0 8 / 1 2 / 0 5:
'i a m a 3 5 y e a r o l d d e a d h e r m a p h r o d i t e'

 

"life does not cease to be funny when someone dies, as it does not cease to be serious when people laugh."

- george bernard shaw

on the eve of my (if-you-can-believe-it-i'm-not-sure-i-can) 35th birthday, some friends and i decide that steadfastly absurd is the way to go and so take a trip to the small broadgate ice rink. late due to work, the venerable gude sits at the side and mocks... until that is he is accosted by a group of young white-trash-to-the-bone girls, who ask him to take their picture. he agrees once but is then pestered to the point that he feels the need to tell them to "fuck off". they immediately 'go all jerry springer on his ass', wagging their fingers and shaking their heads on their necks in that i could never tire of hitting you with a pick handle kind of way. kevin laughs when i skate unsteadily over and ask what's going on. "it's just the children" he says. "i ain't no child, i'm a woman," one of them shrieks "i'm seventeen tomorra." great, i thought, we share a birthday; that fucks the concept of astrology neatly in the backside doesn't it? this girl's name was, if you can believe it, lacey (though probably spelt l-a-c-i, with a small heart drawn over the i -i'm guessing), a thin blonde puppet of a girl who appeared after brief conversation to have the i.q. of a damp rag. one of her friends had the word precious on the arse of her blue jeans in diamonte. ladies and gentlemen, i give you the children: our future.

and yes i fell over. once. on the last lap.

"there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

- from 'hamlet' (act ii, scene ii) by william shakespeare

the television recently decided to go 'all poltergeist' on me, turning itself off and then on again for seemingly no reason at all. thankfully it's rented and so (unlike some i could mention, ahem) if it goes wrong then a little man appears to fiddle with it. and so there i sit on my birthday, waiting for the gimp that's been dispatched to fix the thing but of course when he gets here, the bastard thing decides to behave itself, making us out to be liars (no really, there's nothing wrong with the telly, we just wanted company). so this chap sits down and waits, watching the television, making imbecilic smalltalk. i'm beginning to think he's moved in when he tells us that if he doesn't see it go wrong then there's nothing he can do... effectively suggesting that we just made it up 'for a laugh'. he suggests that maybe we upgrade to a more expensive package. fucker must be on a percentage, i thought. turns out, after hostess elisabeth talks to the lady on the phone, that we can upgrade for less (though i'm not sure that he knew this) and so that's what we do.

the two blokes that deliver the new television carry it in whilst having a fairly intense discussion about tracksuit bottoms, one stating that "them tight ones are so gay man, they're crazy gay". 'crazy gay' has now become my saying of the week, to be used in as many instances as possible. it's so cold outside that when they bring it in, there's condensation all over the screen. initially the new television picture looks worse than the old one, grainier, more pixelated, and just as i begin to worry about that, it too switches itself off! i turn it back on and later, the screen still damp, it makes a loud cracking sound. a little worrying. i'm thinking a good motto to live by would be 'never switch on a wet telly'. it sounds so obvious when you say it out loud doesn't it?

for my birthday my friend sharon bought me, from her trip to las vegas, a t-shirt which reads:

'i like you, i'll kill you last'.

erroneously thinking it was a good idea, i recently bought the 2004 album by suicide 'why be blue?' from sister ray's '25% off everything until we move just down the road' sale. sadly it turns out to be at best extremely patchy, and at worst plain rubbish. they've beefed up their famously stark and spare production into a kind of popp-ish muddy nonsense. they seem to have finally started making music that befits their advanced age... shame. artistic drop off strikes again. thankfully i also bought 'operation mind control' by funkturm, which is a cracking cd. life... gives with one hand, takes away with the other...

my mum and dad have just got back from their 'holiday of a lifetime' to egypt. by all accounts a good time was had by all, um... hence the alarming photos of them 'going native':


(faces have been obscured to protect the innocent)

apparently while they were there, statues of akhenaten reminded everyone of me:

yeah, not particularly flattering is it? father to the 'famous' tutankamun, husband to the amusingly named nefertiti, akhenaten was known as 'the heretic king' (which i quite like), because he switched the country from polytheism to monotheism, that is, worship of the sun as the only god. of course it's always nice to be associated with all things heretical but the fact that some suggest he was a hermaphrodite, or that he suffered from any one of a number of genetic deformities takes the shine a little off the association. as well as the, shall we say 'equine' face, he was often depicted with a big belly and fat legs... maybe my parents are trying to tell me something?

it struck me yesterday, while reading 'love all the people -letters, lyrics, routines' by bill hicks, that i am now three years older than he was when he died. for some reason that depresses me much more than the actual aging process itself.

""when we go to a restaurant we always ask to be seated away from any children. the waitress/hostess always seems to do the best they can and have never acted like it was a bizarre, or out of line request to make. only one time in 3-4 years was i asked "why?" i simply joked: "court order." "

- posted on sensibleerection.com by 'wikerjoe'
(o boy am i gonna use that one)

flipping through channels we came across an old black and white groucho marx tv program from the 60s. 'you bet your life' was basically a simple quiz show for couples. interviewing one couple groucho asks the wife "does he help you around the house?" and then before she can answer adds "or do you walk about on your own?"

"are you concerned about where you go to arrive if you dig a very deep straight infinitous hole on earth? your problems are solved!" - www.digtootherside.cjb.net
(i'm not entirley convinced that '
infinitous' is really a word...)

interactive psychedelic fun with science! - www.falstad.com/mathphysics.html

me-ism #807: i tell a room of colleagues that i couldn't possibly care less if kylie minogue dies, my logic being that people die every day of the same thing and i don't care about them so why should i about some jumped up talentless shackle dragger with the arse of a fourteen year old boy? the room goes quiet. and then someone says the inevitable words "my mother died of breast cancer".

recommended: (audio) 'no man may put asunder: 7 fruitful and seamless unions' -cd- by the hafler trio / (comestible) nandos / (visual) people falling over on the ice / (sensorial) stepping out of ice skates

reviled: (audio) 'why be blue?' -cd- by suicide / (comestible) mushrooms / (visual) condensation on my bloody window / (sensorial) the impending 5 a.m. alarm call tomorrow

i'd wish you a merry christmas but you know i wouldn't mean it... and i'm not convinced you'd know what to do with it if it materialised anyway.

and so... off to new york...