Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!'s Blurty Entries [entries|friends|calendar] Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em! [ website | Sister Diary: Anive ] [ userinfo | blurty userinfo ] [ calendar | blurty calendar ]

Twitter. [14 Sep 2011|01:12am] Strangely, I have managed to draw more followers (fans) than I ever did here, in a fraction of the time. Hilarious. I do my best work here. If you liked Dating Don'ts (All two of you) you'll love the shit I come out with here. http://twitter.com/#!/Zoomeister Seems an age ago since the Golden Age, eh? I'm talking 2004-5. Good times. Right, i'll see you in six months. Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[19 Apr 2011|12:54am] Knowing myself is never easy. Writing about myself, even one single word, is difficult, knitting thoughts, i've never found easy. Yet I do it, constantly. Thirty four years, wrapped in a quilt, an eiderdown, a blanket, the easy route. Nostalgic, no tears, only emotion, wrought, wrung and put through a mangle. There is no victim, no strangling, there is only, the throttled thought, a bare red neck and a blank pair of eyes, there are several hundred blank pages. Not a day goes by when I don't think things could have been so different...if only...if only. But this doesn't help. It is only consolation in a prism. I simply do not know who I am. In the space of a sentence, I shift from sunrise to sunset, a gleam in the eye of the moon, and then the death of it. I cannot even finish this piece. And that is the most frustrating thing about it. Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[23 Jan 2011|05:51pm] I will be deleting this diary soon. One, because Blurty is not a safe website, and two, because every fucking new journal is trying to sell something. It's not inspiring now IS IT? Anyway, my cock of words is now spunking right up Twitter's cunt. Here's a tasteful snap of my delivery: "Either that, or he has a flaccid and rancid cock, thus putting her off the idea of blowjobs for life. I didn't say that to him." Have fun with that. I'll see you all there, or at LJ, if you give half a fuck. Link: http://twitter.com/#!/Zoomeister Adios. 3 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[14 Jan 2011|01:22pm] my lonely soul knows, not where it should go, all colours inside me are grey all senses appear delayed burning thumbs and thumping head are all I can feel down in the dark my blood is crawling to a stop my love is thick as a rock my lonely soul follows, you and all your travels, as the life grows thin and my string unravels 2 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[11 Sep 2010|01:17am] are you in love? She suggests, rather than states. There is no answer. I have no answer. I ache to be by her side. Always, and yet, years melt each other's hearts, but freeze in the winter. Scuffed shoes against cold brick walls conceal truthes. My shining metal armour is also my barrier; I am no longer her knight, I love her and yet I flew free so long ago. In my longing, I diffuse my love by pure intent. Anticipation leads the way towards disappointment. That face I cradled is now ghostly, my woman, is no longer she, an outline, a prayer, a fascination with reverie. I love her, I love her so much...I love her and yet, she, is gone. The edge of my poem is barbed, the taste of her is tempered with dull waters. When we made love I needed no sound, I slept so peacefully, by her side. Her breathing was a silent orchestra. I woke up to strings in the morning. My lungs breathed a symphony. Now, desire grows beside the sound of a record stuck. Beatuiful birds get their wings stuck in small cracks. And I still love her. 2 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

poem 3 [10 Sep 2010|12:51am] When she lies down there is only blankness, a cold wooden floor, and a slightly open door, a breathing slowing, she can feel it going, 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

poem 2 [09 Sep 2010|11:15am] My heart's so pretty, but it's gotten lost in dark woods, these roots are killing time, and i'm not waking up today Get yer lovely gas giants here.

