Category Archives: Uncategorised

is b a c k.

As is Rorschach.

Tript has another new blog.

Li has been on a posting binge of unprecedented proportions.

And the artist formerly known as Operative Hawthorne is still Neuroscooping us all.

Who said the Cam community had become a foetid cesspool?

If you think you might be eligible for one, mail me your meatworld address, and I will decide if you are good enough.

The IGA down the road just started stocking those whipped cream soda bulbs with NO in them, and there’s something about it which really pulls everything into focus.

That glorious trembling-on-the-edge-of-the-abyss moment when you suddenly Understand. Y’know? You understand everything. And it’s so beautiful. And then you fall..

Ahh..

..dies..

And then you wake up.

And there’s all these people swirling around.. my Mum.. baby sis (the original Toots).. everyone I’ve ever had sex with is in there. Mite & Firedrake are in there.. Lady J.. the accursed Mr Henley.

So many people, swirling around. Are any of them even real? Or am I just imagining them? Is there a difference? What a ridiculous question. But beautifully so.

But it isn’t the afterglow.. it’s the moment.. that moment when you see through infinite worlds and you swoon and bite your lip and it’s a beautiful gesture and it’s perfect and.. ahh.. the beautiful language-crucifying perfection of it all. And simultaneously there’s this ahh.. and you feel pain and taste blood and the ahh is actually nasty grinding ouch. And the beautiful flaw that makes the whole cosmic punchline so perfect is actually, you know, quite a serious problem (of course – how could it be otherwise?) and it’s gonna be a lot of work.. and back in the meatshow you’ve just gouged a great big chunk out of your lip and it hurts.

But you gotta laugh, incha.

Without the sour, baby etc

Yes, it is!

I just have received two pieces of spam from bots operating under the names “Episcopacy J. Belgrade” and “Culverts Q. Colicky”.

Spam is not at all a strange phenomenon in itself – but why is so much spam so strange?

But none of it is critically urgent, and I’m really tempted to go for another epic snooze. The last one was so good. Would that be indulging my avoidant personality disorder? I really do feel like I need another sleep..

I hate to sleep; it feels so self-indulgent. I don’t have the time for it right now. But it’s a good thing to do occasionally. It’s highly beneficial to one’s health and wellbeing. If I slept now, I would be able to get much more done when I woke up than I would get done now if I stayed awake.

Fuck it; I’m hittin’ the hay.

I slept until I couldnae sleep any more.

I can’t remember the last time I did that.

It was great.

My sis once asked me if I believed in the past.

(We were, naturally, extremely stoned as was the style at the time.)

I thought about it for a bit and said “no”, because of course the past does not Really Exist. Have you ever been there? No. It is a mental construct. It’s something you think about. It is not Real.

“Do you believe in the future?”

And again I replied “no”, on the same basis.

She smiled.

“There’s no time…” she said, exhaling gently and significantly. “Like the present.”

And in that moment the very fabric of reality split open and fell clean away, for I could clearly see that she was perfectly correct.

And I did.

Best present ever.

Zooey the Tam died last night, aged 10. But not before going through the same weird birth-giving process described by Desci here.

So now I have a second generation boy Tam called Boda. He shits like a trouper.

I’ve been rushing around like a mad thing today, then I get in and everything’s gone all crazy-like in virtualworld with the commenting (yay commenting) and the Reanimator getting a funny email and.. other things.

Then I went out to walk the dog and do some shopping.. and locked myself out! And I couldn’t get on to my sister’s friend who has the spare key! And I had to wait outside for 90 minutes in the cold for the locksmith with only random text-messagery to amuse me!

And it’s ten o’clock and I haven’t eaten anything and there’s too much to do! Too much to do! It’s the 29th on Wednesday! Why isn’t anyone more concerned?

Did anyone see what happened to this month? As it went swoooshing by? I think I missed it.

And I still haven’t written to Nada. Or Def. And I DON’T have TIME to be posting this! I must eat food or I shall collapse. Fuck, and I was going to do a load of washing tonight ‘n’all.

*deep breaths*

It’s okay, it’s okay.

I take reasonably good care of myself. I exercise most days. I eat pretty well. I sleep eight hours most nights. I don’t regularly drink very much, or indulge in any other seriously health-compromising behaviours, with the sole exception of smoking about sixty gazillion cigarettes a day.

So WHY, for the last five months or so, have I woken up, every single morning, feeling like someone has kicked me in the fucking head?

Xade will call me a whiner. I don’t care. I’ve really had enough of it.

Five. Or possibly six (outcome/ultimate significance pending).

How I am feeling: shitty.

Still.. the overall trajectory remains an upward one.

Life is life.

*shrugs*

I need to change my various ‘new mail’ noises. It’s all gotten waay too pavlovian for my liking.

Thanks for stopping by, gentle reader. Particular greetings go out to those who know me in, as they say, real life. You guys should comment more often. Hi Ben! Will write soon. Hi toots.

And finally: hello Ludmila, if you’re gracing us. Way to do my fucking head in. You are ace.

I bid you all a fond goodnight.

So I can continue to post exciting and dynamic photos like this:

New bowl in action (as requested)

(NB: Please don’t ask what happened to my thumb.)

Note to self: buy bananas