Why can i never get my pics the right size?
Anyway, time for at least a semi decent update.
Still jobless and skint, but not starving. Left eye really hurts so I've had my contact out for a few days, resulting in me having to wink a lot of the time.
I'm still writing like a madman for the upcoming production*.
My sister was 21, and my brother and I didn't get half the shit we were expecting from our disappointed family. Drank stupid amounts
Currently listening to the Horrorist- 'One Night in New York City' and 'My Mouse likes House' are particular faves. Also, New Model Army and Doo Wop. Not afraid of eclecticism!
*I don't want to give the game away as to what this is all about this just yet. The following are some of my own personal faves from the 33 which I've written-
Lucifer
Thousands of years ago, a star died.
So in the city theres a bit less light
to be glimpsed through the clouds.
The waning moon, low and anemic,
cannot stop the city hiding its black mass.
Only the sodium glow saves us from the dark.
But the lights are on the blink,
Neglected by the council who wont take our bins.
The graffiti is eaten by the night.
The loss of balance makes you sick,
Stomach jolted by the clash
Of illuminating night and the days dark.
When our protecting light has died
There is only the burning light
Of the sun, that allows us no shadows or shroud.
Uphir
In the local hospital, theres no spare bed.
Wards have to be closed to clean up a super bug.
The public is poor and better off dead.
The last of her friends, who got into their head
That fighting for the future would do any good,
They withheld her food to free up the bed.
You can go private when your well watered and fed
Living off a fat inheritance like a slug.
When youre too poor, youre better off dead.
(Dont be offended by what Ive said
If youve worked your way into a better neighbourhood
Just sleep soundly and forget those without a bed)
They tell us the hospitals (not the leaders) need to be replaced.
Go along with their foundation plans, we should.
I wish those money-grabbing liars were dead.
Foundation hospitals are the only answer. Dont be Stupid!
But they can say what they want, slinging their mud,
Because though my army of dreamers are tucked up in bed-sits,
When we wake well see you all dead, shits.
Ardat Lile
The temple fell with the slamming of the door
As the red petals, or blood drops, splashed on the floor.
Remember when the pan full of oil in the ceremonial cooking place
Took flame and we covered it with a damp tea towel, shielding our faces
From the heavy incenses that were fuming.
Only music helps me forget, so I keep the drums booming,
And sway on the couch in meditation
And build up speed as I leave my bodys station
To obtain a balance like the speeding bullet
Rather than still like the hippy visualizations I could never master.
I spin as the tears sting my eyes like grit
Im weeping and dizzying ever faster.
The herbal tea is brewing.
The temple is in ruins.
Abdiel
We domesticated the animals and ourselves
There were theories but no practice
So that groups which their own interests
Could justify themselves.
With theories but no practice
They got jobs where they could palm
Public funds and justify themselves
To their families with big houses and cars.
In their jobs, they grease each others palms
And rob from the poor to stay rich
And buy bigger houses and bigger cars
In gated communities.
And when the poor they robbed from to stay rich
Show up and protest the rates, the pollution, the prices,
The police protect the gated communities
And arrest the ringleaders.
You can protest the pollution and the low price
They put on our lives
But the filth will never question their leaders
Or put them in chains.
But did they put this price on our lives?
Or did we create the special interest groups
And forge our own chains?
Domesticating the animals, did we forget ourselves?
Aldinach
The too timid breeze cannot break the mug of the thunder storming night.
The covers are stuck to me and the other side of the pillow is no longer cool.
The damp is rising as I try to strip.
There is no escape from the blood boiling
hot rain that makes the citys river flood, capsizing joyless boatmen.
Canals overflow and are no longer shit strewn.
A pirate armada, rats not drowned beneath grid covers, flees to new plunders.
Their way lit by flickering streetlights, that reflected from their eyes
makes you wonder how their internal furnaces survived the downpour.
Someone on a top floor considers how little hes lost as a widescreen TV sails into the night.
He wonders will the cloud break and fans himself with a magazine to keep cool
before opening it to read a comic strip.
Across town, rescue crews rush out, leaving the kettle boiling
To take lots of someones to hospital after being rescued by filthy boatmen.
Ferrying the wet and wounded in a fleet of barges, lilos and hot air balloons.
Amidst it all, theres a couple getting kinky with natures power and blunder
each others clothes off on a marshy park and let out muffled cries
as their sweat washes away with the downpour.
-
Other than writing, I'm still looking for a job. Being skint meant summer hasn't gone to plan. I wanted to go surfing and to Mera Luna, but can't afford either. I'll be lucky to get to Infest in August
Hoo dee hum. I'm expecting to be an uncle around November
England prevails.
Anyway, time for at least a semi decent update.
