Dreaded Lurgie

It seems to me that these days, if you want to get famous all you need to do is learn an obscure instrument popular in one of the celtic nations in the 16th century, and then just wait for your phone call from Sting.

I'm ill. But Bon Iver is making it better.

Fall of the Berlin Wall - 20 years on.

The Sound of Silence

Zennor Road

I went for a drive with Laura today. The Zennor road was the first road I ever drove on and is still the best road I've ever driven. Especially in the dying light of a summers evening where the hazy sky hanging over the distant horizon is a marmalade orange hue.

I've been getting sloppy with blog entries. They have become less frequent. And when they have emerged, very often they are rather unimaginative.

Now if you will excuse me, I'm off to start Season 4 of The Wire.

oh dear oh dear oh dear

My whole family erupted into childish giggles when Mum's sticky toffee pudding arrived at her table in the restaurant this evening. We were all thinking the same thing. It looked like a giant turd. It didn't help the fact the toffee sauce that surrounded the mound was a stained yellow colour. I couldn't help myself, and found myself spouting any filthy joke that came to mind. At one point I did go 'It looks like Horse turd!' rather loudly and I think some people heard. Oh dear, oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

I am going to Portugal with Laura and her family for 3 weeks. Life is goooooood.

My writing has become so disjointed of late. It no longer flows. Well... That is me assuming that it once did. Perhaps an arrogant viewpoint to take. But then again, where did modesty get anyone? I shall have to tend to this ailment and get my writing back up to scratch. Apologies to my English teachers at school wot got me too rite good engerlish.

bored

I've totally lost the will to keep this blog up. I don't even know if anyone reads it.

Erm... so yeah.

What's happened since the last post?

Exams... Gordon nearly went... BNP got into European Parliament... and Susan Boyle went skitz.

I am in the process of painting my room. Wikid.

Love, Hate, Think, Believe, Feel, Wish

If you visit ANY website today, visit this one.



It scrolls updated tweats that have been posted from around the world containing the words love, hate, think, believe, feel and wish.

I can't tell you how awesome this site is. Just go on it.

http://twistori.com/

Twitpocalypse.

Apparently, in similar fashion to the supposed Millenium Bug, when this counter of twitter tweets reaches a certain number, Twitter-as-we-know-it will destroy itself. Perhaps not as gloriously as that suggests, but it will break.

Of course this could be, like the Millenium Bug, a load of hot air.

The twitpocalypse site explains.

Blogger is being a reet knob'ed and wont let me paste the link. You're going to have to paste this in your browser I'm afraid.

http://www.twitpocalypse.com/
http://www.twitpocalypse.com/
http://www.twitpocalypse.com/

Lady Gaga - Poker Face (Acoustic)

I'd rather be picking daisies.

First History of Art exam today. It went well. I wrote fluidly and eloquently, I am quite pleased to say. I opened the paper, flicked through the images and just went 'Shit.' but as soon as I got the ball rolling I managed to find quite a bit to say. Rodin's Balzac was the most recognisable piece of the bunch, however out of the three, I found this the hardest to write about. I think it's because it was sculpture and I'm pretty poor when it comes to sculpture if it isn't Neo-Classical or Italian Futurist.

I came home and went to the cemetary. I sat under the tree next to Dad's spot and I read for a while. Came across some brilliant Wordsworth poems I had never spied in the old book before. I must have been there for an hour. I left with a new found apprieciation for daisies. Unfortunately I found that because there was a service being held in the Chapel my car had been blocked in so I had to walk home. I then went to pick it up later after walking Laura home.

I also heard today that my AS art exam piece is being exhibited in the Truro College show in the Lemon Quay Market gallery. I had no idea until a friend text me today and told me the work is up. I am overjoyed. My first exhibited work! Haha. I am a genuine bona-fide artist.

the books - smells like content

usual drool

I was rather childish in life drawing today. The paint squirting out of the tubes made an interesting noise and I had to hold in the laughter so hard. The room was deathly silent also which didn't help. Does that make sense? Should it be deadly silent? I prefer the word deathly to deadly. Deathly is slow, black, ominous and swallowing. Deadly is fast paced and out of the blue.

Oh btw this could be my last ever post because Swine Flu has entered Devon.

It's been nice knowing you all, thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoy the rest of your lives.

