effects and plucked piano strings. Hang on, that might have been part of "Definition Of A Dog". I can't exactly remember.
End, leave, food, more tube stations and trains, coach, sleep, home.
A very very good night.
Jesus, that took me over an hour to write. I keep getting distracted. This is probably why I forget what I'm gonna write about all the time. I need to start writing stuff down more. But then my room would probably turn into looking like Guy Pearce's room in Memento.
I woke up this morning with the first hangover I've had in weeks. It was a strange sort of reassuring feeling, like seeing an old friend who you've missed for a while. Last night was good. Drinks with people from work, and with Alice who's back for a week before she goes off to Morrocco. Lots of words spoken but none remembered. This was followed by followed by a small dose of drunk Guitar Hero, at which I seem to remember not doing so well coz I was a bit drunk and haven't been practising (tut tut) then onto Smash Disco, which I remember virtually nothing of except that I was enjoying Party Shank djing, Pippa told me to do another blog, and I danced on a table. Then got told off by security. I also remember talking to Chips which was cool coz I don't see Chips that often and it's always cool when I do. Can't remember a single word either of us said tho'. I think I told him to come to the pub on my birthday. I remember bumping into Hootie outside the Zodiac. I remember eating a kebab and watching The X-Files. I can't remember what happened in The X-Files. I'm now a little worried that I can hardly remember anything I said to anyone. Not worried that I said anything I shouldn't have, more "Uh-Oh, my memory is getting even worse."
Think I may drink booze again tonight.
So, on Wednesday, myself, Russ & Paul went to London to see Esbjorn Svensson Trio at the Barbican. Doing anything with Russ & Paul is fun, because at some point Russ will say or do something Paul doesn't like and they'll spend a while having little digs at each other, like some kind of niggling married couple. I laughed a lot on the coach up to London and I can't remember why, I think it started when Russ started taking photos.
Anyway, London, tube stations & trains, follow the line on the pavement to the Barbican centre. Which is HUGE! Finding the Hall was relativly easy, although being sure we were at the right door wasn't, but that paled in comparisson to finding a toilet. We finally worked out there was one up one floor, and one down one floor. We went for down. We hadn't realised tho', that going down one floor would involve going down about 12 flights of stairs! So once we'd got down there, worked out you couldn't open the toilet door and had to push a button, done that again, finally got into the toilets, had our respective pisses, washed our hands when we worked out that you had to turn on the taps with your foot which was not made especially clear, dried our hands on the remarkably un-futuristic hand towels (I was half expecting to have to headbutt the towel dispencer to make it work), we had to go back up about 12 flights of stairs to go to the main hall where no-one even bothered to check our ticket. We just strolled in and found our seats. Then left them again to buy small bottles of water for £1.50 each. Then went back for the gig.
Which was totally awesome!!! Seeing the Trio doing their thing was pretty amazing. My Personal highlights were "Definition Of A Dog" and the first encore when they played "Dolores In A Shoestore". Oh, and the bit where they went into a bit of a soundscape including one of those kids toys that makes whining noises when you turn it over being played thru some effects, along with bass effects and plucked piano strings. Hang on, that might have been part of "Definition Of A Dog". I can't exactly remember.
End, leave, food, more tube stations and trains, coach, sleep, home.
A very very good night.
Jesus, that took me over an hour to write. I keep getting distracted. This is probably why I forget what I'm gonna write about all the time. I need to start writing stuff down more. But then my room would probably turn into looking like Guy Pearce's room in Memento.
I woke up this morning with the first hangover I've had in weeks. It was a strange sort of reassuring feeling, like seeing an old friend who you've missed for a while. Last night was good. Drinks with people from work, and with Alice who's back for a week before she goes off to Morrocco. Lots of words spoken but none remembered. This was followed by followed by a small dose of drunk Guitar Hero, at which I seem to remember not doing so well coz I was a bit drunk and haven't been practising (tut tut) then onto Smash Disco, which I remember virtually nothing of except that I was enjoying Party Shank djing, Pippa told me to do another blog, and I danced on a table. Then got told off by security. I also remember talking to Chips which was cool coz I don't see Chips that often and it's always cool when I do. Can't remember a single word either of us said tho'. I think I told him to come to the pub on my birthday. I remember bumping into Hootie outside the Zodiac. I remember eating a kebab and watching The X-Files. I can't remember what happened in The X-Files. I'm now a little worried that I can hardly remember anything I said to anyone. Not worried that I said anything I shouldn't have, more "Uh-Oh, my memory is getting even worse."