Poem 1 [08 Sep 2010|04:36pm] Senses become dissipated over time, lips melt snow, the streets lose their glow, love is found hungover on London's streets. 6 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

So, how are we doing? [08 Sep 2010|03:34pm] Five years on, here's a quiz to update nobody that gives a cunting shit. [ a b o u t m e ] [name ] : Neil. Or Phyllis. You choose. [ birthday ] : September 6th, 1976 [ location ] : Canterbury, England. [ height ] : 5'9" [ siblings ] : Bolb and Dawn. [ pets ] : None. Des is now departed, a ghost cat chasing shadows. [ eye color ] : Hazel. [ hair color ] : Dark brown [ best feature(s) ] Eyes. And possibly arms. [ artistic? ] : In a writing sense, yes. [ boyfriend/girlfriend now ] : Nope. [ crush ] : I don't know. [ color of your room ] : It's light blue. [ hobbies ] : Shooting pears, gobbing into a bin and setting it alight, running into a retirement home with a klaxon. [ what were you doing 15 mins ago ]: Laughing at some old shit I wrote. How narcissistic of me. In a writing way. [ what are you wearing now ] : Some t shirt what I got in Camden, some new jeans (First in a long time, actually), and boxers. [ you drink ] : Yes. Too much. [ you shy or outgoing ] : That depends who i'm talking to. [ had fun this summer ]: Not really. [ feature you notice first ]: Eyes. Backs. Hair. [ looks/personality ] : Well, there are variances. I find someone a lot sexier if they are well intelligent and that. [ piercings ] : None. [ tan or fair ] : What, my preference? Not bothered, mate. [ age difference limit ] : Couldn't give a pig's anus. [ smart/dumb ] : Smart. I like smart ladies. [ funny/serious ]: I oscillate wildly between the two. I can be very silly, often completely inappropriately, and vice versa. [ m o r e a b o u t m e... ] [ chocolate milk, or hot chocolate ] : Chocolate milk [ mcdonalds or burger king ] : Fuck you. [ coke or pepsi ] : I'd rather have some nice milk, thanks. [ would you wanna marry your best friend, or the perfect lover ] : Well, my best friend is related, so it would have to be the latter, wouldn't it? [ tea/coffee/cappuccino ] : Tea [ cats or dogs ] : Cats [ milk, dark, or white chocolate? ] : White. [ sunny or rainy ] : Rainy. [ summer/spring ] : Don't like 'em. Autumn all the way, mate. [ vanilla or chocolate ] : Chocolate [ biking or blading ] : I don't care for either. [ cereal or toast ] : Cereal [ fav. genre of music ] : Dirty rock. [ bunk or water bed ] : A bed full of my own piss. [ r e l a t i o n s... ] [ Best friend(s) ] : Bolb, Richi. [ Friends that you look like ] : I don't. I look like me. Like a cubist portrayal of a berk as viewed in a hall of mirrors. [ Who you go to for advice the most ] : My ex girlfriends. I don't know why. They're just pretty smart, I suppose. That's why I went out with them. Natch. [ should talk to more ] : Jim Pigballs. I don't know. [ skinniest ] : Gasman. Doesn't exist. [ loudest ] : Grimau. Does exist. [ craziest ] : Sarah, perhaps. She's quite, quite insane. [ funniest ] : Bolb. [ nicest ] : They're all nice. [ shortest ] : Zoe. [ tallest ] : BEN and TIM, the ents out of LORD OF THE CHRISTING RINGS. [ changed your life the most ] : Suzanne JS. [ f a v e s...] [ color ] : Black. [ movie ] : Alien. [ subject ] : English. [ ocean or pool ] : Ocean. [ laugh or cry ] : Both. [ silver or gold ] : Silver. [ diamonds or pearls ] : Pearls. [ sunset or sunrise ] : Sunset [ showers or baths ] : Showers [ food ] : Chicken. [ snack ]: Pasta things. [ card game ] : Fuck the Queen! [ all-time song ] : "Misty", by Ella Fitzgerald. [ current song ] : "Faster", by the Manics. It's old, but I listen to it a lot. [ rap song ] : Rap has been shit since 50 Cent fucked it free of all meaning. [ holiday ] : I want to go to America. Or Japan. [ movie star ] : I find them mostly dull. It's like they think they're someone else or something. Jerkoffs. [ magazine ] : Pfft. [ tv show ] : Twin Peaks. [ Disney character ] : Fuck Disney. [ animal ] : Cats. [ drink ] : Guinness [ cologne ]: I rarely wear it. I don't know why. [ perfume ] : What do I care? It does nothing for me, sons. [ brand of sneaker ] : Sigh... [ activity ] : Wanking while parachuting. [ fruit ] : Bananas [ juice ] : Pineapple. [ d o y o u ...? ] [ do you like school ] : When I noticed girls existed, yes. Not that it did me any fucking good at the time, lolzorz. [ do you like to talk on the phone ] : Not really. [ do you have your own phone line ] : Jen me flatmate does. But I hardly use it. [ do you like to dance ] : I would love it a lot more if I didn't smoke or drink. I want to do salsa. But it would take a lot to control vices. Perhaps that would be a good reason, no? [ l a s t t i m e y o u ... ] [ last time u showered ]: Yesterday. [ went running] : I generally don't. [ worked out ] : I work out by working, mate. [ danced like a frickin idiot ] : Not for a while. [ went to a movie ] :December 2003. Still the case. I fucking hate cinemas. [ talked on the phone ] : Yesterday, to Georgia, about some order or something. [ wished u were sumbody else ] : I never have done. Ironic, when you consider my difficulties with myself. [ r a n d o m... ] [ where would you love to travel to? ] : America. I have a lot of people to see. [ whats ur middle name? ] : Alan. [ is ur hair color natural? ]: Yes. [ do u have a cell phone? ] : Yes. [ whats ur online screen name ] : Zoo3ropa [ what do u want to do with your life? ] : Have lots of sex and love and shit, yeah? [ last time u went bowling ] : With some friends, in about 2007. I got a strike and everything. [ are u any good at bowling ] : I was alright. [ last time u went to the doctor ] : Last year, for a ball scan. That means testicles. Everything appears to be fine. [ do u have a credit card ] : No. [ do u consider urself a "nice" person ] : Yes, but slightly temperamental. [ last book ] : Charlie Brooker's The Hell Of It All. [ are u stressed out? ] : Not really. There's no point anymore. [ do u believe in angels? ] : Nope. [ what are u driving now? ] : A clown's car, into a school crowd. [ do u think ur spoiled? ] : No. [ do u like mustard? ] : Yes I do. [ ketchup? ] : Yes, I like it. For fuck's sake. [ mayo? ] : Yes. [ have u seen the exorcist? ] : Nope. [ how bout dumb & dumber? ] : Yes. [ ever been skydiving? ] : No. [ number of piercings ] : None. Well, that was a massive waste of time. Be you later. Get yer lovely gas giants here.