Still jobless and skint, but not starving. Left eye really hurts so I've had my contact out for a few days, resulting in me having to wink a lot of the time.
I'm still writing like a madman for the upcoming production*.
My sister was 21, and my brother and I didn't get half the shit we were expecting from our disappointed family. Drank stupid amounts
Currently listening to the Horrorist- 'One Night in New York City' and 'My Mouse likes House' are particular faves. Also, New Model Army and Doo Wop. Not afraid of eclecticism!
*I don't want to give the game away as to what this is all about this just yet. The following are some of my own personal faves from the 33 which I've written-
Lucifer
Thousands of years ago, a star died.
So in the city theres a bit less light
to be glimpsed through the clouds.
The waning moon, low and anemic,
cannot stop the city hiding its black mass.
Only the sodium glow saves us from the dark.
But the lights are on the blink,
Neglected by the council who wont take our bins.
The graffiti is eaten by the night.
The loss of balance makes you sick,
Stomach jolted by the clash
Of illuminating night and the days dark.
When our protecting light has died
There is only the burning light
Of the sun, that allows us no shadows or shroud.
Uphir
In the local hospital, theres no spare bed.
Wards have to be closed to clean up a super bug.
The public is poor and better off dead.
The last of her friends, who got into their head
That fighting for the future would do any good,
They withheld her food to free up the bed.
You can go private when your well watered and fed
Living off a fat inheritance like a slug.
When youre too poor, youre better off dead.
(Dont be offended by what Ive said
If youve worked your way into a better neighbourhood
Just sleep soundly and forget those without a bed)
They tell us the hospitals (not the leaders) need to be replaced.
Go along with their foundation plans, we should.
I wish those money-grabbing liars were dead.
Foundation hospitals are the only answer. Dont be Stupid!
But they can say what they want, slinging their mud,
Because though my army of dreamers are tucked up in bed-sits,
When we wake well see you all dead, shits.
Ardat Lile
The temple fell with the slamming of the door
As the red petals, or blood drops, splashed on the floor.
Remember when the pan full of oil in the ceremonial cooking place
Took flame and we covered it with a damp tea towel, shielding our faces
From the heavy incenses that were fuming.
Only music helps me forget, so I keep the drums booming,
And sway on the couch in meditation
And build up speed as I leave my bodys station
To obtain a balance like the speeding bullet
Rather than still like the hippy visualizations I could never master.
I spin as the tears sting my eyes like grit
Im weeping and dizzying ever faster.
The herbal tea is brewing.
The temple is in ruins.
Abdiel
We domesticated the animals and ourselves
There were theories but no practice
So that groups which their own interests
Could justify themselves.
With theories but no practice
They got jobs where they could palm
Public funds and justify themselves
To their families with big houses and cars.
In their jobs, they grease each others palms
And rob from the poor to stay rich
And buy bigger houses and bigger cars
In gated communities.
And when the poor they robbed from to stay rich
Show up and protest the rates, the pollution, the prices,
The police protect the gated communities
And arrest the ringleaders.
You can protest the pollution and the low price
They put on our lives
But the filth will never question their leaders
Or put them in chains.
But did they put this price on our lives?
Or did we create the special interest groups
And forge our own chains?
Domesticating the animals, did we forget ourselves?
Aldinach
The too timid breeze cannot break the mug of the thunder storming night.
The covers are stuck to me and the other side of the pillow is no longer cool.
The damp is rising as I try to strip.
There is no escape from the blood boiling
hot rain that makes the citys river flood, capsizing joyless boatmen.
Canals overflow and are no longer shit strewn.
A pirate armada, rats not drowned beneath grid covers, flees to new plunders.
Their way lit by flickering streetlights, that reflected from their eyes
makes you wonder how their internal furnaces survived the downpour.
Someone on a top floor considers how little hes lost as a widescreen TV sails into the night.
He wonders will the cloud break and fans himself with a magazine to keep cool
before opening it to read a comic strip.
Across town, rescue crews rush out, leaving the kettle boiling
To take lots of someones to hospital after being rescued by filthy boatmen.
Ferrying the wet and wounded in a fleet of barges, lilos and hot air balloons.
Amidst it all, theres a couple getting kinky with natures power and blunder
each others clothes off on a marshy park and let out muffled cries
as their sweat washes away with the downpour.
-
Other than writing, I'm still looking for a job. Being skint meant summer hasn't gone to plan. I wanted to go surfing and to Mera Luna, but can't afford either. I'll be lucky to get to Infest in August
Hoo dee hum. I'm expecting to be an uncle around November
England prevails.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
nadine:
thank you! and yeah all is ok down my end... yourself? 
matt_organic:
Will definately be at Infest now, along with Mortimer. Your new profile picture looks slightly like a mugshot. Rockin'.