Think I may drink booze again tonight.
Monday, 19 March 2007
Brain Pie.
So, I just wrote this hideously long, self-indulgent piece about how my blog had turned into some kind of obsessive public diary and not the focussed opinion and humour blog it was originally intended to be. Then as soon as I wrote it, I stopped caring and accepted it. So here we go. Grab a slice of Axl's brain right now, and this is it's list of main ingredients at the moment:
Currently listening to Foals Live 12". It's very very good indeed.
I think Enders may be right and I shall possibly be consuming my own semen when the year is over.
I'm sure this is an over-asked question, but why the fuck do people, stupid people especially, feel the need to point out the blindingly obvious? (Seriously, if one more customer says "Oooh, you don't sound too good." to me, I'm gonna bite their fucking neck off.) Is it some kind of affirmation that they do indeed have a functioning brain? Are they scared that their brains will stop working if they do not prove it to be in constant use? Or maybe it's just their mouths they're worried will stop - I've noticed that most people who do feel this incessant need to constantly state the fucking obvious are also the people who cannot handle a moments silence, and feel the need to just keep talking no matter what.
On sunday, Craig (my weekender, my apprentice, Robin to my Batman) put on the best of Johnny Cash and that song 'Man In Black' came on. It's the one where old John boy basically goes "Boo hoo, I'm so unhappy coz the world is nasty so I always wear black. I wish I could wear bright colours but I can't because the world is so horrible. Boo hoo hoo. Waaaaaaaaaah.". It made me wonder just why he'd "love to wear a rainbow every day". If I wore rainbow clothes, I'd just get really paranoid that my brothers were gonna get real jealous and push me in a pit or something.
Oh, look what you've done now. You forgot that Axl's Brain Pie is a bit flaky and as you've gone to take a bite of this slice, a loads crumbled off and fallen on the floor. I can't tell what the rest of the ingredients are now.
Currently listening to Foals Live 12". It's very very good indeed.
I think Enders may be right and I shall possibly be consuming my own semen when the year is over.
I'm sure this is an over-asked question, but why the fuck do people, stupid people especially, feel the need to point out the blindingly obvious? (Seriously, if one more customer says "Oooh, you don't sound too good." to me, I'm gonna bite their fucking neck off.) Is it some kind of affirmation that they do indeed have a functioning brain? Are they scared that their brains will stop working if they do not prove it to be in constant use? Or maybe it's just their mouths they're worried will stop - I've noticed that most people who do feel this incessant need to constantly state the fucking obvious are also the people who cannot handle a moments silence, and feel the need to just keep talking no matter what.
On sunday, Craig (my weekender, my apprentice, Robin to my Batman) put on the best of Johnny Cash and that song 'Man In Black' came on. It's the one where old John boy basically goes "Boo hoo, I'm so unhappy coz the world is nasty so I always wear black. I wish I could wear bright colours but I can't because the world is so horrible. Boo hoo hoo. Waaaaaaaaaah.". It made me wonder just why he'd "love to wear a rainbow every day". If I wore rainbow clothes, I'd just get really paranoid that my brothers were gonna get real jealous and push me in a pit or something.
Oh, look what you've done now. You forgot that Axl's Brain Pie is a bit flaky and as you've gone to take a bite of this slice, a loads crumbled off and fallen on the floor. I can't tell what the rest of the ingredients are now.
Friday, 16 March 2007
Death Of The Second Hand Record Shop?
This has been worrying me for some time now. Of course, as we all know by now, The Polar Bear has closed. Vinyl Frontier is closing, and almost definitely by the end of this year, Avid will no longer be with us. This will leave Oxford with no second hand record/cd shops whatsoever. This makes me really sad. There are two very obvious reasons for this:
1. Oxford Prices.
Yes, our old friends the council and the universities believe they can do things like increase rent on their properties and impose a backpay period just because they feel like it. The reason they believe they can do this is because, well, they can. It's this attitude that is turning Oxford into a really lame city where any small or interesting business is having to make way for another fucking coffee shop or baguette/sandwhich place. (Yeah, coz we really fucking need more of those in Oxford, don't we? It's like if they decide to turn where Polar Bear used to be into a kebab shop. Cowley Road doesn't have enough of those.) People always talk about 'the decline of Britains high streets' and the like, putting all the blame on the internet, but in Oxford's case at least, a lot of the blame must surely be put on the property owners imposing rent hikes that surely they know smaller businesses simply can't afford to pay, forcing them to close and turning Oxford city centre into one of the most boring cities in the world with every shop become the same bloody thing. A big boring corporate wet dream. Yeah, cheers for that.