A fun entry from the other day. [08 Sep 2010|02:43pm] It is not my birthday. It is two days before. However, it is Saturday night, and this means that celebrations start now. We’re all off out, but first, this shit. This morning while making the world’s most clumsy lasagne, I was busy cackling my head off at absolutely nothing. Red faced and wheezing with laughter, one of those mornings. I skipped about like a prick in that kitchen, listening to U2. It was a damned blast my friends, oh yes. Ben is a dog. He is a big white dog. If you will, he’s a small pony with a dog’s face. Big black eyes, funny face. The sort of face that stares at you, either through you or into your soul. Thing is, Ben only really barks when he doesn’t know who it is who is there, for example, when you first enter the building. The rest of the time he moves around fairly silently. Funny thing is, whenever I turn around he seems to be there. He’s like a stalker. A dog stalker. That’s MY idea, Ben. Get your own idea. Today Ben stood in the doorway from the bar to the kitchen, and gave it the right eyeball. Everytime I would walk past, he’d follow me with his dog’s face gaze, black eyes bolted to my face. Every single time I looked around, he’d be staring at me. Emotionless. Thing is, i can’t do that “WHAAAASAAAT? BEN? EH? WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” and lob a thing or something. I am the same with dogs and kids. I get awkward. So I walk past him doing a thumbs up. “Alright Ben? How’s being a dog working out for yer, eh?” Well, fuck. The dog still sits there, staring at me. I gave him some ham, and he fucked off for a bit. I went about my business, and suddenly, WHOA! There he was again. Just staring. I start to go a bit insane, and say things like this: “What are you, judging me with your face? Starin’ Ben, the starin’ dog. Starin’ all day long. You know what Ben. You’re like a dog’s face screen burn, right in my mind. Like a canine fucking Turin Shroud. I bet you can read minds.” Nothing. Just a stare. If you took a picture of his face and hung it on a wall, it would look the same as him animated. Because he didn’t move. I am now seeing Ben’s face in my head. It’s become a memory I can’t shift. Thing is, i’ll now be thinking about this all year. And I am also convinced that he’s going to be everywhere I go, just STANDING THERE STARING AT ME. My next romantic dalliance, he’ll be in the room watching me on the job. My wedding, he’ll be there, same face, behind the vicar, chilling me to the bone with his face. My last ever sight will be of him in a doctor’s uniform. I bet. Dear Ben. Please stop haunting my day. Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[25 Mar 2010|12:39am] Right, after something of a lengthy hiatus, here I am again. Basically, a lot of time has passed and with it, some things happened. I had a second relationship, which ended amicably, I continued work in Canterbury, and moved there, which is where I am right now. That's pretty much it. Times are good, if littered with hilarious obstacles. All part of the fun. Right, sod off. I need to find a lighter. 3 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