I'm off to watch the snooker now. All my faves are out so I have to root for someone different this year. I tend to pick snooker players on how they look as opposed to their style of play (O'Sullivan in exception). I don't like Stephen Hendry because he looks like he's been hit in the lip with a tranquiliser dart. Ryan Day's eyes are too dark and sullen. Neither of these players made the semi's though so I'm fine. Robertson has stupid hair. Murphy looks like Chucky from Child's Play. Allen is only 4 years older than me so I am insanely jealous of him. Higgins it is then. Good old Higgins. He looks like a fairly average guy. I can support him to the end. God I love snooker.

Apocalypse now?

This coffee is disgusting. I think I may take a vow to only drink fresh coffee from now on and never drink this instant shit.



Goddd life has been hectic. My mind has been through so many states in the past 24hrs. From ecstasy and jubilation to frustration and despair. I don't want to call them mood swings because that makes me sound like a pregnant woman, but I guess that is essentially what they are. Perhaps it's something to do with the lunar calendar. Or maybe Venus is in the house of Jupiter. I have no idea what that means btw, I just think it sounds good.



I ran into St Ives today. From the bottom of my road in Carbis Bay, along the coast path, along the front, across the harbour and I made sure I touched the lighthouse before I stopped. I thought I was going to be sick at one point because it was only about an hour after breakfast, but I was OK. Go me.



Something made me laugh earlier. Someone posted this in the 'Introduction' section of a magazine in the Guardian. It's an advertisement of the arrival of the messiah from some obscure cult. Apparently people all over the world have noticed the appearance of a new star in the sky and it coincides with the coming of this Messiah who is called Maitreya. He's probably actually called something like Clive or Malcolm. Just like David Koresh, the leader of the Branch Davidians who held a siege on a building in Waco, Texas that subsequently ended up burning down and him dying. Therefore ruling him out as the real Messiah. The name David Koresh sounds lovely and Jewish and all Messiah-esque. Such a shame his real name was Vernon Wayne Howell.



Anyway, for anyone who feels persuaded by the fact that this appearance is 'stimulating debate' then here is the advert.




Convinced? I am. I'm almost ready for my belief to be tested.


Oh that was the darkest and sickest joke I've ever made. I am a hideous person.

Phobias, got well soon AND celestial thoughts.

I found the list of phobias. Not A list, but the list. It 'makes for interesting reading' as people always say. http://www.phobialist.com/

Decidophobia- Fear of making decisions
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia- Fear of the number 666
Medorthophobia- Fear of an erect penis
Papaphobia- Fear of the Pope

I used to have a mild case of Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia. If someones number had 666 in it, I couldn't dial it. I noticed the number everywhere. I still do to a certain extent, but I don't get the feelings of anxiety when I spy it.

I think the ones I've chosen their can be justified. Decisions can be horrible and I for one have certainly shied away in the face of decision making. Long words can be daunting. Which brings about the question, why are dyslexia and illiterate such hard words to spell? Erect penis' ARE terrifying, let's face it. And what of the Pope? I hear you cry!? He is surely the picture of a loving grandfather, you say?! Observe the dark rings around his eyes, his gremlin-like appearance and a smile that can only be described as flithy.

http://scrapetv.com/News/News%20Pages/Everyone%20Else/images/Pope-Benedict-at-his-election.jpg


I would now consider myself to have regained 100% health. (It wasn't glandular fever after all). I'm back off to fight in the trenches soon. But before then there is a foam party at Barn which sounds uber interesting.

What else is uber interesting is that there are 10 billion stars in the average galaxy. And all life as we know is linked by only one. I apologise if I'm seemingly more and more wacky as this blog continues, but I for one find it fascinating. I hope there is peaceful life out there. It would be rather nice to have an alien around for a cup of tea. x

Glandular Fever.

4 hours of sleep, less than 3000 calories in the last 4 days, a swollen liver and glandular fever.

I have, however, watched 8 episodes of The Wire: Season 2 in the last 2 days. I'm off to watch more now. Thats a highlight.

sorry sorry sorry

All I've eaten today is a bowl of supernoodles. I'm not at all hungry. Those who I eat lunch with at college will have noted my crammed lunchbox and insatiable appetite, however today has proved to be rather odd. I walked the coastal path from Carbis Bay to Lelant this evening. I walked across Porthkidney Sands and watched the changing colour of the sky over St Ives. The sea was of an interesting colour also. It was extremely windy, bitterly cold and the waves were very choppy and rough but in a strange sense it still looked inviting. However to my mind now that idea seems completely bizarre because I am sat shivering feverishly in a cold room. The muscles in my lower back have cramped up because of the chill. But at the time the sea looked rather fresh and clean.