2. The Internet.
Now, I said that you can't put all the blame on the internet, but especially in the case of second hand music shops, and music shops in general actually, the rise of the internet has been an alarmingly damaging competitor. Now, I'm the kind of person who likes to go to music shops with knowing what I'm after, but having a good rumage thru the racks and shelves to find stuff I hadn't thought of or some unexpected gems. It's what I personally really enjoy about shopping, but people just want to be able to get what they want and not have to worry about not being able to find it or even go thru the hassle of trying to find it, and having it sent to you and being able to shop for it at anytime you wish is far too convenient to pass up on for these people. I understand that it is very convenient, but I find it a massive shame that it is having this negative effect on shops and businesses.
Well that's all I can think of to say about that right now. In other Axl news, Ive hardly had any sleep for the last 3 nights because I've been coughing so much. It has made the muscles in my stomach area hurt, which is just great. I'm also excited that The Walk Off are playing in Oxford the day before my birthday, you should all come. I also thought about how I don't fancy Dawn French, but if I was single, she's probably the kind of woman who could quite easily talk/laugh me into bed.
Also, for anyone whose interested, Matt Riley has finally got round to posting a new blog. It's a bit somber.
1. Oxford Prices.
Yes, our old friends the council and the universities believe they can do things like increase rent on their properties and impose a backpay period just because they feel like it. The reason they believe they can do this is because, well, they can. It's this attitude that is turning Oxford into a really lame city where any small or interesting business is having to make way for another fucking coffee shop or baguette/sandwhich place. (Yeah, coz we really fucking need more of those in Oxford, don't we? It's like if they decide to turn where Polar Bear used to be into a kebab shop. Cowley Road doesn't have enough of those.) People always talk about 'the decline of Britains high streets' and the like, putting all the blame on the internet, but in Oxford's case at least, a lot of the blame must surely be put on the property owners imposing rent hikes that surely they know smaller businesses simply can't afford to pay, forcing them to close and turning Oxford city centre into one of the most boring cities in the world with every shop become the same bloody thing. A big boring corporate wet dream. Yeah, cheers for that.
2. The Internet.
Now, I said that you can't put all the blame on the internet, but especially in the case of second hand music shops, and music shops in general actually, the rise of the internet has been an alarmingly damaging competitor. Now, I'm the kind of person who likes to go to music shops with knowing what I'm after, but having a good rumage thru the racks and shelves to find stuff I hadn't thought of or some unexpected gems. It's what I personally really enjoy about shopping, but people just want to be able to get what they want and not have to worry about not being able to find it or even go thru the hassle of trying to find it, and having it sent to you and being able to shop for it at anytime you wish is far too convenient to pass up on for these people. I understand that it is very convenient, but I find it a massive shame that it is having this negative effect on shops and businesses.
Well that's all I can think of to say about that right now. In other Axl news, Ive hardly had any sleep for the last 3 nights because I've been coughing so much. It has made the muscles in my stomach area hurt, which is just great. I'm also excited that The Walk Off are playing in Oxford the day before my birthday, you should all come. I also thought about how I don't fancy Dawn French, but if I was single, she's probably the kind of woman who could quite easily talk/laugh me into bed.
Also, for anyone whose interested, Matt Riley has finally got round to posting a new blog. It's a bit somber.
Tuesday, 13 March 2007
Today Axl is feeling: Cautious.
I'm gonna whisper this so's to try not to anger the many headed beast of fate into piledriving my arse right back to a few days ago, but;
I think I might actually finally be getting better.
My reasons for thinking this are that I actually managed to spend a night not in my room on my own and headed on down to Tootsie's for a big fat burger for Rob and Lee's birthday. It was pretty delicious. Today I've also been coughing up considerably less of the greeny-grey consistency-of-blu-tac phlegm that has been plaguing me since thursday. And, now this is the real tell-tale sign, today I started really hating the general public of Oxford again! Yay! God, it was like two weeks of hatred all in a day. I properly started hating those fucking arrogant little concieted cunt-flaps again, wishing they would all get hit by buses on their way home. Their pathetic little attitudes, their hideously smug feelings of superiority, I hate them all so much. I did have specific examples of their fuckwittery, but there became too many and it all just blurred into one feeling of extreme hatred. I can't wait to be away from these Oxford fucks once and for all. I love Oxford, and they ruin it. Wankers.
