Gift of God

2:57am: Happy Halloween!
The nurse apron never appeared, but I made up for it with a bit of apron-like black fabric and a black and white polka-dot long skirt to create the scary butcher from hell. The mask itself was so disconcerting that one of my friends was unable to look at me for alot of the evening, and tonight I had to remove my big rubber gloves so as not to frighten Alex.

Two evenings then - One punk and grindcore gig last night and one Halloween party tonight.

The gig was cool, Laminator played a damn good set despite some false starts, opening with the absolutely dark and hard rocking "Worst Song". I'm a bit confused about who was who in the next three bands, but I think it was Rotten Tramp who I was most impressed with. Got a good bit of mad dancing going on despite our low number. Hostile Agenda stomped the closing set with their much-more-hardcore-than-their-age-might-suggest punk. Oh yeah the only people dressed up were myself, little Matt with my tri-corn hat as a dead highwayman, and Helene as an evil fairy.

Afterwards I made the mistake of returning to Russel and Lucy's house. It started innocently enough - we decided to have a feast and ate some pizzas, but then Russel stole Lucy's ring. In retaliation Lucy stole five of Russel's pounds, but seeing the flaw in this tactic he tried to make his way out of the kitchen to find Lucy's stuff. When she attemped to block his way he begun to threaten her with a mutant cup of tea (also containing orange squash and a whole lot of sugar). That's when Lucy made her next mistake - clearly not yet knowing Russel well she folded in an attempt to reach a truce, and returned his money. In Russel's words:

"Yeah, but now I have absolutely no reason not to throw this tea at you."

After he threw the tea he was attacked by one of Lucy's friends with a revenge cuppa. The instinctive Russel bastard reflex kicked in and he deployed the tea pot in a wide arc soaking Lucy, her friend, and the kitchen with hot tea. As I made my hasty retreat from the kitchen he had started to hurl copious quantities of sugar at them.

Making a tactical error myself I later found myself in the carpet-freshening powder firing line. It was only when Russel realised I was going to twat him he finally calmed down and went to bed.

That was evening #1. If you read further you may notice a patern emerging.

Evening #2 - The party at Gemma's

I went to this without knowing who Gemma was. Not having money for beer I managed to steal some unattended cans and then sat about in the kitchen with Matt eating some vaguely unpleasent flat biscuits because they were the only food that I could fit through my mask. Russel had dressed up this time - he, in all his camp blond glory, was now a witch with a black dress, strippy socks, and knobbly knees on display.

Everything was fairly inncocuous until a drunken Tim started wrestleing with Russel, who responded with half a can of larger. Sheltering in the next room me and Matt passed cupfuls of water to both combatants to extend the entertainment. After a brief spat a wasted Ashley joined us in the kitchen where we started discussing the merrits of hurling lemonade at Russel. Unfortunately it was at this moment when the one of the house mates swept past us to investigate the "beer fight". All inhibitions left far behind Ashley squeezed hard on the lemonade bottle, smitting the already angry hostess squarely in the back with a not insubstantial ammount of sugary pop.

So we were thrown out and now I sit here writing this.

Before I close down for the night though I should give Rob's cock the honourable mention it deserves. Rob bought his cock, amazingly enough, in a charity shop. He then proceeded to bi-sect it and cram it with red tissue gore and pva spunk. Pokeing from his flys this was Rob's mighty costume. Cock jokes abound.

11:30pm: "A liberal feels ashamed of his possesions. A conservative feels he deserves everything that he has stolen."

Hahahahhahahahahaha....

I went to the gym today. Thats like a cow water-skiing.

Anyway. Theres a gig tommorrow night to play into halloween and I'm working on my costume. At present I have a venisian (sp?) golden mask of a smiling face (it's creepy as hell), a rather spectacular hat with a hole high up the back for my pony-tail to stick out of, a WW2 nurses apron, and lots of black electrical tape. As yet I'm unsure of the merit of combineing all of this.

My friend's punk fanzine

Everyone should listen to the Levellers.

9:33pm: Yesterday I did an honest days work.

Well actually I suppose it technically wasn't "honest" since I got cash in hand, but I'm assumeing that when people say "an honest days work" they actually mean a hard days work with limited criminality.

I've made a note of it - Saturday 18th October, an honest days work.

Come on you right-wingers, Now I'm Invincible!

P.S. Apologises for my erratic appearances and dissapearances, but my internet access is unpredictable at the moment.

5:57pm: Hey!
Been trying to reach you. There must be a devil between us or whores in my head...