That's why they don't call me Slim Shady, but i'm back anyway. [25 Mar 2010|12:35am] Hello. Another night in on my own. It has to be said, the adrenaline of work works much better in a body that works better. Or something. Now alcohol free for two days, and fuller of food, I feel as fit as a fiddle that has been pronounced the fittest fiddle in fiddle university. I intend to go for a diploma in it. It interests me just how truly agile and stuff I could be, given a better diet and less booze. Well, it's primarily up to me, isn't it? And all that money is going to be put to a good use. I could make 800 in three weeks, which isn't bad at all. If you're watching on Blurty, hello, i'm back. Journals will now both be run concurrently. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[23 Sep 2009|12:41am] I've caught myself, busy chasing swirling stars, longing for something. I had this taste in my mouth, of blood, of my veins bursting, of a kiss full of life. I went walking, tonight, I curled my hands around my books, I ached for the returning, to the time before I slept in her presence, before I, with elation, tasted her sugar lips, before the hands had shaken, before my soul had shifted, before the night had fallen, before I had a chance to fuck, to go back, would I have done things differently? No. But the innocent in me, wishes, and strives for it, for that part of me that sat in the garden, that night, turning leaves and turning thoughts, breaking waves and breaking bone china, lost in that sea, tipping and turning in the dread of human heartbreak, existing betwixt the love of primate and sapien, pounding the ground, smelling the earth, lost in you, lost in life, and never, never so lost to reality that I can't hit your ground running, to feel the ecstasy of that first orgasm, to feel my heart pounding as all ten of your searching fingers and thumbs reach around me, employ every nerve ending you have in response to mine, in this all too brief expulsion of primal lusts. 5 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[17 Sep 2009|11:39pm] Can't help the part of me that loves the dance, that subtle indecision, the tipping and succumbing to the rhythm, the bloody sweet drama, who loves you? Who hide within you, within this cul-de-sac? Who's going to come for you, blustery, losing the ability to speak...who will find you on this night? I find you in pretty gowns, but appreciate them, I do not, for I am unspoken, I am losing myself in the clouds...a simple and forgotten fairy tale. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[04 Sep 2009|08:42pm] It's an odd kind of evening, when you suddenly find yourself reading something someone wrote about you, to you, three years ago. I'm in a tired, and yet again, thoughtful mood. I'm out of here tomorrow, and I won't be back likely until Monday. Time to have some fun. Ciao. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[28 Aug 2009|07:47am] The oddest thing, the way light played with the peripheral vision, he thought while sitting at his desk. It was a naturally wonderful morning, unmoved by pollution, not a suggestion of dust, or manhandled heat, just a light breeze, and the promise of a world anew, and he had no better commitment that day than a small, family hosted party celebrating his brother's engagement. He should have been in a relaxed, and refreshed state of mind. However, he kept coming back to it, as the cigarette mixed scents with the coffee and tumbled across his vision. A growing sense of unease had gripped him, quite peculiarly, during an otherwise serene morning rhythm. An incident, physical, that morning, Underneath the apple tree, shimmering in the garden, a puncture in the perfect harvest, a pricking of the balloon. Despite the dewy and humid warmth, he shivered, and cold clinical hands scuttled across his back, leaving reminding goose-pimples. He had tried to put this one to bed, rake over with dead leaves and forget, but still, the sense remained etched on him, like a screen-burned thought. These thoughts escalated from a simple musing, to a deep thinking, to a panic, to a hurried search for keys, for escape, for anything. Locking the thought in, he drew up another inhale on the cig, tapped it out, and headed for the bathroom, still thinking, still internally going over the same hamster's wheel, time and time again. His brow furrowed as he searched through a yearbook life, mentally scanning faces, reactions, for anything, anything that could explain this feeling now. Shaved ten years off, staving away those thoughts again, with a simple act. Rubbed his chin and clicked the light off again. 5 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