At this rate I may even get drunk again soon. Don't hold yer breath just yet tho'. I'll probably get tuberculosis or something.
I think I might actually finally be getting better.
My reasons for thinking this are that I actually managed to spend a night not in my room on my own and headed on down to Tootsie's for a big fat burger for Rob and Lee's birthday. It was pretty delicious. Today I've also been coughing up considerably less of the greeny-grey consistency-of-blu-tac phlegm that has been plaguing me since thursday. And, now this is the real tell-tale sign, today I started really hating the general public of Oxford again! Yay! God, it was like two weeks of hatred all in a day. I properly started hating those fucking arrogant little concieted cunt-flaps again, wishing they would all get hit by buses on their way home. Their pathetic little attitudes, their hideously smug feelings of superiority, I hate them all so much. I did have specific examples of their fuckwittery, but there became too many and it all just blurred into one feeling of extreme hatred. I can't wait to be away from these Oxford fucks once and for all. I love Oxford, and they ruin it. Wankers.
At this rate I may even get drunk again soon. Don't hold yer breath just yet tho'. I'll probably get tuberculosis or something.
Sunday, 11 March 2007
Post No.32
MySpace wouldn't let me log in for ages today, so as a man in need of his daily voyeuristic fix, I went back to my forgotten friend, the "next blog" link. I saw a lot of blogs. About Two Thirds of them were from Canadians. Almost all of the Canadians were devout christians and passionatly right wing. It seems that the conservatives are taking over Blogger. I was getting a little bored, but then I got 2 diamond blogs in a row. The first was
diwidoforlent.blogspot.com. Similar to Pippa's 40 Days Without MySpace blog, this was a blog specifically devoted to the period of Lent. Unlike Pippa's blog about the in's & out's of a personal sacrifice however, this is a middle aged woman who is publishing a different writing from the bible every day, with a photograph to represent her feelings about it. Todays biblical quote was "2 Corinthians 5:21 God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.", which was, somewhat bafflingly, accompanied by a photograph of a frog trapped inside a glass cake dome. Erm... What the fuck?! Anyway, read on and you find out this is supposed to represent the fact that God has us all covered, in a way that is far to obscure for me to relay here. Mostly because I've read it 3 times now and it still reads like the random ramblings of a mad woman which just don't seem to link up at all, but are somehow supposed to. I particularly like the photo of her praying, desperatly trying to convey her passion for God, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious anyway. If unlike me, you don't enjoy the whole over-the-topness of fanatical christians, I apologise. I get it from my mum.
The next blog made me feel very good about myself. I've been thinking I've been blogging a bit too much recently, but that feeling disappeared when I saw sidelineviews.blogspot.com. This blog is by an American who is fanatical about "the beautiful game of soccer". This month alone he has posted 107 blogs. In 11 days. Yesterday alone he posted 19. 19! It made me feel a lot better about myself. As did the realisation that a lot of blogs I subsequently looked at had more than one posting a day. Most of these were from people across the pond. Whether that means anything or not, I'll leave up to you.
The best was yet to come. A few clicks later I was on a blop called "Fop" (I forgot to copy down the adress), which seemed to be a blog devoted to trashy Europop. Yes! I got to see performances of 4 of this year upcoming Eurovision entries. Entry No.1 is Finland's Hanna Pakarinen, a rather butch looking woman, with a song called "Leave Me Alone". A song which sounds like Evanescence. Second up Andorra's entry Anonymous, a group of guys who look just like McFly, with "Salven el Mon". Apparently it means Save The World, and it sounds, well, just like McFly really. Third is Serbia's Marija Serifovic, who looks just like a man in a dress, with "Molitva", a drippy ballad that sounds just like Celine Dion. Lastly, I was treated to possibly the best/worst of the lot so far. Sweden's The Ark with "The Worrying Kind". A man who looks like the bloke from H.I.M, fronting a band that sound like T-Rex. Oh, and the singer had sequins stuck on his chest in a heart shape. I wish I could remember some of the lyrics now because they were truly utterly awful. I seem to remember a line about how police cars don't care about us.