Since getting back I have felt awful. That horrible ominous black cloud has floated over my head once again and I feel compelled to do nothing but sit here and think about all sorts of negative things. Consequently I'm really sorry that you have to read all this crap that comes spewing out of my mouth, I truly am. I guess a slither of me finds it theraputic to ramble on about my feelings at the expense of the reader.

What? It's not like a First bus to break down?! How peculiar!

I was sat at the back of the bus today on the way home. The carriage started filling up with engine fumes. Coming past Redruth there was a massive bang and then white smoke started pouring out of the exhaust. We pulled up on the bypass & waited for a few decades. The replacement bus was a single decker. They send a single decker to replace a double decker? Damn First buses! I had a nice spacious back seat & then I had to trade that for a step at the back of the bus.

I bought TV on the Radio's album today. Pretty smashing album. I was listening to it when I dropped Robin & Aaron home today. I left my house and the dial was below the red and on the white empty line. I still managed to drive about 5 miles. Mind you, I was travelling at 20mph most of it.

I want to go away to a city. Life in Cornwall depresses me too much. I know it's outstandingly beautiful, and I know that I don't know how lucky I am, and I know that you used to have to walk 7 miles to school when you were younger, and I know that I don't know I'm born, but I just feel that everyone down here is so blinkered and so unaccepting.

Today has been a good day, but for some reason my mood has plummeted this evening. I have so much pent-up bad emotions and feelings, I don't know how I can release them. I need to sleep I think, but I don't want to. I don't want to go to sleep because I know the next thing I will consciously experience is the harsh bleep of the alarm clock, and the ominous thoughts of a dull depressing day at college. I woke up this morning quite happy for once because I knew I didn't have maths today, but tomorrow won't be the same. I have really bad indigestion today also. :( x

helllooo i'm drunk

I saw Shanty Baba in town. The man who tells the St Ives ghost stories. I am so drunk right now. I told him that his stories were a load of bullshit. He said that it was my opinion. He then asked me to sit down with him outside the shop. So I did. He then said I should draw a dot on my forehead and stare at it. He said I'd see things that would scare me. I'm not sure if I would though. He is full of bullshit. Bullshit baba is what we should call him. But respect to him for sitting down with me and talking about Indian philosophy. No matter how much bollocks it is. Jeremy will be able to tell me if any decent philosophical theories have come from India. I'm sorry for being so fucking drunk when I post this.

i wish

Today I sat overlooking Porthmeor reading. The air ambulance came for someone and landed on the sand. I wanted to know what had happened. But I couldn't really wonder down without looking like an insufferable rubber-necked individual. I hate gossips but love gossipping. I'm just one big simmering pot of hypocrisy I'm afraid.

I was looking at the empty Woolworths today and thinking it would make a great 3 storey art gallery. And every now and again we could have a band play there on an opening night maybe. Not smallish local bands, but bands like Fleet Foxes & Radiohead. It would be amazing. Mellow music whilst people can look at art. Fleet Foxes are my new favourite band btw. People would object against it being an art gallery though. Someone always does. Somebody wrote a letter to the times & echo saying how nice it would be to turn it into an indoor market like Truro Pannier Market. Eurgh. Possibly the most disgusting idea I've ever heard. There was a rumour that Stringfellows was denied permission to use it as a lap dancing club. Haha. It will end up becoming Iceland or Argos unfortunately which is probably worse than the market idea.

And my computer screen has just rotated 90 degrees so the lines are now descending down the page. This is really weird. It's never happened before. I'm getting a crick in my neck just operating this damn thing. If anyone knows how to sort this out then comments will be much appreciated. You can tell me what you think of my Pope Benedict XVI mug too. I personally think it's the best mug ever made.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then we'll begin.


I thought my teacher was going to yell at me today. I suggested that the main cause of the Berlin Blockade was perhaps due to the fact that Truman didn't return his library books to Stalin. For a second she had this glint in her eye that suggested she was going to slaughter me. It subsided. But she still said something about taking work seriously. I was tempted to just mention that I had an unconditional offer from Falmouth so it didn't matter if I took it seriously or not but then I thought of the lecture I would get in return so I decided against the cheeky quip.

