Happy New Year

The falling alcohol empire is here to hold you,

Rolling out and haunted til it sinks ..

So 2011 is nearly finished and done with, certainly a contender for being one of the best years so far. Went out for some pre-celebrations in Huddersfield last night, involving being let into Camel Club for free after bantering with the manager outside, fat cigars at the Parish and an 8 and a half mile walk home.

For the sake of what's expected, I'll throw down some New Years resolutions.

• Walk back from Huddersfield less
• Do Uni work in the daytime; be less nocturnal
• Make Kellie more tea first thing in the morning
• Teach the dog to speak German

Stay classy, 2012.

Pure laziness

Up on melancholy hill,

There's a plastic tree,

Are you here with me?

Just looking out on the day of another dream ..

Hello, how are you on this goodest of thursdays?

Uni work over christmas should be illegal. Granted, I'm not in the same position as other people who have January exams on top of essays and stuff, but seriously, it's still balls. The really annoying thing is comparing how fastidious I was at uni to how I am now. My good buddy Alex came round the other day to do some work. We averaged 40 words an hour. I used to work a lot and get stuff done, but now that the work output's lost its momentum, all I really want to do is put a bullet in its head because its broken its leg.

I think the second part of that sentence could be a decent rap lyric. Any young, black, fledgling rappers who might be reading, feel free to use that one. Just credit me on the back of the CD. Motherfucker.

I've gotten lazy on all fronts recently. Well, I was already lazy, so I don't know what that means I've become. I blame Leeds for this feeling of waking up post 10.30 am and not feeling like doing squat all day. I keep telling myself that these essays aren't gonna write themselves, but damn, you try writing 2000 words in German about the link between the German student movement and black power in America. Not gonna happen.

That said, home is forcing me to live with some semblance of reality, namely eating well and not taking the occasional piss in the sink because it's the closest thing with a drain.



Boxing day emails

But there's one thing I know,

The blues he sends to meet me won't defeat me,

It won't be long til happiness steps up to greet me ..

Happy boxing day everyone. Go on, go and pick at yesterdays leftovers. Pick at them good.

I just checked my old email account, the one that I haven't used or checked in about 6 months. It's the one we all have, the one we made when we were 14 with an email address that was so hilarious or relevant at the time which you look back on now and want to kick your childhod self. Anyway, the account was full of junk. My favourite ones were "Did asbestos cause bladder cancer? You may receive compensation" and "Would you be a good lawyer?"

I would be a crap lawyer. When I'm under pressure, I say ridiculous shit and then try and dig my way out, only most of the time I lose momentum or interest and don't really stick to my guns anymore. Then later, after I've given it a little thought, I can formulate some pretty good rational arguments. But that still wouldn't be great for a lawyer, because by that time my client would probably be getting raped in the prison shower.

I've nothing else really to say today, because vegging out, eating food and watching telly doesn't really conjure up noteworthy stories. I can't really think of anything further.

I love my lady lumps.

What an awesome line. I imagine that's a pretty inspiring line for women everywhere.

Christmas shopping couples

Birds singin' in the sycamore trees,

Dream a little dream of me ..

It's been brought to my attention that a fair few people read this occasionally and there are some things I say which apparently I should have held back on, lest people see me in a new, frightening light. Since freedom of speech is still a liberty in its own right, the only viable alternative would be to start a new, super secret blog with one of those "offensive material" disclaimers, in which to share all the things that people don't like here.

Couples can be incredibly annoying, right? Annoying couples seem to be far more abundant in Huddersfield than in Leeds. People who feel the need to do absurd couple stuff in public suck. I think we can make 3 distinct categories, most of which can be seen around McDonalds and Poundland in Huddersfield.

1. The "let's make out in public so people can learn from us" couple - probably the most annoying of the three, usually 16 year olds at Greenhead college. They kiss excessively, feeling each other up, to affirm just how in love they are. Please, cut out your tongues so I can put my cigarette out on them.

2. The "we replace each others names with 'baby' or 'sweety'" couple - "Baby, we bought the wrong one", "Well then baby, let's go and take it back" "Aw baby, but then I have to go back to the shop" "It's alright sweety, I'll come with you."

Baby, for the love of everyone who isn't you, shut the fuck up. Obsessive use of baby isn't cute, it's just irritating.

3. The "we're fighting in public but you're not meant to notice" couple - I'd just come out of waterstones in Huddersfield the other day and I heard the line "fuck you and that skanky bitch whore". Now call me Curious George, but hearing the words fuck, skanky, whore and bitch all in the same sentence does just pique my curiosity.

And I glanced at them as I walked past to try and catch a look at the happy pair, and the speaker, some scary looking chav-hag, politely asks if I want to "mind my own fucking business". Mind my own business? Listen up Peggy Sue, last I checked Jeremy Kyle wasn't staging a fucking drop-in session on Huddersfield high street. Do it in the privacy of your own insanity.

It's christmas eve tomorrow, so I'm gonna take this opportunity to wish everyone a happy christmas. I hope you get everything you asked for and wake up with a happy hangover.

Man crush.

She will always be the only thing

That comes between me and the awful sting,

That comes from living in a world that's so damn mean ..

Whaddup my African-Americans. Its 7am and I'm at uni. Word.

I feel it's been a while since I posted anything at all relevant or interesting on here for a while, unlike the old days when things were more fun, and I feel sad about that. It's not because I imagine anyone to be sitting there just mashing 'refresh' in the hope of something noteworthy (apart from Kellie, maybe) and sighing dramatically at anyone within earshot.* It's just because I know that uni won't finish for another 4 or 5 months, so this predicament isn't likely to be remedied anytime soon.

