Hello and farewell

Life. Beautiful, grim, unsettling, amazing, endless, finite. Real.
Friends made and lost, time spent and wasted.
Now was then.
It takes time.

Spent the weekend in Nottingham drinking neat vodkas and getting lucky.
Sex is great. It really is. Sex with strangers can also be an odd experience.
Having missed an opportunity on the Friday, I was somewhat determined to have a second crack on the following night. Having suffered from severe alcohol angst the entire Saturday day (and feeling rougher than docker), I realised my only chance of doing anything even remotely meaningful on my second night in the city would have to entail more stupid quantities of vodka. After some expedient drinking to the backdrop of French fighter jet pilots doing odd stunts on a grainy mpeg, it was off to town.
Woke up around 10am somewhere in the East Midlands with a post grad student (I think), fairy dust stuck to my face and severely dehydrated.
The rest of the weekend was blur, a sequence of mini-blackouts, weak constitution, cheap spirits without mixers and cab fares so low they question the point of walking.
Still, it was nice.

I wanna be extinct by 2013

So what if the world is falling apart and us humans are to blame?
I don't give a shit, really.
I didn't create the world, and neither did some 'phantom' greater entity or 'god' (such a laughable concept it's almost not funny).
Pollution, overcrowding, the eroding of natural species, the exhausting of natural resources and everything else boring do-gooder's get incensed about - shut up or shoot yourself!

I don't particularly miss the dodo or the sabre-tooth tiger. Can you think of anyone that does?

Sure, it's nice being able to walk in a lush green forest in the summer time, but it is even nicer to sit in a heated house with the kettle on watching the Simpsons on a winter's night.

Why do people (and by this I mean idiots, because that is what we are; animals with delusions of grandeur) assume that we can take care of the planet and become our own 'gods' ?
"We'll save this, we'll stop that. Bla bla….".
Fuck off!
What's all this 'we' business?
If you want to spend your pathetic and ultimately pointless existence 'fighting for a cause' go ahead. And then what? You die, and none of it has mattered one bit.

Humans are animals, and I for one couldn't give a shit if we became extinct.
I am more concerned about the fact that Arsenal are lagging behind in the Premier League.

Extinction is death, death is extinction. Death is life, so life must be extinction.
If you think about it, every time a human dies, a percentage (however minuscule) of our planet's species and particular genetic make-up has gone forever.

Extinction IS life!

Let's rejoice . If you want to really live, kill!

Just don't blame me if you get arrested (which by the way is so 20th century - anyone with a criminal record is obviuosly a moron. Getting caught for a crime is like going for a shit without ensuring that an adequate supply of toilet paper is present beforehand).

A little violence never hurt anyone.

Wednesday night is allright

Spent all day yesterday moping around at work, generally feeling sorry for myself and avoiding any employment-related tasks. The last thing I wanted to do was to go see Maximo Park and the Kaiser Chiefs at Brixton Academy, and most of my afternoon was indeed spent trying to devise a means of getting out of it. I had no money to my name, not even enough to catch a bus, so my options were pretty shit. Manus reneged and announced he wasn't going to go, which left myself and the Professor. When I spoke to him, he was already halfway towards London, so it was too late for me to cancel. I made some pasta, rolled a joint and necked a couple of valiums. Still not even remotely psyched about going to a gig I had been looking forward too for a long time, I set off on foot. Brixton is not exactly around the corner from where I live, but what choice did I have? In a moment of brilliance, I arranged to meet the Professor at Tottenham Court Road, so he could lend me some cash and we could go from there. A brisk walk and half a bottle of Buckfast later, and I was greeted by the Professor himself on the corner of Oxford Street and Charing Cross Road. He had beers and money, so we set off towards Brixton. On the tube we talked shit and finished the rest of the Buckfast. As we were heading up the escalators at Brixton station, I overheard a strange conversation between junkie and dealer:

Dealer: ..it's up to you - there's about 40 old bill outside
Junkie: ..(paranoid) hmmmm
Dealer: two for forty, I won't stick around

I never got a chance to hear if the procurement took place, or indeed what specific kind of contraband was on offer. The dealer was right, though. The entrance to Brixton tube station was brimming with police and plain-clothes officers. I took some more valium and we broke open more beers. At this stage I had completely forgotten about the gig, I was just enjoying myself, street drinking in Brixton. We tried to shift Manus' ticket, whilst trying hard not to come across as touts (the Professor had a significant amount of valiums on his person). I went to a shop and bought two big bottles of San Miguel, which was a stupid move considering it was already 8.30pm at this time , I was more than tipsy and we hadn't even been in the vicinity of Brixton academy. When we finally entered the venue, we realised that we had mistakenly bought seated tickets. At this stage I was roaringly drunk so I didn't really care. We had lost track of time, and missed Maximo Park's set completely, which in retrospect was dumb. The Kaiser Chiefs played, and played well. The professor snuck downstairs for some action in the heaving throng of the pit whilst I tried not to throw up.
Post gig we tried to score some drugs, but got ripped off. Back on the tube north of the river style. Made our exit at Old Street, where the Professor ran into an old acquaintance, and this time we had more luck with the drugs. 4am I had to concede and collapsed in bed, after having tried to rouse the professor from what seemed like an extremely unpleasant position into which he had let himself collapse. This morning I felt like shit, showed up 20 minutes late for work and began my seemingly daily routine of sweating alcohol through my nicotine stained skin whilst trying to appreciate a deadline.

