I was going to write my own blog post today. I had much to discuss. Much.
Then someone threw kittens into the path of my train of thought, it didn't derail, but the windsheild sure got furry:
*This email started with songs with my name in, which, if the sender proves to be correct, has doubled the amount I was aware of to a staggering 2*
So then I got to thinking about girls names in songs, sung by boys, of which there are heaps and heaps and from this, songs about boys names, written by girls. And, er, I cant think of a single one.
Nearest I got was Denise, Blondie. But this is Denise. Is Dennis in French Denise?
In English it would be Dennis Dennis, with your eyes so blue, Dennis Dennis, I got a crush on you which doesnt really work does it?
So then, given the paucity of girls singing about boys, I wondered about replacing girls names with boys names
Kevin's Clown? - Everley Brothers. But this is boys singing about themselves, and we dont get the boys name
I'm Andy, Fly Me, perhaps? 10CC. Its just not the same.
Lucas in the sky with diamonds??
I suppose for me, you could have Jimmy Jimmy. Old Fergal and The Undertones. But this is boys singing about a boy too .
Oh Cecil? Good ol Neil Sedaka Hmm perhaps not
Michael ?? - Beatles again
Whats with the lack of girls singing boys names anyway? Who knows? Do we care? Still, this is what occupies me in bored moments at work, of which there are far too many.
Anyway, hope you are well, and everything in your world is rosy. The days are getting longer, and Spurs beat Arsenal 5 - 1. You cant buy that pleasure .
Often wondered about that. Why the fuck not? Its a bit like other lame phrases, like, the meek shall inherit the Earth What a load of bollocks
I am off for a glass of plonk.
Love
You've got to like the bloke haven't you?
*Disclaimer for SBT who I know is bristling. I knowyou had probably thought of this first.x
I bought a book called Varmints because I liked the cover.I've never done that before.
I read the book.
It is the most stark, insightful, representation of my thoughts.
It feels like raking earth over concrete and feeling that 'screeeeeeee' right up your arm, like licking terracotta, chewing cotton wool, catching the paintwork with your fingernail as you shut the car door, that eerie feeling you sometimes just can't shake about a wardrobe door left ajar.
Someone just did something silly whilst drunk on drinks.
I'll tell you about that in a minute, but for the moment, I went shopping for cupcakes today and was attacked ( I say attacked, but what I actually mean was attacked) by the most horrendous storm I've seen for years. Whole sheets of lightning, hail being blown so hard it was sticking to my coat after being blustered sideways etc etc.
Whilst in the shop I decided to see what was on discount in the veg department (I love that we discount food because one has to cook it that evening - HEAVEN'S TO MERGATROID!) and I found fruit.
Blackberries and strawberries (num num - I love anything crammable) but also a yummy kiwi/pineapple/melon affair. Something I would usually peel my eyelids with a rusty wire before paying cash for.
However, I was hungry, and after a minor internal struggle:
Me: It's cheap you know, and indeed delicious.
Me 2:You're still paying a premium to have poeple chop your fucking fruit for you. Who do you think you are? The fucking Sun King?
Me: Shut up.
I bought and ate it. It was surprisingly unsatisfying.
So, The person who was drunk on drinks said:
I have this ridiculous notion of making you smile...
Of my blog from page one I have discovered 2 things thuis far (am on page 2)
1.I'm a fucking lunatic and I listen to the Pogues a lot.
2. This is fucking funny and I think we should all do it again and post pictures in our albums:
It is my deepest desire Jun 28, 2007 9:38 pm Mood: thirsty, 488 views That each and every one who reads this post spends at least part of the weekend wearing a silly hat, a large badge that says 'you're a cunt', one shoe, a wig or antannae made from tin foil, a tail, head to foot body paint, feathers in their hair, smudged mascara, braces with shorts, wings, deely boppers or a placard/sandwich board bearing some kind of legend
The most important part of this project, and for it to work is for the wearer to deny all knowledge of whichever item they have chosen to adopt to anyone who asks about it. Here endeth the message
You want me to pay nearly a million quid for a house away from sheep, or, even more worryingly a house near them.
Okaaaaaaay.
Forget it, I'll build my own.
What?