I watched Slumdog Millionaire at the cinema this evening. It was ok. One of my favourite parts was the dance that the cast did on the train platform during the end credits. That was really interesting.

When I got home, Fleet Foxes were on the culture show. So I'm in a wonderfully relaxed mood because I've listened to their album twice this evening now. I want a big bushy beard and to be as friendly as the man who lives on my road in the pickup truck. Or to be as mysterious as the alcoholic on my road. He used to be a concert pianist. But now he goes to Tesco every morning at 8am to buy beer. The other day I passed him and offered a 'hullo', to which he replied 'morning'. Then he hastily spun around and was very quick to point out that it was in fact the afternoon. As soon as he had said 'morning' I could see that he was thinking 'Oh shit! Now he's going to know I'm drunk. Better correct myself.' It was just the way he said it that made it quite funny. Perhaps I should start chatting to him.

Yet another topsy turvy day in the life of Tom

I took the car to college so I could leave early to get to the dentist on time. The dentist! I know! What a bore!

I left college early which I was glad to do. In my last period, the lecturer accused me of skiving her lessons (which I hadn't) so I got rather defensive and at one point extremely rude. Escaping the class I ran down into the estate. It was raining heavily by this point. On approaching my car I noticed I had left the lights on. Oh fantastic. This just couldn't get any better could it. I tried the ignition, hoping for the beast to fire up, but it made some measly clicks and died on me. I sat in the car, waiting for mum to drive up from St Ives so we could jump start the car. She came. Eventually. So there we were, mother and son, with their cars parked together, bonnets up in the driving rain. It was horrendous. Anyway, Team Trevorrow managed to get the car started and I drove home. I had to put up with an awful lot on the way home. Frozen feet, wet hair & wet shoes. At one point an SUV tried to merge into the very lane I was in. I had to swerve to avoid the prick. I sounded my horn. Later he overtook me and just stared at me. What a bastard.

Ah well. I can put that all behind me though, because when I got home I opened what was the best letter I have ever received.

Addressed from Falmouth, I knew this was it. In or out. I had to re-read the opening sentence several times because I couldn't find the phrase 'We are sorry to inform you' in it. It came as such a shock. I thought I had done hideously in the interview. And my portfolio contained more unfinished work than finished. Yet somehow by mistake they have offered me a place. Further good news is that it is an unconditional offer, so now that means I can lead a stress free life of aimless meandering through Zennor moor and divulging whole cheeseboards of creamy heaven. Not giving a damn about my college subjects. Ha! As if the lecturers would allow me such a pleasure! I've realised by now that the 'enriching rewards' of being a teacher is less of seeing us grow in our understanding - which is consequently what they tell us - and more the power trips of delivering their own personal brand of suffering. The amount of times I was ran into a corner by a teacher who could smell the fear and just lived off it. I think some of the most vicious two faced people I've ever met have been teachers. Teachers are nothing but mild sociopaths with qualifications.

Perhaps that statement is rather too sweeping. I know many teachers who are very pleasant, kind and forgiving. Yes. On second thoughts it's only a handful who are absolute tyrannous brutes. I should have stated that before perhaps haha! But I guess views and opinions are always much more exciting when hardened, encompassing and sure of themselves.

Although it doesn't necessarily make a person like-able. For instance Piers Morgan who is about as smug as he is both ignorant and arrogant. He seems to believe that he is some sort of Paxmanesque no-nonsense journalist who also happens to be born with a superior set of morals to everyone else, but at the same time holds the view of the majority and the respectable working man. His voice was used for a commercial recently and he said in it 'It is my opinion, and therefore a fact...' It was so incredibly frustrating when I heard it. Is he trying to get everyone to hate him? I wish he would wake up one day and realise: 'Oh my God! I'm such a cock!'

Apparently Stephen Fry made the joke: What's the definition of countryside?
Killing Piers Morgan.

Is March 1st the first day of Spring? Or is it the 21st?

I can never remember. I can't wait for winter to be over.

White is such a glorious tone. If the world was lit everywhere with pure white light. Then I'm sure people wouldn't be tired nor irritable, irksome nor angry. The world would be a much nicer place.