I've been a bad blurt. Its been some time since my last confession. I thought I should return when I heard echoes of Monk in my own words. Something about the inevitability of being brung low by your penis seems to have lodged in my brain. Alex says that as a women you are brung low by prejudice, but I don't think this is inevitable at all. I do, I point out, have an active interest in achieveing gender equality. No one else is fighting to prevent me from falling victim to my masculinity.

Find People, Get Drunk, Rinse & Repeat until crisis of confidence triggers a few days self imposed isolation.

Then begin again.

Not too bad I suppose, although I wish there were more people. Miss M now speaks to me again, which is good, but it will take some time to restore trust there. I may be working for her father again soon - I neeed money to get more tattoos. Ahha! You don't know I have a tattoo, but indeed I dooo. Woooo!

My tattoo is the NIN logo. Some people think this is foolish, I dissagree. If you love music you simply know that there are some bands you will allways respect. Well, thats what I reckon anyhow.

11:41pm: I have a bottle of wine and Doctor Strangelove.

This is treating myself.

"So...erm...when did you come to realise this?
During the physical act of love."

- Sellar's British officer questions the insane commander about his belief in the soviet plot to turn America communist by putting fluriode in the water.

1:51am: There is no place I can go, there is no place I can hide - Feels like it keeps coming from the inside.

I think just set fire to the debate forum again. Fuck it. Bed.

12:45am: Look at me. I exist.
I'm sorry, sorry that I lived this way, sorry I let myself decay.

There is much to tell. Is there anyone to listen?

On 15th of the month I saw My Ruin play The Garage with almighty stoner-rockers Orange Goblin in support. Absolutely incredible - the Garage is a small venue with no security cordone to seperate fans and band - and the new material from My Ruin is stonkingly good. Unlike many of the more old school styled heavy metal bands they still have something to say nad they put it very nicely indeed. My selfless act for the evening was getting my good friend Sarah on stage for the last song.

The day after we were album to attend an intimate little launch party for their EP "The Shape of Things to Come". Naturally we got really drunk and made absolute tits of ourselves in front of one of our favourite bands. On the plus side I did get my boots drawn on and signed. Anyway you know that thing about all the best guys being gay? Well considering Meghan Mattox (bass) I think maybe all the best girls are too.

Today I got back from lets-let-meanfiddler-fuck-us-all-up-the-arse-again-2003 in Reading. System of a Down remain the most vital band around, they improvise constantly, bring in new influences, and rock hard in a swirling tempest of faux operatics. As for Metallic...well first of all I must state that I do believe Metallica to be very talented musicians. However certain factors meant that I was unable to bring myself to stay for the whole set. When I go to see live music I do so because it is a sort of ephinany (thankyou for queensugar for supplying me with the word I had been searching for to describe this) - one finds something to believe in or "feel" the music, be it lyrics/atmosphere/attitude/whatever, and you join the artists to support them in reinstateing this belief, this "feel", this thing that moved you. Sadly, although I enjoy the classics Metallic don't have anything to say anymore, indeed I find their redneck tendencies actually make me uncomfortable to be supporting them. I looked at the stage and I saw all ego and no substance, heavy metal dinosaurs desperately screwing every last cent out of their dedicated fans (St. Anger is a case in point). So I left. I can hear bloody good noises but I will not be party to such a distasteful excercise.

On the campsite antics side hurray for getting wasted in Camp Ruined and wakeing up in the wrong tents two nights running. Spillage of the weekend goes to Joe who managed to tip a luke warm tin of cream of mushroom soup all over his socks and into his shoe, while most entertaining moment was the outbreak of a mad cider, grass, and tuna fight over whether we could be arsed to go see Biffy Clyro. Avoid drinking copious quantities of white cider if you believe this to be the kind of thing that shouldn't happen to you.

Dissapointingly, although I stayed up for most of Sunday night in hope of some riotious entertainment, I didn't see one toliet being blown up.

3:09am: Cultural Differences: UK and USA
I thought this exercise might be interesting after monkey_knight mentioned that he'd like to hear more about life in the United Kingdom. Feel free to add your own Mr. Knight, and indeed anyone else who may frequent these pages (look I can pretend alright?).

History:
As far as I can gather most American citizens feel the need to have their own history rather than that of the land they live in, as the latter barely involves them (by and large this goes for the Canadian Museums Service too). Subsequently recent history in the USA is reverred in a way that even ancient history in the UK is not. My best example of this is the preservation of victorian era ruins, not special mansions or anything, just everyday victorian businesses. With the exception of those areas badly hit by the blitz in WW2 most towns and cities in the UK have a great deal of victorian architecture - the bedsit I live in now is in a victorian house, my bank is in a victorian building. We also have many timber frame properties that date back into the C16 (like my favourite pub) and before which are inhabited or remain in use in other roles. We drive past stone circles that date back millenia and the whole country is covered in the remains of William the Bastard's castle network. Hence such history doesn't excite many in the UK, but visiting Americans are amazed by how old everything is.