*I hate people that do this. Anyone else hate this? In public, when somethings wrong, and people try and make eye contact with you and draw you into their crazy. Aww, what's matter? Queue moving a bit slowly? Train delayed by 6 and a half minutes? I'm not thrilled about it either mate, but I'm not gonna make eye contact with you just so you can roll your eyes at me or do your dramatic sigh and make you think that we're in some little pissed-off club together.

Anyway, here I am, typing to keep the fires alive. You're important to me baby. Hows your week been so far? Mine's been fine.

I went to Hyde Park Picture House today to watch a film called 50/50. If you haven't seen it, do. It has Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen in it. How amazing a combination is that? The only thing it really proved is that Joseph Gordon-Levitt IS my man-crush. Remember this. If I stop fancying girls, JGL is the one I will go gay for. He is my man. It's a long shot, but jesus.

Disclaimer: open admittance of heterosexuality upon making a gay joke does not, in this case, make me gay by default.

That's another thing I like actually. Watching gay blokes pretend they're straight. Or, even funnier, watching straight guys affirm just how fucking not gay they are by emphasising it strenuously in front of everyone. Almost like I just did, but in real life; it's not as funny or effective in blog form. I'd never do it for real. Man, I'd rather be gay than straight and insecure.

I've just finished the first 1000 words of my dissertation, which I'm gonna email off tomorrow with fresh eyes. I know this is the first draft of first drafts, as it were (though a large part of me just says this to rationalise it somehow in my head), but these first 1000 words are probably shit.

leave the door open yeah?

I've been working on a cocktail called Grounds for Divorce,

WhhoooOOOOooooOOOOOoooooahhh ...

Doubt comes in on sticks but then he kicks like a horse,

WhhoooOOOOooooOOOOOoooooahhh ...

I like to think I've done that song justice with the way I typed the lyrics.

Are you one of those people who goes to other people's houses, or maybe even just at home, who goes for a pee and then shuts the door behind themself when they leave? If so, why do you do that? If someone else needs a wee, they're gonna come along, see that ol' closed door and assume its occupied. I understand if you'd just been for a dump, but just a pee? How bad can that smell?

If you are one of these people, do desperate toilet-goers a favour and stop it.

Gay Italian dads

When I wake up in the morning, love,

And the sunshine hurts my eyes,

And something without warning, love,

Bears heavy on my mind ..

I'm back in my favourite computer cluster again.

I was working earlier when two blokes and a little kid came in. This was a pretty odd sight at 8pm in a university computer cluster, but I didn't really question it. The blokes were maybe mature students and as far as I'm aware, gay and speaking Italian. The little kid spoke English and Italian and didn't seem to have a sexual preference.

One of the Italian guys, who we will call Luigi, is wearing this shirt with "God made weed. Figure that out!" written on it. Figure out how god made weed? I don't get it. The other one, who we'll call Mario, had a t-shirt with "AMSTERDAM" written on it. It gave me an idea for a sitcom called "My two gay Italian dads who like to get high". The kid, about 5, who we'll call Tony, thankfully wore a shirt without a stoner motif.

The guy they sat next to was British. He was alone in here, like me, with these thick black chunky glasses and a little mini-fro. He looked like he read Hemingway and had aspirations to be a poet or novelist.

Anyhow, they're all sitting there in the row in front. Luigi reaches into his bag and started taking out some food.

Now, I'm all for breaking the 'no food and drink' rules in computer clusters, but this was really untrue. Out of the bag came sandwiches, big bags of kettle chips, fruit, one of those tubs of mini-flapjacks, a flask, 2 cans of Relentless and other assorted bits. It was like the Mary Poppins bag; it could almost have been a stunt. Hemingway, unlike me and 10 or so other people in the cluster who are watching with our mouths slightly open at the sight of all this food (munchies joke, anyone?) continues to work, apparently oblivious.

Mario then takes a can of Relentless, and hands it to Tony. The thing had either been shaken up good and proper or Tony was shit at opening cans, because without warning the thing suddenly fizzes out and over and a jet of energy drink hits Hemingway squarely in the face. Upon seeing this, the kid goes "ooh" and drops the can, where it fizzes and spills round on the floor, meaning Hemingway has to jump up in full view of the cluster, dripping Relentless, to avoid it. This was where the humiliation factor kicked in.

I felt bad for the guy, but he took it pretty well. You can't really get mad at a cute little kid in a computer room, not least one with two mysterious high Italian dads. They're just unpredictable. And then Mario tried to laugh it off a bit, and Luigi joined in, which seemed a little too optimistic, but they were probably high, who can blame them?

The saddest part was that it happened to this guy. It could have happened to anyone else in that cluster. If it had been a group of guys, they'd have got a kick and more of a laugh out of it. If it was a girl, everyone would have rushed to her aid. But instead it was Hemingway, probably a Fresher, a little self-conscious, maybe the first time he's dared to venture out of his halls to a computer cluster, and the first thing that happens is he gets sprayed in the head by a kids can of energy drink, in front of a small crowd.

They say university can be tough but no-one deserves to be humiliated by an Italian kid with his two gay dads that are high.

Euthanasia and my new haircut

Like a bird on the wire,

Like a drunk in a midnight choir,

I have tried in my way to be free ..

So I got a haircut recently, months and months after I promised myself one. I had it done in Huddersfield, as always, purely because it's the same woman and we have crappy hairdresser conversations that amount to nothing but pass the time beautifully. It must've been the 5th or 6th time she's done it now and although I still haven't got to the point where I can stroll in and ask for "the usual", she still always asks "what are we having today then?" in a way which suggests she can sense the same-old answer.

