I’m bloody exhausted.
Category: Random
Navel-gazing bollocks. Discuss…
Weblogs are navel-gazing bollocks produced by self-important/obsessed neurotics with too much time on their hands. Discuss
There could have been another weblogger at the Time Out party in New York on the weekend…
Headfuck song of the day…
Be Aggressive by Faith No More.
Apparently, I’m a 4.3…
I am, it seems, a 4.3.
While I was sleeping…
Apparently, while I was asleep last night, someone crept into my bedroom, tattooed KICK ME or LOSER on my head, gave me a quick post-hypnotic suggestion so I wouldn’t be able to see it, and sent me out in the world for people to systematically shit on. This is the only theory I can come up with today. Literally the only answer.
On publicly quantified hotness…
I’ve just submitted my photo to amihotornot.com – which has to be the most evil thing I’ve ever seen in my life. What a wonderful idea though… I’d put up the direct URL of my image, but I fear that might skew the results. I’ll keep you informed though…
“Take their refusal as a gift”
Interesting quote (I forget where from), only loosly amended:
“Love is a strange thing; it depends what one gives — and sometimes to give means give someone away. Jane Siberry said that, and I endorse it. If they are the fickle whore they seem, they are at least a whore with a conscience. Everything they touch, they destroy, and they like you too much to destroy you. Take their refusal as a gift. Take every experience as a gift. Some come in strange wrapping paper, but they are gifts just the same.”
Section erased, elegant site restored…
// SECTION ERASED BECAUSE I COMPLETELY MISSED THE POINT //
Apologies to TECHNORGANIC ™, which is a very elegant and well designed site…
Just a bit of clarification for those of you who have been confused. The thing I wrote yesterday about New York really is from my teenage diary of 1991, which I am planning to start running in concert with my new ramblings. I’ll let you know all about what I did in NY properly as soon as I get a good half an hour to myself in which I’m not working or retching.