Pubs:
Integral part of life in the United Kingdom. Going to the pub regularly is socially acceptable and indeed the norm - I haven't gone without a drink in a pub for more than month since I was 15, nowadays 3 days is pushing it. Many serve decent food and its practically a requirement to have a pool table in an inadequate space so you cant take some of your shots properly due to interference by walls or oak pillars etc. The legal drinking age is 18 but realistically most 16 year olds will regularly frequent pubs and only occasionlly be chucked out. In rural areas the pubs come with free faintly disturbing old farmers who sit in the corner all day talking to each other in accents so think they give the impression of talking a an entirely different, far more primitive, language. Pubs can occasionally be confused with the more American styled "bars". Unless for special reasons one should allways frequent pubs instead of bars which serve lame beer and just lack character.

Police:
They don't carry guns. 'Nuff said.

Tea:
Fuels the nation. Coffee is for overworked white collar workers and Merkin wannabies.

Television News:
In the UK this covers what happens outside the UK aswell. I gather many American networks have problems with this concept. Although the BBC contains an inherant bias towards the status quo it manages at least some fair reporting and so sets and example to the over new broadcasters (ITN and Channel 4) that is hard to break. American TV news is hideous. I know some half-merkins who occasionally visit home in the USA but never stay for long because they cant deal with having no proper news.

Printed News:
Comes in roughly two categories: The Broadsheets (big, intelligent, concerned with NEWS, and difficult to hold) and The Tabloids (small, dumb, concerned with CELEBRITY and CRAP, and easy to hold). Roughly central between these categories lies America's Newsweek.

National Pride:
We don't have any. Rather it is associated with racism and many find it distasteful. This is mainly a product of being ashamed at having ruled half the world and treated it like shit. Sure we have a flag and stuff...and some morons even like the royal family (late for the chopping block), but there is no comparison with the American worship of the Old Glory and customs like the Oath of Alligence.

Thats everything I can think of now....boring isn't it? Nevermind.

7:55pm: What I like about the cut.
The very best part
is watching my life blood snake
in slow downwards arc.

(At least I'm good at something.)

1:37am: I'm too fucked tot take my boots off.,..
Yup. Today I was goidn to die but got fucked on absinthe and jumped in puddles instead. Now I cant undo my boots and my trousers are all wet. Sorry been a while but I moved into a little shitty bedsit of my own.

12:50am: Je ne t'aime plus..
parfois j'aimerais mourir tellement j'ai voulu croire
parfois j'aimerais mourir pour ne plus rien avoir
parfois j'aimerais mourir pour plus jamais te voir

I don't actually speak much French and I had to hunt down the translation on google. For my fellow language deficients it is:

sometimes I'd like to die because I wanted so much to believe
sometimes I'd like to die, in order not to have anything anymore
sometimes I'd like to die, so that I don't have to see you anymore

To which we all cry, "You said it Manuel Chao".

2:28am: Better than life?
[note for the benefit of Merkins and other foriegn peoples - the title is a Red Dwarf refference]

There was a wicked little cartoon in this months Bizarre. Two guys are sitting in a bathtub full of blood. Above them is the body of a women impaled on a meat hook. One guy says to the other:

"You're right, this is better than sex."

I'm treated to mute hate, vocal indifference, and obvious suspicion in a brief encounter with the young lady who drove me to suicide. In actual fact she holds little resposibilty in my decline - she was rather the focus for the maladaptive behaviours in me, and while the issues of trust and betrayl that served as the ultimate trigger this was envitable really. Despite this the image is oh so appealing.

3:03am: No more Mr. dead guy.
I've been admonished for posting too much about dying. Ho hum.

I'm actually posting because I noticed some people have added me now - I feel sort of obligated to look interesting, funny, and deep. Nevermind eh?

Got another new head screw tommorrow (fifth in 6 months?) to which I say PANTS. Tomahawk lyric comes to mind: "I was awake all through the surgery / the people dancing, laughing - all for me". I intend to move county soon anyway meaning I'll get passed to a different service and another dumbass team. All rather dependant on me moving house though, and the only person I can think of who might have a room claims to be a cosmic swordmaster, attacks people with humus, and microwaves their shoes. Still his band is quite entertaining I spose.