One day I'll surprise her. I'll go back in about 4 or 5 months and she'll be all "What's it gonna be this time?" and I'll respond with "Hitler youth". Just for the reaction. Or challenge her; "Yeah, I'd like two donkeys fucking under a sunset shaved into the back".

The only thing I've really learnt is that my new shorter hair doesn't respond well to spending the day under a bobble hat.

Recent stats checks show a hit yesterday from getdentalimplantsinfo.com" and 3 hits for "80s crisps". These don't quite measure up to the current champion "european romantic mild porn" which came up a few months back, but they're the best ones of late.

When I was roaming round uni earlier, I caught the briefest of snippets of a conversation of two people walking by. All I heard was "yeah, but the worst thing that can happen is you'll die". I wanted to know what came before that, and after a lot of walking-home-deliberation, it strikes me that there aren't a great many scenarios where dying is the worst thing. I feel worse things would be stuff like paralysis, brain damage, becoming a vegetable trapped in your body or maybe a coma.

I feel I can't bring much to the euthanasia debate. In my opinion, we should pull the plug. I understand the family and friends holding out for a glimmer of hope; thats pretty much by-the-by. I don't really understand the religious angles on this sort of thing, which is that we shouldn't do it because only God can take a life. To these people I say: maybe God is saying "hey, can you pull the plug? I've been trying to take this person for 5 years but you keep feeding them."

Consider this my will. If that ever happens to me, I wouldn't like to be kept alive. I'd feel bad for my family having to take care of me. Unless Kellie or Dan offer to adopt me, then just pull the plug.

I have an idea for a sitcom about a guy in a coma and his carer, and whenever the carer's back's turned, the coma guy gets up to zany antics behind his back. But, you ask, how does he do zany stuff when he's in a coma? That's it! He's not really in a coma! The other guy just thinks he is! When his back's turned, zany shit goes down! "Zany" is how critics will describe this sitcom!

There will also be a neighbour, some sassy precocious black kid who knows the coma guy's secret. He'll be played by Jaden Smith. He'll walk in and go "What up, veg?" to which coma guy will respond "West-siiiiiiide" because thats how he imagines black kids talk. And inbetween the zany antics, there'll be life lessons about not judging people because of the colour of their skin, played out in the form of the banter between coma guy and the black kid, Tyrone.

Helmed by J.J.Abrams, this will be bold television.

Christmas

I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now,

But the airwaves are clean and there's nobody singing to me now ..

That film Knowing was on telly the other night. What an anti-climax that was.

It started off well, with some great special effects and some half decent acting. And then somewhere down the line, somebody stole the film's plot, ate it, shat it out and wiped it all over the last third or so of the film. Not since Kubrick has there been such a poor attempt to meld science fiction, piss-poor science and a healthy religious undertone in a way which doesn't scream 'trying too hard'.

The only redeeming feature was watching the poorly-executed shebang of a last third being incinerated by a solar flare. Oh, and the fucking terrifying disaster scenes. Like, genuinely. That bit with the plane messed me up good and proper.

For the sake of clarity, here is my christmas list 2011.

• Modern Warfare 3. Yeah, I'm a slave to Call of Duty but come on. That shit is good.
• A new belt. My current knackered one is still clinging to life but it's got past the stage where I can pretend it's vintage.

That's actually it so far. I'll keep updating as things come to mind.

It's come round to that point on the eve of christmassy stuff being acceptable where the political correctness thing comes into play. I forget where I read it this time round, but somewhere, the debates been re-opened as to the use of the word 'christmas' as opposed to such religion-neutral phrases as "The Winter Festival" or "The festive season". Stuff like this comes around each year because some hardcore atheist or Shinto worshipper tries to sue their local council for wishing them a merry christmas.

I know the governments not supposed to endorse one religion over another, but really, who fucking cares? Christmas isn't a religious holiday any more, it is a celebration of consumerism, of our love for material goods, a statement of our belief in capitalism. Gifts are always nice. Gifts are a sign of how much we love people. True, the price tag probably doesn't always equate to the amount of love being given, but I imagine generally there's some correlation. In the words of cheapskates throughout history the world over, it's the thought that counts.

The one regret I always have at christmas is the whole santa complex. How great did that used to make christmas? As a child, I believed both of those lies: number 1, that santa exists and number 2, that he will bring you presents if you're good. This lie began to unravel when you went to school a week later and you compared with the kids who were complete gobshites and they'd always got the best stuff (no disrespect to my parents, who always did great at christmas).

The paradoxical opposite of most peoples paranoid fantasies of losing all their stuff: an overweight guy breaks into your house to give you things.

But in the days when santa was real, you often began to wonder what you'd done wrong, or what kind of a fat cruel bastard santa was to reward these kids better than you.

I just had a brainwave; is that meant to be the message to set kids up for later life? If you do good, you'll be rewarded accordingly? Wow, I never even considered that til I spelt everything out. But meh, the only thing reality really seems to preach is that the cirumstances of your birth are the only real factor that affects what you get in life.

Professors and Kellie

If I could, then I would,

I'll go wherever you will go,

Way up high or down low,

I'll go wherever you will go  ..

We just had a seminar with two of the staff from our German department who are professors. Paul Cooke and Stuart Taberner. They're googleable, their list of books is longer than my lifes achievements. It was actually a really awesome seminar with lots of debating and shit, although it did just reinforce just how depressingly clever people can be and made me feel like a spaz.

