Trying to be funny

- Grant's Adventures in Norwich and Beyond -

by the way
Earlier on, a few posts back, I said that drew in the margins of bad novels.  This was a lie.  I was being poetic and if I ever find you writing or drawing on a book that you have not purchased exclusively to use for a scholastic course I  will HURT YOU.  That is not what books are for.  They are already written leave them alone what are you doing.

rawkus in suits
Rawkus!  Rawkus, mother-bitches, done up to the nines in suits and dresses.  Mad fun.

Apparently I was tremendously drunk.  I am working this out as I thought very few things happened at the Waterfront but as I piece together recollections by talking to more sober people, it is like finding polaroid photographs of the evening stuffed into a bag along with all my things.  I am like a character in a point-and-click game who has lost their memory.  It is lovely.

- I remember walking in; well, fucking storming in, I was up and drunk and blazing, done up in the waistcoat shirt etc, and was suddenly flanked by two odd-looking girls.  One had check marks shaved into the side of her head, the other ratty dreadlocks..  It was great - they stayed there for about three minutes before they realised just how damn drunk I was, it wasn't confidence, it was eight drinks and a suit, and politely fucked off to different parts of the room.

- Ben pushed me over.  This explains the way my the back of my head hurts, but not why both my elbows ache.  Perhaps I hit them dramatically on the floor, too.  Good work, Ben.  Normally I am quite hard to knock over; you must have caught me during a spin.

-  I kept spilling my beer.  That was quite amusing, I seem to recall.  Better than drinking much more of it, to be honest.

- I was dancing - well, you know, retard on fire, etc - and I threw my head back and it connected squarely with a girl's behind me.  I turned around to apologise and she hit me hard in the face.  I like her.  My nose may have bled.  I am sad that I will probably never get to congratulate her.

- I didn't smoke!  It has been one month and four days.  I miss it.  Sometimes I wish I could write it letters and beg it to take me back, but then it's not actually a person and can't really receive letters.

- I kept slapping Harriet in the face but that was alright, I think.  She didn't seem to mind.  She was probabaly hitting me as well.  I wouldn't do that sort of thing unprovoked.  Also apparently Bob went so far as to break up a localised mosh between the two of us, which explains why I remember shoving him out of the way at some point during the evening.  It was all good fun.  I reckon.  Wasn't it?

- I appear to have replaced most of the skin on my legs with bruises.

- I have not had a hangover like the one I experienced on Saturday in bloody years.  There was a wonderment to it; like breaking your leg and being impressed that such a horrible thing had happened.  I didn't feel wretched, but actively wronged, and managed to propel myself through the day by swearing and banging off nearby objects.  At one point I did actually crawl around my room.

But yes!  That was bloody awesome.  I perhaps should have switched to soft drinks as I hit the Waterfront, but hey, we all make mistakes.

Hey internet
Yeah, yeah you over there.  I managed to track down some things that you might like.  You might not.  I care not.

Firstly there are still some people who are not aware of, which is sad because it is an sharply written humour site with many interesting articles.  If you find the longdark of endless Sunday afternoon too much to bear, have a look.  I've been reading it for the last two hours.

Secondly here are the Cunninglynguists, who are a charming rap three-piece from the South.  Their music is solid but I'm really in it for the name.  Have a listen; the sampling is pretty good.

Finally here is Subnormality, a webcomic.  It is not especially well-written, or funny, but it is enthralling and I read the entire lot in one go.  It is the comic equivalent of seeing an attractive woman at a coffee shop - you don't know her, but she's pretty, she's wearing a dress and talking to someone on the phone and you sort of watch her while you pretend to do whatever it is you're doing.  It's an odd biscuit.



Let's try that again
Alright, Goldstone, perhaps my music collection is a bit poor.  I have culled - I have actually deleted music that I own - in an attempt to hammer out something I'm not ashamed of.  And it worked!  Below is another one of those poems that everyone's bloody doing.  Behind a cut for anyone that doesn't want it cluttering their flist.

Maybe when the room is empty

More of this bollocks?Collapse )

Poetry meme stolen from Esoteroticist
Music player on random - first lines of 20 songs are the poem, first line of the 21st is the title.

I've been watching your world from afar

Read more...Collapse )

can I just say
that the rain on the walk home last night was incredible

once I pulled back the hood on my jacket to feel it

it was like being touched by a lover

I think I love walking home more than I give it credit for

I'm sure you were all caring really hard, but I'm rather better now following existentialist experiment #1 - "Baaaaww" on Sunday night (and Monday morning).  I'm changing?  Clearly I should.  Life has changed around me and I am changing to fit the container in which I am placed.  Big surprise.  I'm not unchanging - I've changed a lot over the last four years of my life, and this is just another stage.  Was scary to realise it, though.

In others news I have contacts and while I can't really see as I well as I did, I do look a lot better as contacts fit my moon-face and glasses don't.  Sadly.  It has only taken me 17 years to realise that. 

I do not know how I will draw myself without glasses on.  (I am bad at eyes)

Dark Heresy went very indeed, in a "just as planned" sort of way, and the players seem peachy keen to rob everyone in the underhive and get them to kill each other, which is pretty much what I was after.

When I walk home I tend to smell of woodsmoke once I get in.  Seeing as I pass no fires this must be a spontaneously generated effect on account of my sexy and exciting demeanour.

If I had all the money in the world I devote most of it into researching hover technology.  And someone use said technology's advanced form to give me unlimited Mage Hand.

this is the best snow ever
Seriously; I have never seen snow better than this.  Chris - down for the weekend to pack up his life in Norwich - and I ran around outside, stepping on pristine pavements with snow two inches deep.  Made snowmen on the tops of bins and gave them glass eyes and pegs for mouths.

Walked to town with Harriet and it swirled around us, proper snow like that in a film.  Not the sort of thing you want to do alone; you want someone there to appreciate it with you, or it feels terribly lonely and silent instead of joyous.  Flakes stuck to my coat awkwardly.  The streets are so clean, the roof of every building beautiful.  Trying to write poetically about snow seems trite, so I am only half-trying - I am not stopping myself, but I am refusing to overthink it.

Took pictures of streets that I have walked down every day and not thought about.  Wished for a paper cup of coffee to highlight the cold, for a cigarette and a wall to lean on.  Did without.

tl;dr - yai snow, want to smoke

two lines
I have had a poem in my head for three years and I cannot write it.  It is centered around two lines I thought about when I saw a girl in the waterfront at 80's night, back in first year, and those lines are

"and I want to lick the sweat
from your nicotine neck"

and the rest just sort of spirals around, amorphous, waiting to coalesce.  Could be interesting.

In other news drunk.

walk home
I walked home tonight with my coat flaring

and I sought out all the bars

wanted to feel the city wrap and pulse itself around me

I listened to music too loud on buds pushed too deep into my aching ears

and slipped through crowds, across pavements, down empty yellow-lit streets

and missed cigarettes with friends out the back of pubs

and smoke passed around a circle with the taste of red wine

and my lover


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