I think probably the greatest failure of the human race is the eternally ongoing roadworks of St Ives. One day the Lord will come and he will judge the earth on the Day of Judgement, but he will leave all the CORMAC builders on the earth to finish off the St Ives roadworks. Once again, the Stennack roundabout has been replaced by a 4 way traffic light system. I waited for ages at a red light today. Then when it finally changed, my desired route was blocked by one of their trucks. The lights then changed when I was in the junction and so I had to blind reverse around a digger into oncoming traffic in order to change my route. It's just not on. Britain is going to the dogs! Polish migrants have taken my job! There are paedophiles living in my neighborhood and the Muslims are taking over Britain! Where is my Daily Mail?!

I saw a man reading a Daily Mail the other day. I was waiting in the car at the stables for Amy to finish her lesson and he was sat in this Mercedes reading his Daily Mail. His wife was straight out of the 80s, with a Bonnie Tyler perm, pearl necklace & cream suit to match. I often look at people with more money than me and like to think that they probably very angry bitter people deep down who are very unhappy with their lives. Like the dragons in dragons den. The one thing they have in common is a default setting of 'miserable' whenever someone comes into the den. Ideas aren't met with enthusiasm but with criticism. I hate the whole notion of guilty until proven innocent. The world works on it and it chokes me.

Quote of the day:

Dialogue between a woman holding up a magazine, campaining for WWF and I:

'Wildlife? Sir?'

'Yes, very.'

---

Had an appointment with the bank today in Truro. Lord, I hate bankers. I can't think of a less noble job than taking peoples money in the way they do. Greet you with smiles. 'How can I help you?' They don't fool me. Pick pockets in suits.


Re-connected with nature again today. Climbed Rosewall hill to see the view.

Then parked up near Morvah and walked along the coast for a bit.






Shape.

Colour.


Form.


SLOW
People should slow down. Many don't read the signs. Neither do they stop to look at the views along the way.

The Poems of Jeremy Paxman

I had a dream last night. A bizarre dream. Mind you, all my dreams are bizarre. I can't recall one that hasn't been. I must psychoanalyse these dreams using Freudian theories. I'm sure it will provide some interesting results with regards to the state of my Psyche.

I was driving in my car down past the Police station in Penzance. I was doing 40 in a 30mph zone and I was flashed twice by a camera. I then saw a star appear in the top left hand corner of the screen, like the ones you get in GTA when you do something minor. I lost the star, but then I picked it back up again because I was spotted by a Police car. I then remember crashing and flying through the air.

Next thing I know I'm in a prison hall with Thom Yorke, Guy Garvey, Morrissey, Jeremy Paxman and a lot of other people. We are all walking around singing 'How to disappear completely' by Radiohead. Then I am sat on a shelf, listening to Jeremy Paxman sing a Smiths song. He was reading it out of a book named 'The Poems of Jeremy Paxman'. I remember thinking 'Hey! That's a Smiths song! You plagarist!' I can't remember which song it was though. I just remember people giggling and him saying back at them 'Oh shut up!' in his irritated interviewing tone. Then someone bulldozed down a wall and I saw a friend with their Alsatian dog (even though they don't have an Alsatian dog) shouting 'We're free! We're free!' Then I woke up.

Balanced Diet of Worms.

Today I ate a bowl of coco pops, fish & chips, 3 out of date scotch eggs and 3 strawberry frubes.

But now I'm eating creamy crumbly Wensleydale.

I had my Falmouth interview. Not too sure how it went. I was hoping we would be talking about our portfolio but we didn't. Which sucked a bit. My stomach was like a knot throughout the whole thing. I didn't eat anything from 10-5 which is some kind of a record for me. I only slept 4 hours the night before which made me highly irritable when waiting for my name to be called. They gave us a project whilst we were there where we had to put a selection of objects together using string & tape. Mine consisted of a pot and a barbie doll tied up with string and strapped to the pot. Freud would have had a field day.

Going to settle down to Brideshead Revisited now. Tomorrow it will be hard to get up. Nonetheless I must drag my carcass out of bed. It's Thursday, the holidays have officially started.

Lovely day.

Drove to Truro to pick up artwork from college. All went well. I then drove into the city centre. Ate a sandwich in the park. Then I had a particularly nice tasting (although lukewarm) coffee in Waterstones whilst reading Brideshead Revisited. There was a french couple sat behind me twittering on in their native tongue and another two people, strangers at first, flirting in front of me.

I've been thinking...

What are smithereens? And how do you blow someone to them?

What a lovely few days of snow. It's such a shame I was overloaded with coursework and could only enjoy an hour of it one evening. I felt like Scrooge. Staying in whilst my friends went outside to make snowmen. Bah, humbug! Pirate FM played a feature called "10 Best Snow Songs". Ergh. Pirate FM = Squeezy Cheese.