It was a great fucking night!

Virtual Laundromat

Thanks to Manus for the link

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/4374610.stm

The scope here is endless; - does this represent the ultimate way of laundering money?
I could sell £1m of cocaine in real life to another player. In the game he then buys a £1m worth of virtual goods for virtual cash, which I then can turn into real money. No paper trail, no money physically exchanging hands. You can keep your cash stashed online, away from the Inland Revenue, banks and the authorities. I will certainly look into it J

I am skint (again)

Just pissed off again. One of those days, one of those days of which there seems to be too many.
Don't feel in control of my life.
I know what steps I need to take to gain that control, but as soon as I return from work those plans are scuppered.
Once again I just exist, drifting vapidly along in an information age vacuum .
I want closure.
Not for a specific purpose, mind
you, but a total closure. An end. All I want to do is disappear, run away,
escape, cease to exist.
Three and a half hours until Miller time.
So many things I should be getting on with outside of this excruciatingly dull employment; so little chance of me doing them. There is always an obvious answer to every dilemma in life, no matter how simple or complex. Once realised, this is a fact that makes living a tepid, pay-by-numbers' affair.

I know a girl called 'Pam

Life isn't all sex drugs and rock and roll. I've engaged in activities that, apart from the fact they al involve drug-taking, have had absolutely nothing to do with sex or rock and roll. Last night I took Scunthorpe into the First Division, had three valium's, an uneven number of joints and went to bed dreaming of the Finnish transfer market. Woke up, late, with gunk covering my eyes and a 'zepam haze covering my mind. Manage to druggedly drag myself out of bed and into some clothes on autopilot, not even bothering anymore to check for unwanted body odours. Not that it would have mattered; today's deodorants can cover most tracks. So now here I am at work,, barely able to speak and definitely not intending to. Can't wait until 5.30pm when I can do it all over again.
Today's main plan of action must be as follows:
I will continuously call support services and ask them where the number nine is on my telephone key-pad.

So this is christmas?

Anyone else feel like shooting themselves today?
Sure, if living is pointless, so is being dead.
But I am sick of eating, sleeping, shitting, laughing, crying, wanking, lying and trying.
I am even sick of ranting.
Ahh… to die before one's time... How great it would be!

Other than that life is good.
Work sucks, 99% of my colleagues are dickheads, summer is over, I am broke, and I am only awake when I'm asleep.

Science isn't worth the litmus paper it's printed on. We go through such lengths to prolong and enhance our lives, but we still all die.

Fuck it.

Defenestration

A great word with great history:

Two incidents in the history of Bohemia are known as the Defenestrations of Prague, the first in 1419 and the second in 1618 (though the second is generally considered The Defenestration of Prague). Both helped to trigger prolonged conflict within Bohemia and beyond. (A defenestration is an act of throwing someone or something out of a window.)

The First Defenestration of Prague involved the killing of seven members of the hostile city council by a crowd of radical Czech Hussites on July 30, 1419. The prolonged Hussite Wars broke out shortly afterward, lasting until 1436.

The Second Defenestration of Prague was an event central to the initiation of the Thirty Years' War in 1618. Some of the Bohemian aristocracy was effectively in revolt following the 1617 election of Ferdinand, Duke of Styria and a Catholic, to become the successor King of Bohemia. In 1617, Roman Catholic officials ordered the construction of some Protestant chapels (on land the Catholic clergy claimed belonged to them) to cease, which Protestants (saying it was royal, not Catholic Church, land and thus available for their own use) interpreted as a violation of the right of freedom of religious expression as granted in the Letter of Majesty that had been issued by Emperor Rudolf II in 1609. They feared that the fiercely Catholic Ferdinand would revoke the Protestant rights altogether once he came to the throne. At Prague Castle on May 23, 1618, an assembly of Protestants tried two Imperial governors, Wilhelm Graf Slavata (1572 - 1652) and Jaroslav Borzita Graf von Martinicz (1582 - 1649), for violating the Letter of Majesty, found them guilty and threw them, together with their scribe Fabricius, out of the high castle windows, where they landed on a large and conveniently-placed pile of manure. Both survived.

Roman Catholic Imperial officials claimed that they survived due to the mercy of benevolent angels assisting the righteousness of the Catholic cause. Protestant pamphleteers asserted that their survival had more to do with the horse manure in which they landed.

(information found on Wikipedia.org)

China enter a new K-hole

"Chinese police have uncovered the largest international ketamine smuggling in China since 1949, seizing 1,010 kilograms of ketamine, according to a spokesman for China's Ministry of Public Security. Chinese police got information in July that an international drug trafficking gang planned to smuggle more than one ton of ketamine from India to Chinese mainland. The drug was hidden in 700 barrels of chemical material and transported from India's Bombay to Yantai, in east China's Shangdong province, via Singapore and the Republic of Korea. The smugglers planned to transport the drug to south China's Guangdong Province for sale".

http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200510/12/eng20051012_213996.html

One ton????

Jesus Christ that is a lot of K.
In my estimation it would have a street value in the UK of £10.1million. Either China has an unusual amount of animals in need of anastethics, or thousands of filthy Spanish and Polish squatters have moved to Asia.