In the interest of looking creative I'd post some poetry, but I write REALLY bad poetry. Or at least I lack the capacity to determine what is good or bad poetry and don't want to risk it..

Get the song "You Lied Satan" by Trash Money if at all possible. Its worth having for the title alone I reckon.

Boat Drinks.

2:52am: Maybe I'll put a whole in your head, just for the fuck of it.
I recently started an unwinnable debate regarding sexism, the word cunt, and whether it should be "reclaimed". It does make me wonder if I hate women. Certainly there are particular women that I hate with a passion - the three I had fucked up relationships or nearly relationships with. I am however also extremely fond of these individuals. Is the hatred a result of a suppressed mysogyny in me? Something to do with the hugely unbalanced male to female ratio in the family or the natural state of my gender? Fuck it. Who knows? Who cares? All being well I should be dead in a couple of months anyway....

5:45pm: Step back, stay the fuck away from me.
OMS gig cancelled, as far as I know because Brian Barry has had a mental breakdown. So anyway I'm not on my way to a gig I'm sitting here with red wine and razor blades.

1:49pm: I wear this crown of shit....
Going to set off to see OMS in a couple of hours, and everything is totally utterly fucked.

4:45pm: Wake up.
Odd. I get a blurty thing to complain about my depression, but end up spending all my time here debateing politics and social theory. More productive I suppose.

Our website was updated today and issue 6 of Rebel Bull is nearly with us.

2:28am: Knife Prty
Browsing through the interest match compatibility whatever thingy for interesting people. It occurs to me that all I have thus far is a bit of political dirge. Faced with a blank screen I can't think of anything to write. What exactly am I doing anyway? Trying to make myself look interesting to people I don't know? Pathetic. The more I consider this the hollower it looks to me. Am I that badly in need of a community that I need to sell myself to other "troubled" ones? Yes. And that sucks some.

Regardless I'll introduce you to my situation. On Tuesday 12th May I took a massive over dose of co-proxamol (sp?), and subsequently I've been removed from the real world. I'm not really a student anymore, I have no obligations, I sit at home by myself all fucking day every fucking day trying not to think. My suicide is inevitable because it is the only option I have. Its when and how I'm thinking about now. I can't afford to screw this one up.

*wonders off to watch NBK again*

4:23pm: Indoctrination breeds stupidity.
Just read an entry in "David's Daily Diversions" - apparently offering "bite sized portions of wit and wisdom". Unfortunately Mr. Holford's opinion of his own wisdom may be inflated, as he writes, "[is] it just me, or isn't lack of organisation the whole point of anarchy?" It still amazes me the number of times I get questions like this, so no David it isn't just you. You are however very wrong. Alexander Berkman said "anarchism is organisation, organisation, and organisation." The reason for this is that as hierarchy is broken down GREATER organisation is needed, something that should be plainly obvious. The problem is more one of semantics. When David Holford and many others talk about anarchy they are using it to mean disorder and indeed this has come to be the accepted definition of the word. Political anarchy or anarchism owes it's meaning to the root of the word anarchy to a far greater extent. The word we use today is from the C16 medieval Latin, which is derived from the Greek "anarkhos" (without a ruler), which itself comes from AN- + arkh (leader), so therefore a far truer definition of the word is no ruler or without a ruler.

I would excuse David's error if originating from someone who professes total disinterest in politics, but not someone offering "wisdom" on the subject. What has occurred is that he has been presented with an idea that not only falls outside his support of exploitation and inequality, in fact it directly challenges it. His reaction to this is to degrade himself by expressing reactionary ignorance as an alternative to engaging in reasoned argument. Of course if David were to approach us he would always find us willing to carefully point out the mistakes in his logic and indeed possibly his morality.

The rest of the entry includes of a side swipe at our age. Yes very good and next time he complains of the so-called political apathy of the young he will do well to recall that he has implied that youth negates the validity of political opinion. He also states "Somehow I don't think that they realise capitalism is necessary for their parents to support them and that when their parents are fed up with them as useless leeches, they will need the state to pay their dole money." Oh dear, so we are to take from that that he believes further education is invalid (students called leaches), and what's this David? You don't think we realise capitalism is necessary? That would be because we believe it isn't. Believe it or not the anarchism is a bit better thought out than to suggest no workable alternative. You can find more details than you could possibly want ever at www.anarchistfag.org .

It seems somewhat of a letdown to use the whole of my first diary entry on correcting the ignorance of one individual, but there will be time for stuff about me later.

Boat Drinks.