I was rather silly and I left myself a little too much to do days before the hand in date (Wednesday) so the night before I worked instead of going to bed. In the morning the college bus was uncharacteristically on time and therefore I missed it by what must have been 30 seconds - despite having been up since the day before. My mother kindly gave me a lift to Truro so I could hand in my project in. On the way up I decided that I'd come straight home and go to bed because I was feeling rather ill. I got to college and took my project to the art room where Tristan casually mentioned that there was an extension because of the snow. Despite my evil conscience flipping out in my head, effing and blinding, I managed to keep my cool. I walked back to the car, went home and went straight to bed.

However I did have a moment at college that day where I thought I was going to be mugged. I was walking back to the car with what must have been a mixture of puzzlement, disillusion, angst and frustration on my face when I sauntered past the 88 bus stop. At the bus stop was a person who looked like he could only have been taking a qualification in yobbery. He looked in my eyes as I approached and I just knew he was going to say something. He grunted "That coat looks cosy." For a moment I was convince the next words to come out of his mouth were going to be "I want it."

Now if he did ask for it there was no way I was going to part with my grandfathers sheepskin coat without using every ounce of my strength to keep it on my body. So after he told me that it looked cosy I smiled at him politely, said "Thank you. It is." and went on my way. Then when my back was turned he threw a snowball at me! The bastard! Thank God it missed. It made a very loud ringing 'pang' when it hit one of the walkway pillars. Twat. Twat. Twat.

Winter mornings photographs

Being at college in the winter has gotten me up early enough to catch some colourful morning skies.

ppppphhhhfffffffgggggggghhhhhhhhhhh

Is probably the best sound to sum up my weekends of late. Nothing is happening. I sit at home thinking "I could do some work, but hang on, here is a link to a video I haven't seen on youtube!" I need to put some petrol in my car and convince my friends that we should have picnics in areas of Cornwall we have never before set foot.

I could befriend a heroin addict, that would make my life interesting. Maybe I should join a cult, then I would have reason not talk to certain people anymore, then after a particularly bad incident think "What have I become?!" and then subsequently de-convert myself triggering a renewed sense of purpose and will. A chance to look at life in a new light. Or perhaps I could pretend I have been abducted by aliens. What is the difference between pretending and lying? I guess in that context there is no difference. I signed up to emails from an enthusiastic church a few years ago (the kind of church that to me now looks rather cult-ish) and it sent me emails on how the 'spirit is moving' in certain parts of the world. One day they sent me an email saying that one of their leaders who had been telling everyone he was terminally ill with cancer didn't actually have cancer and that he had decieved everyone including his family. It then went on to imply that instead of his body being sick it was just his mind that was sick and therefore he 'needs our prayers'.

I just did a quick google of his name and found out that he once performed a song in church with an oxygen tube in his nose and since he admitted he was lying he has also come forward with the confession that he has been addicted to porn since he was 12. Get well soon!

I'm listening to Elbow with the BBC concert orchestra at the moment and it is fantastic. Here is the link if you like them: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio2/event/elbow/

The idea of picnics and exploring Cornwall has got me rather excited. Roll on 'Summer 09'!

I had such a bizarre dream last night...

I was sat in Art history and the lecturer was leading the whole class in singing 'Hallelujah'. Everyone was singing it heartily, having a good time looking around and smiling. It was like something out of a Coca Cola advert. The ones that make you forget about all the ethical issues that they haven't really smoothed out yet and make you remember all the happy childhood memories you have of drinking Coca Cola outside in the garden on a summers day, feeling the bubbles fizz in your mouth, quenching your thirst and tasting that unique sweet caramelised flavour.

In the dream we sang the Leonard Cohen version. I think overall I prefer Jeff Buckley's, but I do like Leonard's. I don't like Alexandra Burke's version (Have I got all these apostrophes right?). I'm sure she's a really nice person, and she does have an incredible talent, but what she stands for, the whole commercialisation of the music industry is slowly bludgeoning to death all creativity and individuality wrapped up in it.

I was just on the Wikipedia page for Fox News and a delightful wikipedia user had cleverly replaced the word 'Fox' with the word 'Faux' all throughout the page. Well done Sir or Madam.

I want to do a poo in Pauls bathroom!