There was no topping that. The only blogs worth short mentions were one by a 14 year old girl full of terrible poetry and Avril Lavine lyrics, and one by a woman who lives in a castle who wrote something about wiping her childs bottom.
I also , through the power of some random surveys, that my perfect stripping song is "My Humps" by Black Eyed Peas, and that my kissing technique is perfect.
Jesus Christ I'm a loser.
diwidoforlent.blogspot.com. Similar to Pippa's 40 Days Without MySpace blog, this was a blog specifically devoted to the period of Lent. Unlike Pippa's blog about the in's & out's of a personal sacrifice however, this is a middle aged woman who is publishing a different writing from the bible every day, with a photograph to represent her feelings about it. Todays biblical quote was "2 Corinthians 5:21 God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.", which was, somewhat bafflingly, accompanied by a photograph of a frog trapped inside a glass cake dome. Erm... What the fuck?! Anyway, read on and you find out this is supposed to represent the fact that God has us all covered, in a way that is far to obscure for me to relay here. Mostly because I've read it 3 times now and it still reads like the random ramblings of a mad woman which just don't seem to link up at all, but are somehow supposed to. I particularly like the photo of her praying, desperatly trying to convey her passion for God, as if it wasn't blatantly obvious anyway. If unlike me, you don't enjoy the whole over-the-topness of fanatical christians, I apologise. I get it from my mum.
The next blog made me feel very good about myself. I've been thinking I've been blogging a bit too much recently, but that feeling disappeared when I saw sidelineviews.blogspot.com. This blog is by an American who is fanatical about "the beautiful game of soccer". This month alone he has posted 107 blogs. In 11 days. Yesterday alone he posted 19. 19! It made me feel a lot better about myself. As did the realisation that a lot of blogs I subsequently looked at had more than one posting a day. Most of these were from people across the pond. Whether that means anything or not, I'll leave up to you.
The best was yet to come. A few clicks later I was on a blop called "Fop" (I forgot to copy down the adress), which seemed to be a blog devoted to trashy Europop. Yes! I got to see performances of 4 of this year upcoming Eurovision entries. Entry No.1 is Finland's Hanna Pakarinen, a rather butch looking woman, with a song called "Leave Me Alone". A song which sounds like Evanescence. Second up Andorra's entry Anonymous, a group of guys who look just like McFly, with "Salven el Mon". Apparently it means Save The World, and it sounds, well, just like McFly really. Third is Serbia's Marija Serifovic, who looks just like a man in a dress, with "Molitva", a drippy ballad that sounds just like Celine Dion. Lastly, I was treated to possibly the best/worst of the lot so far. Sweden's The Ark with "The Worrying Kind". A man who looks like the bloke from H.I.M, fronting a band that sound like T-Rex. Oh, and the singer had sequins stuck on his chest in a heart shape. I wish I could remember some of the lyrics now because they were truly utterly awful. I seem to remember a line about how police cars don't care about us.
There was no topping that. The only blogs worth short mentions were one by a 14 year old girl full of terrible poetry and Avril Lavine lyrics, and one by a woman who lives in a castle who wrote something about wiping her childs bottom.
I also , through the power of some random surveys, that my perfect stripping song is "My Humps" by Black Eyed Peas, and that my kissing technique is perfect.
Jesus Christ I'm a loser.
Saturday, 10 March 2007
Friday, 9 March 2007
Axl's Adventures In Circuitry
I couldn't sleep for shit last night. So I was looking on various websites, and got to the old faithful YouTube to find a Sumo clip to put on my MySpace page. After watching a lot of Sumo, in which it became apparent that Asashoryu is some kind of living legend, there was a link to a clip about "Circuit Bending". I clicked on it and found what I've been looking for for so long. People talking about modifying electronic toys to make awesome noise. This is the kind of thing that I wanted to get into but had absolutly no idea how. I sprung into action and looked it up on tinternet. Turns out that getting started is pretty easy. So today it was off to the charity shops for me, and Age Concern had a perfect little childrens toy keyboard for me to start on. After a lot of dicking around with no results, I nearly gave up, but one last try came up trumps with a noise that sparked my desire back into life, and on I continued. Ok, so about 2 hours later, I'd only really found about 2 or 3 different sounds, but I'm pretty fucking excited. When I really get into it, I plan to cause havoc.