In the first half, we were looking at pictures of corpses being cleared up in Auschwitz and bodies piled up after the firebombing of Dresden, debating what it meant to be a victim and what defined a clear-cut perpetrator. We had an hour of being mindfucked in this way, mainly involving us saying stuff which we thought sounded clever, usually followed by Stuart handing out shovels for us to dig our way out with. In the end, after some pretty good debating, we'd got to the point that we were just shouting out agreements to his logical sounding arguments until he pointed out that we'd all pretty much just relativised the Holocaust and made it sound acceptable. Don't fuck with professors.

I also managed to work in that I didn't like Pearl Harbor. Not everyone was impressed with that.

And now I'm back in the Bragg cluster, which has probably absorbed a part of me into it's permanent memory, because Kellie's writing an essay on a film and is waiting for me to post stuff about my life to distract her at the end of every paragraph she writes. The best part is, she's trusting me to hand the essay in for her tomorrow because she's cavorting around in London ill.

DISCLAIMER: Contrary to popular belief, Kellie is not scouse.

People are ridiculous at 4am

It's gonn' rain down like black hell,

You don't know what it's like to be dead,

I'mma teach you now, teach you well,

It's gonn' rain down like black hell ..

Top story on BBC news: "Justin Timberlake has kept a promise he made to a member of the US Armed Forces by escorting her to a ball on Saturday night".

Thank goodness for that.

I'm back at uni because my sleeping patterns still buggered. It's been another corker so far.

As I was walking into uni about an hour ago, some bloke shouted "hey!" as I got on campus. I had the initial pang of 'shit I'm about to get mugged' feeling you get just because you're alone and it's dark. I turned round and there was a guy over the road wearing a bicycle helmet but without a bike. I looked at him and he shouted "D'you know if there's a shop open near here?" And I told him no, with the most condescending look I could muster, the facial equivalent of "why are you asking, its 3 in the fucking morning", and "where's your bicycle you helmet-wearing moron?"

Not 5 minutes into reaching the cluster and logging on, another guy walks in and slumps into the chair next to mine. Alarm bells are ringing again because there are 40 other free computers in a room half the size of a sports hall. Am I about to get mugged in a computer cluster? Then he goes "Man, I've had such a terrible night". I think he was moving along the lines of me to follow up with "Aw, y'wanna talk about it champ?", but when its 4am and I'm in the swing of working, I don't really give two shits about anything short of a buffet opening outside.

Anyway, I think I grunted, probably with my eyebrows raised a little too high. Our conversation went as follows.

Guy: Yeah, sorry to bother you, I've just had a really terrible night.

Me: Uh-huh.

Awkward silence

Guy: Yeah, it's just been really bad.

Me: Shit ... (Silence goes on too long) .. what happened?

Guy: Just about everything (I fucking hate this response)

Me: Just before you carry on, nobody's died right? I dunno how to handle stuff like that.

Awkward silence. Guy just stares off into space. I start thinking oh fucknuts, someones died.

Guy: No, no-ones died. I just had a big argument with my girlfriend .. (dramatic pause, big intake of breath) .. it turns out she's pregnant.

Me, expecting something more overwhelming: .. Uh-huh .. (Regain composure) .. Ahh shit.

Guy: Yeah ..

Awkward silence

Me: There's worse things could happen though, right?

Guy: .. I guess.

And then he left, leaving me with an all too brief feeling of 'am I a terrible person?' I feel bad for his predicament but jesus he was annoying. There are worse things in the world than a pregnant girlfriend. Unless it's not his. Or maybe she has a very angry conservative family who've been saving her for marriage. Or maybe she's not pregnant at all, she was just using it as blackmail in the heat of their argument. Man, I should write a sitcom for these people.

One thing I realised during the beginning of the conversation was that I carried the thing on. There's a technique apparently that high pressure salesman use when trying to make a sale: at the end of their pitch, the salesman says nothing, and if the customer feels the need to continue the conversation and say something, the guy is more likely to make a sale. Apparently I'd be crap at rebuffing sales.

Just to deviate before I finish up I had a dream the other week where me and my good buddy Dan were working together in an office somewhere, and on that particular day, Hitler started working at the office. All I remember is that me and Dan were standing in some generic office environment and Dan turns to me and says, perfectly seriously "So, do we just call him Hitler or what?". I'm pretty sure this is one of the best dreams I've ever had.

Last thing: I also have to walk past some student halls on the way to the computer room I use. There was just general fresher noise as I went by, but as I got to the end, somebody started blasting out christmas music. It's November 15th. The fucking 15th. I enjoy christmassy music; it makes me want to frolic and reminds me of childhood, but this is entirely too early for christmas music. It's like someone singing you happy birthday a month and a half early. It's out of control. This is the time when we actually need the Grinch to steal christmas, or at the very least borrow it and then give it us back in a month or so.

Until it's colder, and December, I'll endeavour to be that Grinch.

Bert

It was twenty years ago today,

Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play,

They've been going in and out of style,

But they're guaranteed to raise a smile ..

Hey there. I'm in the library at uni and holy crap its half past 3 in the morning. That's actually real-time typing surprise there, I thought it was earlier than that. In any case, the work's going fantastic. Five minutes ago I yawned and a bit of drool landed on the keyboard.

Apart from being distracted by the internet, there's a bloke here in this computer cluster over the other side of the room who is having a phone call in French and also looks just like Bert from Sesame Street. If I had a camera I'd take a picture for you because I keep glancing across at him and suppressing giggles.

I mean really, all this guy needs is a rubber duck and a funny voice and he's Bert.

Gym guys

Let me take you down, cos I'm going to

Strawberry fields ..

I'm writing between seminars to report something ridiculous. I want it to be known from the outset that this is absolutely truthful and I'm re-telling it to the best of my memory.