I hate that advert so much. I would like to see the minutes from the publicity & advertising meeting where that idea was brought forward. "Dave suggests idea of child wanting to do a poo at his friends house because it smells nicer due to our product being available to use in the bathroom. The idea was met with enthusiasm from other team members."

I've noticed a few times that when fairly light hearted topical programs such as BBC breakfast or GMTV talk about Barrack Obama's appointment they always throw in the "you might have heard about this story" joke. It gets incredibly annoying and repetitive. It wouldn't be half as annoying if they didn't have a look on their face afterwards that reads "I am a genius." It would be much funnier to have a much more serious topic addressed with this kind of light hearted sarcasm on the 10 o'clock News rather than breakfast TV.

When you watch a news program next presented by two presenters (It's always a man and a woman. Although ITV Westcountry News was once presented by two men and it was easily the most unbearably tense thing I have ever seen) watch the presenter who isn't speaking. I can't put into words why I am urging you to do this, but just do it. I find it hilarious for reasons unknown to even me.

Continuing on the subject of News programs I am fed up of local news. Or rather the lack of local news. Spotlight seems to be filled with trivial headlines about badgers, old people and Japanese knot-weed. Occasionally you have the odd murder (which always seems to happen in St Ives) or a particularly nasty car accident but largely the local news is about issues that only a handful of people care about. Usually one of these people interviewed has a thick Camborne accent and throws in the phrase "It's absolutely disgraceful. I've lived here all my life and never seen nothin' like it."

There is a certain breed of people

who sit under stairwells at college. Either they are too afraid to come out, or they know that their extremely pale dead looking skin will blister in natural light. Nevertheless they sit there, apparently doing nothing. The most frustrating thing is that when you enter the stairwell they fall deadly silent, and your footsteps seem to bang and echo around the concrete chamber. Then whilst you are ascending the stairs, one of them starts laughing. I think "Are they laughing at me? Why? I haven't done or said anything amusing. I haven't tripped thus far. I'm pretty sure I don't have a face like the elephant man." The only explanation can be that they find the idea of someone actually attending class amusing. One day I'd like to just walk into there holding an AK47 at hip height and just rip them into scarlet shreds. Then I could go into Lynher and do the same in there. Desicrate their pampered chest muscles. I'd only kill anyone with straightened hair and skinny jeans in Kenwyn. Then onto Helford where I think all students who think it's acceptable to bring an acoustic guitar to college to play on the grass will have to taste lead. At which point the building would probably be surrounded and I'd go into the main entrance, underneath the occulus and shoot myself in true rampage fashion.

So if I do suddenly snap one day then you know where not to be and what not to wear. Then when you survive you get to be on TV saying "He just seemed like your normal average guy."

This violent blog post is completely the fault of gory movies and games like GTA IV.

All I need

All I need is for this to be over. This horrible system of going to sleep, knowing that I will wake up to a day where it feels wasted. A day where words will be inane, laughs futile and effort pointless. I want to live a life where dialogue comes straight from a black and white classic, every action is the result of a powerful emotion and living life is about expression. I want to live in a world where people are thoughtful and not so ignorant.

I want to believe that after the exams this feeling of pointlessness will expire. Currently I feel like all I'm going to college for is to prove that I know what I know. Perhaps it's this whole revision climate but it still kills me. I tell myself "Come February this feeling will all be over" but I said that about Christmas. I'm terrified that this excuse will keep rewording itself in my head to suit the current crisis for a long time.

Mum and Amy watched The Horse Whisperer today and even though I lovingly mocked them for crying all the way through it, I felt like I wanted to cry. I wanted to drain my body of all the negative thoughts, all the depressed moods, all the harrowing realisations of late that have tangled my mind into a web of guilt and shame. But nothing happened. I've been wanting to cry for a few days now and I can't wait until I can because it kindly reassures me that I am human, I'm not insane and I can't take everything. I want to know that I'm not numb.

How to make a Turin Shroud

You will need:

1 large piece of cloth, roughly 2 millennia old
1 large piece of paper the same size as the cloth
1 pot of black ink
1 pot of bleach
A set of brushes

1. Cover the piece of paper with black ink, use a larger brush for a quicker covering.

2. Leave to dry.

3. When ink has dried completely, paint the negative image of the full body of your chosen person, whether this be Jesus, Stalin, David Milliband or yourself, into the ink using bleach. Make sure you have lots of bleach on the brush when you do this so that it doesn't dry out quickly on the paper.