Other than that, it was my day off today which meant I could watch a whole Jeremy Kyle show this morning. I've been catching the first 10 mins or so before going to work all week, and thinking how I didn't want to go to work and watch people arguing instead, it had been a pretty juicy week, what I saw of it anyway, so I was pretty excited. What would Jezza have for me today? A tearaway teen who does heroin and is, like, so out of control? A man who beats seven shades of shit out of his girlfriend and wonders why she walked out on him? A woman who wasn't sure if the father of her child was her cousin or her brother?
No. I got fucking "We'll Never Know Why Our Children Ended Their Own Lives." and possibly the most depressing, upsetting and horrifying half hour of my televisual life as, first thing in the morning, I watched a man and a woman talk about how all 3 of their children commited suicide. Yeah, cheers for that. I love the smell of unbearable grief and uncontrolable tears in the morning.
On a lighter note, I am about to listen to the Sickoakes album again. It will be the first time I've listened to an album 3 times in one day since I first got Roni Size/Reprazent's New Forms album about 9 or 10 years ago, even though I've had it for quite a while now. I really can't recommend it highly enough, it makes me feel like a kid again. Sure, it's a bunch of guys who've just listened to Godspeed... and thought "Yeah, lets do that!", but Godspeed... aren't about to do a new album any fucking time soon, and Sickoakes do the job extremely fucking well. It may even take the crown for my favourite album of 2006. Yes I'm still trying to sort out a list. I know I should just not bother with it now, what with it being March 2007 and all, but it's become a little obsession in the Axl brain now. I have to work out a top 10, and I'm gonna bore the shit out of you all with it until I do.
Peace out bredren and sistren.
Other than that, it was my day off today which meant I could watch a whole Jeremy Kyle show this morning. I've been catching the first 10 mins or so before going to work all week, and thinking how I didn't want to go to work and watch people arguing instead, it had been a pretty juicy week, what I saw of it anyway, so I was pretty excited. What would Jezza have for me today? A tearaway teen who does heroin and is, like, so out of control? A man who beats seven shades of shit out of his girlfriend and wonders why she walked out on him? A woman who wasn't sure if the father of her child was her cousin or her brother?
No. I got fucking "We'll Never Know Why Our Children Ended Their Own Lives." and possibly the most depressing, upsetting and horrifying half hour of my televisual life as, first thing in the morning, I watched a man and a woman talk about how all 3 of their children commited suicide. Yeah, cheers for that. I love the smell of unbearable grief and uncontrolable tears in the morning.
On a lighter note, I am about to listen to the Sickoakes album again. It will be the first time I've listened to an album 3 times in one day since I first got Roni Size/Reprazent's New Forms album about 9 or 10 years ago, even though I've had it for quite a while now. I really can't recommend it highly enough, it makes me feel like a kid again. Sure, it's a bunch of guys who've just listened to Godspeed... and thought "Yeah, lets do that!", but Godspeed... aren't about to do a new album any fucking time soon, and Sickoakes do the job extremely fucking well. It may even take the crown for my favourite album of 2006. Yes I'm still trying to sort out a list. I know I should just not bother with it now, what with it being March 2007 and all, but it's become a little obsession in the Axl brain now. I have to work out a top 10, and I'm gonna bore the shit out of you all with it until I do.
Peace out bredren and sistren.
Tuesday, 6 March 2007
Axls Day At The Hospital.
You see, it's not enough to just be ill. No, I have to go and get excruciating chest pains. Again. I managed to make it to work just in time to realise that there was no way I could work today and lo, a paramedic was called into work. Again. (For those of you who don't know/remember, when I say again, I'm refering to the time, almost exactly 2 years ago, that I pulled my right peck and curled up on the shop floor in a ball of pain and tears.) This time was different though, I actually went to hospital because of breathing irregularity and it seemed I may have cracked a rib, or slightly damaged a lung. So a lovely ride to the hospital in a paramedics car. Anyway, this paramedic starts chatting about stuff, I think mostly to stop me panicing again, and it turns out she knows Russ! Small world and all that.
Anyway, I got wheelchaired into hospital and they put me on a bed and I had to wait and listen to a boy get diagnosed with diabetes on one side, and a woman with vaginal problems on the other (I heard more about cezarian sections, cysts and periods than I ever want to ever again.), while in front of me a nurse was shouting at an old woman things like "HOW ARE YOUR BOWELS?!" and "DOES IT BURN WHEN YOU PASS URINE?!" Ah, happy days.