From Friday. [17 Aug 2009|04:18pm] Later on, if I get back, or when I get back, be it tonight or tomorrow, i'll tell you all about my hilarious and explicit long standing horn for Mariah Carey. 'twill amuse, I feel. Remember the Victoria Stilwell shite I used to write? Well, this one will be the ultimate. It's going to be incredibly naughty, and rude, and all kinds of FUN SHIT GEEZERS. Stand by for that, at some point. Anyway, following on from Anive's brilliant made up LJ usernames, here are some of my own. After t'quiz, Bolb tagged eight people that don't exist. I think my favourite was Shirt-pulling drunk. Here are some of my own, sons. Billy pirate bummer. Sod Tuesday. Hammer Facial, Indistinct stink, Balloon loon, get out of my newsagent, Colonel Beak, Sundried clit, Banger the musical, my penis is a bee, luncheon malfunction, gonad druid, spider in your foreskin, scream dreaming, on the bus with bowel surgery, bloody hell what's that smell, coughing my lung into your mouth, swedish holiday blues, sex is best with your wife not mine, tarantulas wore the vests, pikey and mikey, chav and ras, where's my skin gone?, beer for lunch bums and lungs for dinner, Riotous disputes on the tube, my mother is your lover and your father is my brother just sayin', OH! DO THAT AGAIN JEEVES!, wrestling bears for money, circus beaks, orgasms and muscle spasms which is best?, concert for androids, flea morten harket, white snow, david's gone for rizlas want anything?, NO, THIS PIZZA IS NOT ACCEPTABLE FOR A POUND, Jack Slammer, meat pistons, longing for a dusty old book, strangling is the new kareoke, Ben has a breast in his thumb, Stadium retard, Cracking time for a bonkette, I think my anus is the new Space, let's watch Star wars while eating bricks, Wanking in church, I like this pear but I fucking hate the apple, Starsky? Not Much, Hasslehoff is king Nazi here, My ZX81 has the horn dude, Nintendon't, Ghostbusters Flue, Spunking one for grandma, trapped in her basement with a dildo up my arse, cracking time for a cartoon bomb, Fifty cent has changed denomination to pennies, Where's Bellamy?, the clit was grit, savage blowjobbery, Tom Bum, Jeremy and the magic whore, bacon is my lover, where's the detergent? Bossing the road, this window's not for staring BUT THIS ONE IS! I've got a million of 'em. NOW FUCKING GET OUTTA HERE! I love you all. Bye now. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