I said I'll build my own; and just to annoy you even more I'll build it out of stuff you have to pay people to take away, yet managing to resist the lure of becoming a tofu-wearing, funny-smelling, wooly-headed and oh-so slightly embittered Pagan. I'll just be a regular Pagan.
I'll filter my own water thanks, I found a rather good free way of doing it, yet I'll resist the urge to use my grey water to grow hemp for weaving into hairy cardigans ta.
I'll make my own power as well, much as I like yours, mine's kinda...er....free. Yet I will resist the urge to stop eating anything with a face.
I promise never to tie-die anything unless it is for the amusement of children and I swear solemnly to continue laughing at men with beards unless they are Brian Blessed or my future Husband (although I would call his more of a rich, luscious covering of manliness)
I hereby swear not to buy more than one wind-chime for the rest of my life (everybody must own one wind-chime in their lives - tis law), bore anyone with the advantages of composting loos that look like loos rather than big holes with shit in (it's tempting mind) and I will never tell anyone that Sunday lunch had a name, even if it was a particularly amusing one like Delores.
I promise to light more fires, hold festivals and whole-heartedly embrace the culture of behaving 'badly' which is a bit rich coming from me...
Why is all this? Well the city smells, and I miss my sister - she sent me the picture attached here yesterday, and I realised that even though we are from different mothers, and were raised apart, we are very much the same family and should stick together and build weird stuff.
I tend to write my longer blog posts in my head whilst I sit in traffic, the I actually get to my computer and all my eloquence and relevance goes 'wheeeeeeeeeee' and I end up swearing about something.
I wrote a book with my sister on the phone on Saturday - "Moose VS Elk, a Novella in one part" it may not be the World's sexiest or indeed challenging tome, however it is a book; and we did write it. In between heaving peals of laughter about a woman wearing a strawberry suit and dancing. But that's another post entirely.
What I have been thinking about a lot recently is 'why?' and the implications of that question. Taking things down to their lowest common denominator and then deciding how you feel. Like a marble rolling through a bendy drainpipe in a cartoon before boinking to the ground on your head and you going "fuck yeah - that makes sense now"
Indoctrination, how much of your behaviour is predestined by simply not asking the question 'why?' how much of your life? I've never held a job with what one might describe as regular hours simply because after a series of 'why's' I decided I'd rather not spend my whole life waiting for pre-ordained days of celebration and rest, but rather live my whole life like some kind of festival.
I must go to work to live.
WHY?
Because you just need money for some things.
Ok, but I can choose not to do that either right?
I must wake up when it's cold, commute with thousands of other closely packed, sweaty, sick creatures in a tin can full of recycled farts, germs and terrorists.
WHY?
Because it's what people do.
WHY?
Erm...they just do.
But surely work time is no longer dictated by the rising of the sun, or the working week, or the seasons, or anything really is it? We could all just do what needed to be done when it was needed and it would all still get done, traffic would cease to exist, people who wanted to blow us up wouldn't know where we all were, Facebook would collapse, people wouldn't think summer was 2 weeks long (unless they live in London) people could pick up their kids and earn a living, in fact, many many good things would happen.
It applies to pretty much everything - how much of your day do you question? When was the last time you decided to have a celebration just because it was Tuesday and you were in a really good mood? Decided today was the day you would eat nothing but ice cream wearing your underpants? If you stop nannying humans, and let them be responsible for their own patch, you'll find they will actually get things done after an initial period of flux.
It used to be that the smart people were in the city, making money, being all clever and wordy.
Now it's the other way round, the smart people are buggering off away from all the sheep. Sheep used to be in the country, now they're in houses they have no idea how to run bleating 'feeeeeed me' 'buy my kids an iPod' 'fix this plug - iiissss dangerous' Sheepy litigious wailing from a generation so wrapped in wool they have no idea where anything comes from. Even the wool.
So in one of my 'why' sessions I decided I don't like being near toxic people and am going to build my own utopia, as one does of a Tuesday.
Until I marry Russel Brand it would appear my biggest claim to fame would be the creation of the phrase 'significant otter'
Fine by me.
I am also keen to hear more from the man who emailed me today about tricking squirrels. There's a blog post in there, I can feel it. It will be just like the funny squirrell post I meant to do ages ago but forgot.
In the meantime here's a picture of my future husband (I hope the current soon-to-be-ex husband and the boyfrined are ok with that)