So anyway I got my blood presure taken, my pulse checked, told the doctor about stuff, I got touched a lot (some of it very painful), and then off to be x-ray'd. A porter came and wheeled my bed into the x-ray room! I felt like I was on ER! (Except without the lovely Maura Tierney. (Have I spelt that right?) Mmmm, she's lovely.) Anyway, the x-ray showed no cracked rib and no lung damage. PHEW! Basically what they reckon happened was that I pulled a muscle at about the same time I got my cold, and all the bloody coughing I've done in the last few days has made it a hell of a lot worse than it would have been otherwise. So they let me go. After giving me some fucking strong painkillers that is. You could sell that shit for a fat wad of cash. Shame they didn't prescribe me anymore. Not that I'd sell it, it's just really good.
So anyway, I've got to take fuck loads of paracetomol and ibuprofen for the next week, and carry on normally. Well, as normal as you can when you can't really lift anything or move your right arm in certain ways. Woo-hoo!
On the plus side tho, another excuse to eat lots of soup and Malteasers! Yay!
Anyway, I got wheelchaired into hospital and they put me on a bed and I had to wait and listen to a boy get diagnosed with diabetes on one side, and a woman with vaginal problems on the other (I heard more about cezarian sections, cysts and periods than I ever want to ever again.), while in front of me a nurse was shouting at an old woman things like "HOW ARE YOUR BOWELS?!" and "DOES IT BURN WHEN YOU PASS URINE?!" Ah, happy days.
So anyway I got my blood presure taken, my pulse checked, told the doctor about stuff, I got touched a lot (some of it very painful), and then off to be x-ray'd. A porter came and wheeled my bed into the x-ray room! I felt like I was on ER! (Except without the lovely Maura Tierney. (Have I spelt that right?) Mmmm, she's lovely.) Anyway, the x-ray showed no cracked rib and no lung damage. PHEW! Basically what they reckon happened was that I pulled a muscle at about the same time I got my cold, and all the bloody coughing I've done in the last few days has made it a hell of a lot worse than it would have been otherwise. So they let me go. After giving me some fucking strong painkillers that is. You could sell that shit for a fat wad of cash. Shame they didn't prescribe me anymore. Not that I'd sell it, it's just really good.
So anyway, I've got to take fuck loads of paracetomol and ibuprofen for the next week, and carry on normally. Well, as normal as you can when you can't really lift anything or move your right arm in certain ways. Woo-hoo!
On the plus side tho, another excuse to eat lots of soup and Malteasers! Yay!
Monday, 5 March 2007
Bands Reunited.
Van Halen
The Police
Jesus & Mary Chain
Rage Against The Machine
Smashing Pumpkins
James
Crowded House
These are just the latest bands who have all thought to themselves "I know, let's reform!" Joining the seemingly very long recent list of
The Stooges
Take That
All Saints
The Pixies
Slint
The Who
etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc................
WHERE'S IT GONNA END?! Are Del Amitri gonna come out of the woodwork? Will Cast suddenly decide that enough wasn't actually enough? I wouldn't be surprised if Chris Cornell took a "If they can do it, so can I." approach and reformed Soundgarden. And surely we're only one small step away from albums by B*Witched, Let Loose, Menswear, Lightning Seeds and, gulp, Northern Uproar. At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if even Inspiral Carpets buried the hatchet!
I don't know how to end this blog.
The Police
Jesus & Mary Chain
Rage Against The Machine
Smashing Pumpkins
James
Crowded House
These are just the latest bands who have all thought to themselves "I know, let's reform!" Joining the seemingly very long recent list of
The Stooges
Take That
All Saints
The Pixies
Slint
The Who
etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc................
WHERE'S IT GONNA END?! Are Del Amitri gonna come out of the woodwork? Will Cast suddenly decide that enough wasn't actually enough? I wouldn't be surprised if Chris Cornell took a "If they can do it, so can I." approach and reformed Soundgarden. And surely we're only one small step away from albums by B*Witched, Let Loose, Menswear, Lightning Seeds and, gulp, Northern Uproar. At this rate I wouldn't be surprised if even Inspiral Carpets buried the hatchet!
I don't know how to end this blog.
Sunday, 4 March 2007
ILL AGAIN?!?