I was just hanging outside the union, when a bunch of very sweaty gym guys, wearing shorts and t-shirts, one with a towel round his neck came and stood near me, clearly having just finished a work out. They started chatting, and to cut a long story short, one of the guys was very into rowing and weightlifting, and after a really intense workout probably involving a lot of sweating and grunting and adrenaline, he'd take a modified form of GHB, or the date rape drug, to bring him back down a bit. A quick bit of research online tells me this technique isn't actually as far-fetched as it sounds. This is kinda what grabbed my attention.

Anyway, they started talking about how it could be used as a date rape drug. The first guys just kind of have a general debate, and the weight-lifter rowing guy suddenly pipes up with - no word of a lie -:

"I have no idea why anyone would use it. Whenever I take it, it just makes me knackered, I'd hardly be in the mood to rape anyone."

. . .

Libya is free, or something

Some people go to church just to signify,

Trying to make a date with the neighbours wife,

Brother let me tell you sure as you're born,

You better leave that woman alone ..

Gaddafi is dead. In response to my previous post in which I told you all to be pro-active and be doing something awesome when he was killed, I'll have to confess that mine wasn't that awesome myself. I was eating a pasty between two German grammar classes. No doubt it was a good pasty, but still not the tale I'd have hoped for.

   

I'm back in the library at the moment, evidently working hard. We have a 51 page document in German to read and make notes on for Monday, which doesn't exactly make me want to cheer but at least it's one less thing to do "in a group" as seems to be the current trend for 4th year German at the university of Leeds, even in the giant, unmissable face of overwhelming student unenthusiasm for the idea.

When I was walking into uni, I walked past two kind of punky girls. Well, punky for this day and age. Say, Avril Lavigne in the early days sort of punky. One of them was telling her friend something very demonstratively, with lots of hand gestures.

"And we were all like yo. What the fuck is up with Pancho?"

 

I really wish I knew the rest of that story.

Uni is not the real world

Do the chairs in your parlor seem empty and bare?

Do you gaze at the doorstep and picture me there?

Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

Today is one of those days that I wish I was a heroin addict, purely because it would mean I wouldn't be sat in the library researching crap I'm not interested in, I'd be at home lying naked on the floor next to my messed up girlfriend wondering where our baby was.

I've managed to descend into that uni bubble after only 3 weeks, the one where you become so wrapped up in studying and reading and just having to think about stuff, that anything non-related seems weird and kind of liberating. Me and the housemates went to Morrisons the other day in the car, and the general unspoken concensus was that this was possibly the most exciting thing we've done since starting uni. It's not that Kirkstall Morrisons is any better than the others; rather, it just serves as a reminder that yes, there is a life outside of university which is wonderful and for real people, and yes, one day we'll be a part of it.

I've been drawing fire of late for going down the 'wishing away my days at university' path, to the tune of "ohh, some day in the future you'll be praying for the student lifestyle again". Undoubtedly I will, at least once in my life, but if I never have to sit through another 2 hour seminar of German grammar or do some needless group related task on something irrelevant in German, I will die in a good mood.

Have any of you ever experienced the awkward phenomenon of homeless people asking for the time? It happened to me yesterday when I was in town. Interacting with the homeless is one of those things which you try and avoid despite the rudimentary aspect of guilt, and I reckon we've become conditioned to the point that you shrug off their advances at the earliest opportunity or simply stride on while glancing at your phone.

But this homeless guy, the one that sits opposite HSBC down Park Row, managed to get the whole eye contact thing going on and comes out with "Do you have the time?" And then there's me, all caught up in the moment and I just say "sorry mate", because that is what you say unless you have change and/or aren't in a hurry. But then the question clicks and I give him the time, in case he has appointments to keep with other homeless guys, irregardless of the fact that if he were to sit 50m up or down the road, there'd be a big fuck-off clock for him to see. Who knows.

I'm sure there was more I wanted to say .. maybe I'll think of it later on. If you'll excuse me, I have work to go and hate.

4th Year

I wish I lived in the Golden Age,
Giving it up on the Broadway stage,
Hang with the rats and smoke cigars,
Have a break with Frank and count the stars ..

I love that song. It is a catchy little bastard. It's the one from the latest Heineken advert, which also seems to be doubling up as that songs music video, which apart from making me want to listen to it over and over again also makes me want a Heineken. Well played, advertising

I had my first seminar of my final year yesterday, which felt strange in a kind of 'beginning of the end' way, which although will be sort of sad to wave goodbye to will also be absolutely amazing, not just in the capacity of "I've achieved a half decent form of qualification", but rather that it marks the start of working in the real sense of the word, as opposed to playing the role of the student, which I feel is becoming a little cliched.

Today's my day off; I've been in the library since about 1pm writing up a report in German all about my year abroad and elaborating for somebody's benefit about how great it all was and how much of a wonderful human being it's made out of me. The bullshit gauge is currently hitting red and overloading, as I'm having a hard time not only with translating my thoughts into German, but coming up with thoughts worth reading about in the first place. I'm coming out with stuff like "my improvements in language come second to my personal development". Shit like that.

Tomorrow, wednesday, is my busy day, according to my timetable so this will invariably mean seeing more old faces, which is rather exciting, and being thrown a little more back into the swing of this year. I'm yet to find another module, which is really getting rather important now because the punishment for not signing onto one soon is an anvil hanging above me by a thread with the words "fail uni" daubed on the side. I've often lamented the numerous bureaucracies of university, but this one is the Beethoven's 5th of pure bullshit.

