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