From Sunday. [17 Aug 2009|04:17pm] Last night, as I dozed peacefully on the couch at B&R's place, I experienced a dream. It was a dream, shown in a form of both pictoral and literal, in video, and text. In terms of impact, it was the most intense dream i'd ever had. It was actually inspired, I think, by residual feelings in me, that I don't particularly care for. And those feelings, despite my better thinking, permeated, and created this dream. I woke up feeling rather unpleasant initially, because they're the sort of feelings that in a weaker me, would have created some sort of negative feeling. However, in me, they just made me think. I lay awake, for a good three hours, thinking about the dream. I had absolutely no sadness, when I should possibly have had. But I got to thinking, I had the dream as a woman. Not just any woman. I dreamt the dream as a woman I know. In her mind, through her eyes, vicariously, I lived in her head, in her heart, and I wrote a post in livejournal, as her. I wrote it, and I read it, as me. Sound confusing? It is. But this is the most interesting bit. It was beautiful. Though this post should have made me feel sad to read, I read it, and I loved it. It was all about the touchings of sexual desire, and how it clashes with the reining in, the holding back, the part of one that strives to keep the body and head and heart safe, from being hurt. From relenting to love, and romance. I think I was dreaming about my feelings, and assuming a female role. A specific female role. What is really interesting is, I think very much like a woman. I am a man, in every way I could possibly be. I'm a sack of muscle and bone and cock and all that blokey shit, and I quite like the way I am, thanksverymuchlolz, but..... My female mind is what i'm quite proud of. It gives me this cadent, sensitive intuition. I balance my man side with my woman side. I don't know if the essence of man is entirely capable of that. I don't know if the average female is, in fact. But last night, I dreamt as a woman. I slept again, and I woke up feeling calm, and relaxed. I wrote a beautiful post, in a dream, as a woman. About a woman's desires, a woman's feelings, and as read, by a man. Me. It was altogether, quite the oddest experience i've had in years. But a good one. I think.... Perhaps I can explain better at some other time. I don't know. I am a strange, strange man. Cheers. 2 Fake planet lovers| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

Some post updates I thought I should copy and paste for the Blurty guys. All three of you. [17 Aug 2009|04:15pm] Hello. I have a hangover. It's because of a ridiculous drinking game called Fuck The Queen, involving some ridiculously swift drinking. At least, it does if you're bad at it like I am. Lots to say, really. But no energy to say it. I have a big decision to make, one year on from the last one. It could take me into the unknown yet again, but the change was beneficial last time. Big elements of risk, but I find they become worth taking. At least, they have so far. I've been doing a lot of thinking this week, and this is the thought process: Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex Sex Other stuff Sex Sex Sex It's ridiculous. I have a raw and frustrated sex drive at the moment, which needs releasing, because it's frankly getting on my nerves. I mean, i've always been a dirty little pervert when it comes to thinking about it, and, when I actually get to do it, but never like this. For fuck's sake, sons. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

[06 Aug 2009|01:56pm] That i'm here at all is largely because of Livejournal not working. I view Blurty as an old, senile workhorse; gentle, placid, old, desperate, lethargic. On it's way to the glue factory. That being said, I still cling to it, like the last survivor of a ship wreck clings to a bit of old driftwood. How are you? You alright? Let me fill you in on the last few months so that you know what fucking happened to me. I last really wrote on here in February. It was around the time I lost interest in Blurty, and started writing more on Livejournal. Barring today, it's more reliable, has more features, and has not been abandoned to the ravages of crap. Crap being the amount of fucking fake journals being created to sell something. It really is starting to irritate. I have done some romancing this year, some more growing up, and some more seeking acquired wisdom. Am now single again, but even more mature as a result. However, as I was mutually agreeing with the ex, sometimes growing more cynical about love makes it more and more difficult to approach a crush with a sincere relenting. Does it completely go? So that's pretty much what happened. I hope to me moving soon, which will mean no internet for a while. Possibly. 1 Fake planet lover| Get yer lovely gas giants here.

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