Internet distractions

Cause I love to live so pleasantly,

Live this life of luxury,
Lazing on a sunny afternoon,
In Summertime ..

The weather has got really shite of late, which I imagine is what's left of New York's recent tropical storm, except downgraded again to "very windy and with lots of spitty rain".

This week I've become nocturnal again. I managed this a few times in 2009/10, but this was at least 2 or 3 months into the academic year. This time round it's about a month before I've even started. I don't know if this is really "start as you mean to go on" material, but either way, it's really screwing with my head. I woke up at 10 past 6 in the evening today. I'd slept for 16 hours.

We had our internet installed last week, which I think is the main reason for me becoming nocturnal. The internet guy was a Geordie bloke, the kind that I only thought existed in anecdotes that people tell involving Geordie blokes, where they put on a propa Geordie accent to really accentuate the Geordieness. But no, they exist. It was mindblowing. He even said stuff like "why-aye" and "canny man". He finished with "gissies a ring on't morrow if there's summick wrong wi yer connection". Just beautiful.

So last night I downloaded and watched Black Swan and Million Dollar Baby. Black Swan was awesome and creepy in a way I wasn't really expecting, and although Mila Kunis is a very good actress in addition to being fucking gorgeous, she killed the film at the same time for me because every time she opens her mouth, it's just Meg Griffin again, which took any emotional whatnot right away.


Black Swan is supremely better than Million Dollar Baby. I'd heard good things, but it wasn't that good. It's sad and depressing, but that's about it. All it really proved is that Morgan Freeman, who is getting on a bit now, needs to make a film before he dies in which he plays a real, evil tosser. And not just the moody grizzled type like he is in Se7en, or a bit of a bastard like in Wanted. I mean a complete fucking prick. Because half the runtime of Million Dollar Baby is punctuated with Morgan Freeman's soft spoken black man narration to the point that you sit back and wait for the Shawshank Redemption music to begin. I'd write the 'bastard' film for him myself.

The best current working title is "Kitten stomper". Two hours of Morgan Freeman breaking into houses and catteries, incapacitating the owners, and then stomping on all the kittens. Helmed by Danny Boyle, this will be an excellent film.

"Ever since I was a little boy, I knew I just wanted to stomp on kittens. And I figured y'either get busy stomping, or y'get busy dying."

Yeah.

Now I'm gonna go to sainsbury's and buy something cheap and tasty for dinner. If they still have their '80 chicken nuggets for a fiver' deal on, I'm eating like a king tonight.

I'm a student again

I was born in the soul of misery,
And I never had me a name,
They just gave me a number when I was young ..

It's just struck me that it's been absolutely ages since I wrote on here, all the way back in Germany. I'm currently being bombarded on facebook with status updates that I posted in 2009/10, the ones of late all being me going "wow, germany!" There's a good deal of nostalgia kicking in. I miss that place.

Anyway, it'd be stupid to go into any detail about any of the zillion things which have happened, both globally and within my little carefree bubble, so I'll just list things that come to mind.

• LIBYA - so, the rebels finally took Tripoli, Gaddafi nowhere to be seen. The world now recognises a bunch of gun-toting muslims as the official government; Islam of course being a global cornerstone of tolerance and democracy. I will be taking bets in the next few days as to how many years of 'helping our rebel friends rebuild damaged country by funding them and giving them weapons' we see before we're at war with them.

• News of the World shuts down amid the phone hacking scandal. Murdoch senior is attacked with a pie. Questions arising - why did Rebecca Brooks keep her job when the entire rest of the company shut down? She must know some serious shit.
  

• A botched police operation which mainly seems to have involved the cops shooting at lots of the wrong things sparks riots in London, followed by uprisings of chavs in other parts of the country because the government can't tell them what to do anymore and to prove a point, we'll burn down the job centre because we don't have any jobs. Or something like that. This was probably the one time in my life that I prayed we'd taken a leaf out of Iran or Syria's book; how many people would have taken to the streets to put the front of Poundland through if there was a tank with live ammunition cruising around Croydon?

• Norway is introduced to something bad for the first time in 70 years after Anders Behring Breivik blows up a government building in Oslo before dressing up as a cop and massacring teenagers on an island. Followed a week later by a polar bear, less malevolence but still fucked up.

• The Space Shuttle programme comes to an end, with no alternative in sight for America to get back into space in the near future. Our new-found reliance on the Russkies begins somewhat tentatively as one of their new satellites crashes and a supply package to the ISS gets lost somewhere in the vacuum.

• My fourth year of university starts, dragging me kicking and screaming back into reality and the world of academia which I'm oh so fucking sick of by now. I don't dislike this lifestyle but after 16 years of reading books and being told I have to do things I don't really want to do, it really must be time for something new soon.

• Uni invariably means a new house, so this post is in partial celebration of finally setting up wireless internet, after a few teething problems. The new house is a bit in the ghetto and feels a little like Islamabad if you walk to the shop on a morning, but this is all a part of the big studenty adventure, right?

The only vaguely entertaining thing I can think of that isn't to do with shit that's been going on in the world is my trip to Sainsbury's last night. There was a guy in front of me, the very 'Leeds Uni Hyde Park guy', with a big long stripey cardigan and shorts with a bobble hat, because bobble hats are fucking acceptable now it's September, and he was paying all in change.

"£4.37", says the cashier.

"What, on the dot?" asks Hyde Park guy.

And the cashier said yes, even though I thought that had been a pretty stupid question and wanted the cashier to say something snide like "No, dickhead, I rounded it up to the nearest seven".

But he didn't, so I guess that was only entertaining in my head.

German telly

I have never dreamed it,
Have you ever dreamed a night like this?
I cannot believe it,
I may never see a night like this ..