WHY?! Why am I always ill? Does my body secrete some sort of virus attracting odour? Does someone keep putting a sign on my back that I don't know about saying "Infect me"? Well I'm not happy about it. I missed Enders birthday because of it. I missed a gig because of it. I missed going to a mates house because of it. I'm supposed to be going to Mr Riley's tonight but probably won't make that either. It all sucks. Not good sucks either, sucky sucky five dollar sucks. The only good thing about it is that I have been able to indulge in 2 of my favourite things. Soup & Malteasers. It also means that my sleep has gone all screwy and I ended up watching ITV at about 2 or 3 this morning and the generic late night quizline bollocks that suddenly seems to be all the televisual rage right now. Some attractive woman thrusting her boobs out to the camera while trying to fill airtime while they try to get as many calls as they can so some gimp can answer the ridiculously easy puzzle and win some money that seems a fair ammount until you realise how much they are making on each call and that the only reason every game takes about 10-15 minutes to get a caller thru is so they can rack up the calls and make the money. I wouldn't mind if it weren't for that fact that instead of filling the time with anything interesting, they employ some vacuous airhead to prance around saying the same bloody thing over and over again interspersed only with the kind of asides that you instantly stop yourself from ever saying aloud because you know full well that they just sound so utterly fucking stupid and/or terminally dull that to utter them would immediatly make anyone who heard it lose all interest/respect for you. I wish I'd written some of them down now coz some of them were absolute gems and I can't remember them now. I do seem to remember that at one point she started talking about her friends drinking habits. Oh, and when she wasn't talking, she was dancing to the generic awful music that they always have playing in the background. It kind of made me miss the days of Quizmania, the first of these type of shows that ITV showed in the wee small hours. It didn't take itself so seriously and had little fanmail sections and was generally alot more fun. It was still total shit of course, but much more enjoyable during those sleepless nights. Anyway enough about that.
Something that did make me laugh. My mum came back from Thailand and had bought one of those cats that they have everywhere with the moving paw that's supposed to bring fortune. Anyway the English translated instructions made me laugh quite a lot:
- One NO.5 battery for praviding the power, enabling to automatically beckon the hand for months, setting it at any position, never be offected by the lights.
- When it is in the initiative operation, please insert the fitted NO.5#1.5Vbattery into the bottom of the treasure-beckoning cat according to the inscribed polaritities. Then it can work immediately. The hand beckoning will automatically enter the stable condition for several minutes.
- Inside attaching poly luck-beckoning lyrics, sticking them for immediate realizations.
- Inside attaching several self-filled out creative and catchy phrases' lable paper
- In finding that the hand-beckoning stops swinging, please change the same battery with type number.
It doesn't seem that funny now I've written it out, but I'm posting it in the hope that on first reading, you lot will find it as funny as I did.
Right, I can't think of what else to write now.
Something that did make me laugh. My mum came back from Thailand and had bought one of those cats that they have everywhere with the moving paw that's supposed to bring fortune. Anyway the English translated instructions made me laugh quite a lot:
- One NO.5 battery for praviding the power, enabling to automatically beckon the hand for months, setting it at any position, never be offected by the lights.
- When it is in the initiative operation, please insert the fitted NO.5#1.5Vbattery into the bottom of the treasure-beckoning cat according to the inscribed polaritities. Then it can work immediately. The hand beckoning will automatically enter the stable condition for several minutes.
- Inside attaching poly luck-beckoning lyrics, sticking them for immediate realizations.
- Inside attaching several self-filled out creative and catchy phrases' lable paper
- In finding that the hand-beckoning stops swinging, please change the same battery with type number.
It doesn't seem that funny now I've written it out, but I'm posting it in the hope that on first reading, you lot will find it as funny as I did.
Right, I can't think of what else to write now.
Friday, 2 March 2007
Penises.
Why do straight women complain about penises being ugly? I was just having a piss and I took the opportunity to check myself out, and can very much say that my penis is beautiful. But not just because it's mine, I think it's because they just are a bit awesome in general. It kind of makes me wish I was gay because I really genuinly think that penises are awesome. However, as much as I believe this, I do think that pretty much nothing beats breasts. Breasts make me think that God may actually exist. They taste so good, make a grown man cry. If ever I stare at yours then by all means give me a slap, but it won't stop me. Only the extraction of mine eyes would do such a thing. But anyway this isn't a blog about wonderful amazing incredible breasts, it's about how penises are fucking awesome also. They really are.
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