4. Lay the large piece of cloth onto the paper. Make sure there are no creases and make sure all areas of the cloth come into contact with the paper so that all liquid outstanding on the paper is absorbed by the cloth.

5. Remove from paper and hang to dry.

6. Greatly publicise new found reliquary discovered when 'digging up your back garden'. Any publicity is good publicity, so buy a dog and say that it had cataracts until you found the shroud and overnight they miraculously disappeared. Convert one room (preferably one with 2 doors) of your house/flat into a shrine to the shroud with many candles, gold decorations and low light. Set up a one way system in your house/flat. Charge on the door for people to filter through and see it.

college college college college BOOM *blows brains out*

Being away from college, being with friends, friends who now have left college and moved on with their lives has made this festive period rather special. I've learnt to appreciate friendships more. I am already looking forward to Easter period where, once again, the boys are back in town.

In the meantime I shall stroll the corridors of Mylor, Tresillian and Kenwyn feeling like the ugly orphan who never gets picked, who sees friends come and then go and dreams of one day meeting and then being picked by the perfect family.

I think that metaphor was one of those which would have killed a conversation. As Bill Hicks says... "Whadd'ya say we lighten things up and talk about abortion?"

But seriously, on a less than serious note...

Earlier I opened the fridge for one of the 16839205002 beers I had bought for a new years eve gathering and a fruit pie slid out. I don't know why because in all my years I don't recall once a time where mother has bought a pie. In an attempt to save it I rapidly stuck a hand underneath it but unfortunately for me the pie had been placed upside down in the fridge (goodness knows why) and so I had a lot of tasty raspberry jam on my sticky hand.

Nighty night folks.

Just a carcass on a canvas.

I finished my self portrait today. It took so long and I couldn't get it right. I'm still not entirely happy with it. On second thoughts perhaps it's not finished, but I had been doing painting with no breaks for 4 hours. The eyes were the hardest part, it still looks like I am dead, or soulless. Just a carcass on a canvas. Do I have a soul in real life? Who knows. Maybe I have soul, but I don't have a soul. The subject of painting is relatively dead though.

I got acrylic paint in my burns also. A tad unfortunate.

The knee is slightly better today, however it still pains to walk normally. I have developed a horrible limp which makes me looks like I suffered shrapnel wounds on the frontline one winter in 1916.

The Fall of Man, 2009.

My new years resolutions have already done me more harm than good. I went for a run today & as I approached my normal stopping point I thought to myself "No! Your normal distance will not suffice!"

So I pushed myself, and pushed, I was nearing my new target where I certainly would have stopped and I saw a chain across my path. My usual self would have ran around it, but I remembered my resolutions and repeated in my head "take more risks!". At this time I had tripled my normal running distance so I was so full of it. I was pumped up and in Rocky Balboa mode. Jumping a chain about a foot and a half off the floor was no task, I could do it in my sleep.

You can probably guess from me building this up and up that it takes a horrible turn down humbling street. My leading foot, yes, my leading foot didn't even clear the chain and next thing I knew I landed on the hard cobbled street knee & elbow first. I got up feeling rather pathetic but thankful that it was about 9ish and no one was about. Then I noticed that my elbow had been cut open horribly. I had to walk a few miles back home, scaring little children out the way with my red soaked hands and blood stained t-shirt.

I did walk through a wooded area where a pony was grazing and the scent in the air was very similar to Earl Grey tea. I think it cleared the sinuses.

So I got walked home and cleaned myself up. I managed to get both shampoo & shower gel in my wounds. Then my knee swelled up and became very painful whenever I moved my leg. So we went to A&E in PZ. Waited an hour and a half to be told that there was nothing wrong with the bone. When you wait that long, part of you wants you to have smashed your knee cap into 5 pieces, so that you haven't wasted part of your life needlessly in a hospital.

Oh well. So I'm at home now. Elbow bandaged up, knee is still pretty painful. But I think I might help myself to some Baileys.

Happy 2009 xx

NYE

NYE in St Ives was great. But very cold. I did think that a little drink would help ease the cold, but I think I was under prepared. Still, it wasn't that bad for me, I had friends dressed as Spartans with naked torso's. That must have been unbearable.

I went to Orlando's after town. It was especially nice to see everyone who was there, I hadn't seen some of them in so long.

My new years resolutions are to take more risks, to try harder and to not give up as easily.

Happy New Year. xx