Hey there. I'm still in Germany, and I'm watching a lot of telly.

German TV is a glorious mishmash of unending repeats and what is considered here 'normal' is what has been long accepted in most of the civilised world as "crap confined to during the day when no-one is around to watch it". This depressing run is punctuated by advert breaks that can literally last up to 15 minutes. I know this, because I began timing them after spending quarter of an hour developing a 1000 yard stare.

And further inbetween these lines, there are gems such as Futurama and Spongebob Squarepants, some of the few programmes that haven't suffered from translation, as well as stuff about the war that just screams "See? See? We were responsible, we admit it! Leave us be now, yeah?"

My favourite programme from last night was a re-dubbed American one called "I Used To Be Fat", which is one of those programmes where fat kids are given a personal trainer and trained the hell out of.

NOW LET ME BE CLEAR.

I am all for the rigorous exercising of fat kids. But my problem with this programme was that it should really have been titled something like "I Am Still Fat" or "I Used to be Fat But Then I Got Fatter" The words "used to be" are hardly in sight, people. They are probably being blocked by a fat person. To all on that programme, I commend your effort, but to appear on national television under that title is optimism of the highest degree.

Maybe I missed the point. Maybe it's the patronising kind of "look, they're people as well!" fat programme targeted at the German equivalent of the braindead population who genuinely enjoy these kinds of shows. Who knows.

Obama does England

The answer my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind

So Barack Obama finished his tour of the UK recently, the one which was partially meant to try and re-affirm what great bum buddies the UK and the US are. As always, I give my praise to Obama, because he constantly does shit right. I'm not certain as to whether this is just in comparison to the terms of George Bush, but whatever the case, I'm a fan.

This is because Obama simply states it as it is and takes it without fuss. He downplays the 'special relationship' that Blair and Bush endorsed, as they cheekily patted each other on the arse, and instead focuses on the 'important relationship', or "essential" relationship, rather, which suggests something of actual substance instead of just a big PR win.

Obama is good at the whole public image thing, but I genuinely feel this must have been a bit much for him. When he's in the States, he at least has the solace of familiarity and real achievement; his tour of the UK involved a ceremonial banquet at Buckingham Palace which harked back to the British imperialist bullshit that probably crushed his ancestors, before having to flip burgers with Tory Dave, a conservative as well as a McCain 2008 supporter.

I'm sure there's some witty slavery caption in here somewhere.

My favourite favourite thing however is Obama's signing of a guest book at Westminster, with the date "24 May 2008". There have since sprung up thousands of angry and confused comments to the tune of "ZOMG OBAMA GOT DA WRONG DATE IS HE GAY OR WOT?", my favourite one incidentally being "As if Obama isn’t a complete and utter embarrassment enough already. The dumbass in chief popped off to England today and signed the Westminster Abbey Guest Book with the date of 24 may 2008."


He's only human, dickwads. George Bush wouldn't have known which way to hold the pen.

University crap

Oh, I was a knave at the dawning of the day,
Come Lord, and tell it unto me,
But the sun's gone down and the Kind has lost his crown,
Now it lies on the bed of the sea ..

Well, I just finished the stressful hell that comes about once a year that is module enrollment for university. This invariably means an hour of two of refreshing the webpage, going painstakingly through each step, checking for timetable clashes, fine print about pre-requisites, all of which will ultimately end in crushing disappointment.

True module enrollment success is like getting to the front row of some major public event: You camp outside it until the doors open. If like me, and so many many others, this chance is missed, you begin the battle against your internet connection, more web traffic than is seemingly possible and a list with at least 2 modules labelled "FULL" before you've even caught your breath.

This mindset is universal; facebook is basically dominated with people lamenting the lack of module choice or just berating the system. The question of how a module can become full is beyond me. I know now of numerous people who have missed out on their first choices purely because the webpage is inaccessible due to traffic. This then leads to having to pick choices which you crossed off in your head as "will never pick this ever", because there's nothing else left. And we pay for this.

It's not even worth the tears. But unfortunately, it has to be, lest you end up missing everything and not getting back into uni. Unless some kind of improved system is developed, not least for the University of Leeds, people are gonna be even less than peachy than now when they start paying £9000 for modules they don't want.

Obama killed Osama

The pattern juggler lifts his hand,

The orchestra begin.
As slowly turn the grinding wheel,
In the court of the Crimson King ..

Hey there.

The word on the street since the small hours of this morning is that Osama Bin Laden has been killed by US special forces in Pakistan, after a 10 year long run post 9/11. I won't go down the complete conspiracy theory route on this (yes, they already exist, and my goodness is there some bullshit on the internet) but some of the stuff surrounding it moves from "Well, thats interesting" all the way to a long, frowny "Hmmmmm".

The major flaw seems to be in the US's admittedly understandable but hugely, hugely ill-conceived rejoicings. It's like killing the queen bee in a bee hive and then hanging round to do a victory dance. I'm addressing YOU, America, seeing as a good 75% of this site's hits come from the States - is it not mind numbingly obvious that stoking the fire with your flags and rowdy patriotism will not do any of us favours for the future?

It struck me as odd that Obama let it come to this. His use of the phrase "brought to justice" was as much of a kick in the tits as George Bush's infamous 'Mission Accomplished' banner. If the price of justice for one man is billions upon billions of dollars and hundreds of thousands of lives, both military and civilian, you'll forgive me if I don't alter my definition of 'justice' just yet.

