Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!'s Blurty Day [entries|friends|calendar]
Those perishin' spheres! Dozens of 'em!

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[30 Oct 2006|03:09pm]
I think I shall be putting off college tonight. The arse end of this cold means that i'm still coughing and weary and don't want to make the schlepp over to Canterbury to sit for two hours hacking away in front of others. I'm sure I won't miss out on too much, it's usually quite relaxed and any further paperword this week I can look at next week.

Work had the potential to be a lot more busy, but the rush never materialised. Up to a hundered from a funeral party were said to be coming, but only a few did.

I am going to stay in again I think, and let myself recover. With some Dragon's Quest and tea. I might see about more of those metal king slimes. My fist, in their faces. Right now.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

You'll have what Jeff Links. [30 Oct 2006|03:14pm]
http://youtube.com/watch?v=4hRSHQjYH_A

A song that got my ass through, a little and a long while ago. This is sublime. Feel the Buckley!


Soundtrack to personal healing and overcoming the melancholy of last year. Things get much, much better in the end, as I discovered. I may not have all the things and moods I want, but i'm happier.

Thanks, Jeff.

Jeff Buckley - Lover, you shoulda come over.

Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe Im too young to keep good love from going wrong
But tonight youre on my mind so you never know

Broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage hes done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one

So I'll wait for you... and I'll burn
Will I ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn

Oh lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that will never come

Its never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
Its never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her
Its never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
Its never over, shes the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

Well maybe Im just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh... lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late

Well I feel too young to hold on
And I'm much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage Ive done
Sweet lover, you shouldve come over
Oh, love well Im waiting for you

Lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late
Get your lovely gas giants here!

Charlie Brooker Link of the day [30 Oct 2006|03:36pm]
The bit you mainly want to look at is Jackanory Hell Slam, near the bottom.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/Columnists/Column/0,,1934883,00.html

Now THAT'S my boy.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[30 Oct 2006|03:49pm]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlotte_Gainsbourg

Today I was woken up by this playing on my Winamp playlist. I usually have on Journey Into Space, which is starting to drive me batshit, as i've heard it every night for the last twelve million weeks. I'm going to have to put some Lord of the Rings audiobooks on instead soon before I cave my head in with a brick.

Anyway, I slept soundly and smoothly last night...no booze to interrupt my R.E.M and quite happily I was in the land of nod. I arose early in the morning to this girl's voice. Somehow she'd crept on to my playlist (Probably because of Bolb putting it there earlier) and her French tones tickled my ears, danced on my lips and stroked me gently awake.

It was bliss. Like being woken up by the gentle carress of an angel's tit.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[30 Oct 2006|03:54pm]
Thanks to the benevolence of Daniel, I now have three Grand Theft Auto games. I did borrow San Andreas, but after he sold me his Ps2, he said I could keep it. So, in effect, a massive bargain is mine.

The problem is, I always play GTA the same way. I manage the first few, simple missions. Riding bikes. Running over some gang members. Something to do with that bouncing thing they do in Dre videos. But when the heat gets up I get frustrated. So I revert simply to wandering about swinging bats and firing guns.

I'm not very good at it, in other words. But i've got three different ones to not be very good in now. Yay!

What I find slightly amusing about these games is that they provide ample impetus and ways to create as much sickening mayhem as possible. You can crack heads, crash cars, blow up cars, run over people, fly planes and fire rockets into the street. If I saw this kind of thing in real life i'd be hiding under a table and shitting myself sore. I am a glass-jawed, grass eating pacifist (Aside a few unwanted confrontations). But I love playing GTA. Perhaps it's the release, the stupidity, the chucklesome non-stop silliness of it all.

But it's bloody good fun.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[30 Oct 2006|11:13pm]
Eye seeks socket to sit in staring out at world. No time wasters.

Foot seeks hand to perform brilliant foot-hand duo combination for party events. Must have own glove.

Cock seeks pussy. No cats. Must have own clitoris.

Plug socket seeks plug. Must be three pin kind, no adaptors. For an electric time. Buzzing personality.

Light seeks switch to turn me on.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

[30 Oct 2006|11:15pm]
It's eleven o clock.

I made it. I did it again. Another night in, without drinking.

Well done to bloody old me. Probably wise, given my health.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

She hands her head [30 Oct 2006|11:18pm]
She hangs her head
in the frame.

Her dress is bitter blue
, and her surroundings
are grey.

The end of her hair
glows gold,
but her heart sits in a cage.
She hangs her head
down further,
and the frame breaks.

Out she spills,
covering the floor
with all her colour,
she flows
in red and gold,
blue and grey....

her dress seeps
in between the floorboards,
and the old stone floors
soak her up.

She hangs her head.
Get your lovely gas giants here!

Call [30 Oct 2006|11:27pm]

It's true he calls your name,
whispers it sometimes,
maybe enough to echo..
in a small space,
a sad little quiet place.

but he doesn't use the same name,
doesn't bear the same graces..
doesn't kiss the same faces,
but he still calls your name..

when he's out of town..
amongst little night lights,
but doesn't bear to scream your name,
can't bear to see it doused and set in flame,

because your name he can't hear too loud..
because it doesn't sound the same,
now he doesn't call your name
Get your lovely gas giants here!

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