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Everything you ever wanted to know about crisps, but were too fat to ask. Strap 25 I can’t be arsed writing a strap. What follows is a boring story about… crisp! Yay! woo woo! body 500 Two small babies. Eight bags of sugar. That’s how much you, Joe Public, eat in crisps per year; a…
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Crisps. Strap 25 body 500 Two small babies. Eight bags of sugar. That’s how much you, Joe Public, eat in crisps per year; a german eats twice that. A man in Texas once ate ten times that. And the list of delicious deep-fried statistics goes on. But one thing is for certain; we don’t know…
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Bought poetry today. Last night speaking plain (primogenitor: red wine) caused me problems (Sorry Mr Gillen!) so, upon remembering a desire for Auden and Eliot, I thought softening the betoothed tongue with dulcet vocab a “good thing.” Went out and wasted money (what am I to spend it on – candles, wine and books?) on…
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Two types of twitching a welcomed this eve: the first is a memory of yesterday, of looking out across a club floor, where a potato band were playing, with recognisable naíf faces you could read every day of faked history from, and seeing that floor full of the spasmodically twitching heads of people who didn’t…
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]On the subject of old bloody bloom, so steeped in’t that to go on is easier than to go back, my sanguinne obsession has taken up apace. Apart from using White Blood Cells as a metaphor for death (skullish colour, consuming phagocytes, etc.) in my copy, I also started the day with a bloody mary,…
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Apparently I’m a writer now, speciality subject staves. What do I think of that? I don’t know. I’m happy sure, in that it feels like progress (even if it is only the next desk) but at the moment I could just collapse. I think its lack of air or light, and the continuance of my…
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O. Watched the ring last night. Curse my febrile imagination (why is nothing else ever febrile, why are dawns always rosy-fingered, why are statesmen always overweight, and why is this line of questioning so familiar? So easy to adhere to the common language, the regular expressions that must go together – Proust had it, doing…
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[Morning after Christmas party] Mmm… funny how the bits of blood you pick out of your nose after a night’s drinking look just like the bacon bits from Pizza Hut… I’m sincerely hoping that isn’t just me. Also strange chipping your teeth (think it was on a bottle or something) and then finding yourself cutting…
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T.I.M. That’s what I call the architect of me downfall. Tim. Not as in my stepdad, though you can read something freudian into that if you want; you have a right to your opinion and I have a right to use your teeth as toecaps. No I mean Total Intestinal Maelstrom. These last two days…