Which leads me to this: Justice will never be truly served because the perpetrators themselves are dead. Coordinated by Bin Laden, overseen by Bin Laden, brainchild of Bin Laden - however you want to define it - the removal of one man from the top of an ideological tour de force like Al-Qaeda will not address the root problems: poverty, the desecration of other faiths etc. Rather it will only serve as a catalyst for the next more determined generation of radical Islamic fuckheads who step up to fill his shoes.

Despite all this 'God Bless the USA because we can afford to bomb our way around for a decade in search of one man' malarky, one thing that does strike me as odd is that we didn't, and most likely never will, see any pictures of Osama after he got all killed. What are the reasons for his corpse to not be paraded around much in the way ol' Saddam was immediately following his capture?

My favourite quote of the day - "US intelligence analysts believed the compound was "the sort of place that you might try to hide". THAT is the quality of intelligence we're working with? Taking random potshots at things that look hideworthy? The discovery of a half kilometre deep tunnel network with supplies for 5 years might have been a victory of some real calibre, but "the sort of place that you might try to hide" is the kind of thing you'd say about a cupboard underneath a staircase. Is this what 10 years has been spent doing?

"Look Sarge! That pile of rocks lying on the floor!"

"Well spotted Private! That looks like the sort of place that someone might try to hide!"

Bin Laden has apparently been buried at sea in the most conveniently unheard of Islamic tradition that the US army could find between killing him and planning their next big win in the propaganda war.

And just while we're discussing convenience, remember last week America, when it was being disputed as to whether Obama was an American citizen and thus eligible for presidency? Let's see how quickly the haters revert back to that notion seeing that the death of Bin Laden fell under Obama's term in office. It should keep you occupied to the next anniversary of 9/11 at least.

Remember: Believe everything your government says, America, or the terrorists win.

Another from Germany

Sun is in the sky, oh why, oh why,
Would I want to be anywhere else?

Oh man, long time since I wrote on this one right? What a load's gone down since the last time; Japanese Earthquake, revolutions in North Africa .. other things as well.

Up to a few days ago, I woke up each morning thinking "Hmm, it must be April Fools day soon". I just checked now and it turns out it's already the 8th, which by some measure probably makes me the biggest fool of all. I actually have those little pangs of disappointment that I missed it, like when you put your hand out for a handshake and the other person doesn't see you, whereby you pretend you were just scratching your chin artistically.

It's not as if I hold it close to my heart or anything like that, but in Neuerburg, days with meanings attached to them are beacons of vague excitement.

I essentially have zero to say today; last night I played badminton for 2 hours, just to make sure I'm as unfit as I thought I was, and then sat up until 2am making exercise sheets for my grammar class so I wouldn't have to wake up as early today and do it. I may as well have just doodled in my own shit for all the effort it was worth, but at least I felt like a fastidious worker for once this year.

This friday I'm gonna go back to Cologne for the eighth time this year, I think, because the boon DORA is having her 21st. The first threshold of success for this night out will be upon counting how many of her belongings made it full circle and how many are MIA in Cologne's clubs and bars.

Anyway, I'd better go. I think the cleaning lady wants to tidy the staffroom.

MORE bureacracy?

Put me up, put me down,
Put my feet back on the ground,
Put me up, take my heart and make me happy ..

I've just managed to envelope up and send a load of forms from Germany back to the UK, after 2 attempts which apparently failed. If this one actually turns out ok, which would be a nice weight off my mind, then I should be back in pocket in the area of €2000.

The work placement I'm currently undertaking pays me around €800 per month, which is a handsome amount considering the admittedly simple scope of my weekly routine. I can live of this income with ease and afford to travel. This is essentially all I want. The €2000 grant I've just sent back the forms for is free, and I won't pass up free money, but the crux is, simply, that it is not crucial. I could live as I am without it.

Cue British bureacracy, in all it's indecipherable glory.

I'd be lying if I said that the main reason I sent these grant-money forms back was because I'm in desperate need of backup cash. No, I think it was more in the way of incurring a fucking inexplicable charge of £880 if I don't. For .. for what? I don't know. I genuinely have no idea. If I don't send the forms back, the Government/Leeds University/Whichever other twatting pencil pushers designed these clapshot rules remain €2000 better off. Is this £880 a necessary bonus for them, or just something they threw in for fun?

Pfft. So yeah, I'm voluntarily receiving my free money because if I don't I have to pay for not receiving it. You work that one out. I dedicate this post to the fucknugget desk-jockeys who drew this plan up. It sucks balls. It really tongues sack.

2011

When it all gets dark again,
The whole thing falls apart I guess,
It doesn't really matter 'bout the rain,
'Cause we'll get through it anyway ..

Another year gone.

My New Years Eve was spent in Amsterdam trying not to get killed. If you are Dutch, and you have a firework, set it off wherever the hell you like. You seem to gain bonus points if you kick a firework over towards a crowd of people.

I spent most of New Years Eve in a coffee shop. We sat for five minutes just kind of shaking uncontrollably post near-death experience, until the guy who owned the place came over looking pretty grumpy and told us if we weren't gonna buy anything or smoke, we'd have to leave.

We told him truthfully that we'd bought from him the previous night. Suddenly he was very friendly. It was the best kind of friendly; he just raised his hands and said, in that genuine tone that you'd expect from David Attenborough or Morgan Freeman, "No problem guys" and walked behind the bar.

The Dutch are ok.

There's nothing else to report. After New Years Eve I think I have some new lease on life after witnessing near-death in all its red, green and sparkly rocket glory.

Oh, and don't go to Paris. Or do, but do it better than I did. Ooh, and run amok in train stations, the guards carry rifles but no ammunition whatsoever. And don't speak to anyone.

HAPPY NEW YEAR