30.7.04 | Ladies And Gentlemen, It's Time
...for all the good that's in you to shine
for all the lights to lose their shade
for all the hate that's in you
Ladies and gentlemen, it's time
for the maracas and the tambourines
to play them until they break or until the day breaks
don't hide anymore, it's time to be seen
Ladies and gentlemen, it's time
for you to flash like a dancer who aims to please
time to unbutton every button of your cowardice
time to be warm in the dark, don't let the dancer freeze
Ladies and gentlemen, it's time
the bartender is looking you right in the eye
he says, "I'm gonna replace all your weak blood with my wine,
If you can't live with the truth, go ahead
- try and live with a lie"
Ladies and gentlemen, it's time
for all the good that's in you to shine
for all the lights to lose their shade
for the hate that's in you to fade
-American Music Club (2004)
I hope these lyrics give you courage.
And the strength to live, in a world that,
i suddenly find without magic.
I think this is my last post.
I don't feel like writing anymore.
(At least for now)
Glad to have met you all. (grins. waves. fades...
28.7.04 | The Saturnyne Finds His Feminine Side
Or it could be a cunning excuse to ogle pictures of scantily clad women... naaah! I'm a sensitive, New Age kinda guy who just likes to be Yin with his Yang. Now, yer must excuse me, i've just seen a quiz i need to do concerning which nekkid actress/model/songstress with name beginning with "K" i could be... for scientific purposes obviously...
You are a goddess!
Which Ultimate Beautiful Woman are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
I'm a goddess. I knew it! Bow before me y'all!
27.7.04 | We Are All God's Children...
...Whether He likes it or not.
On a whim, i've decided to invoke the time honoured tradition of Bloggers the world over.
A pointless, yet utterly thrilling quiz. So thrilling that you will never want to take that viagra again. Nor indulge in wild fantasies involving badgers and mashed potato. And crack will quickly become your second drug of choice next to the marvel of this quiz. And while we're at it, would you like to buy some encyclopaedias and double glazing?
This one i nicked from Tams quiz website. It was the first quiz i ever participated in as a blogger. Thanks Tam.
Michael. You're most like the ArchAngel of
Defense. You like to hit things, and you like
naked people, preferably cute naked people. A
real down-to-earth angel who likes frogs and is
easily distracted by bright, shiny things.
Which ArchAngel are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yup, that probably sums me up.
PS: I lied about the quiz. You will always have fantasies involving badgers and mashed potato... and probably dancing otters, too. Snaffling their whiskers in time to an arcane and earthy ritualistic drumbeat. Go you Otters!
PPS: i was feeling smug today, when i noticed that i'd had 285 "profile views", despite very little effort on my part... the smugness was quickly dispelled when Pumpkin pointed out that they were probably all me being narcissistic again.
PPPS: Bah! What does she know? (Quite a lot actually)(Yes i had to say that last bit cos she's standing right behind me). It's obviously my handsome B+W pic looking all godlike and mysterious, that and people trying to figure out what kind of person lists "Digestive Systems" as one of their key interests... =]
26.7.04 | The Gift
A couple of years ago ago, i was walking in the woodland near my home. 'twas an early morning in Midsummer, some days afore Solstice. I was trying to find things to shoot with my camera in the cool dawn light.
I wasn't having much luck, it was either too cloudy, ruining any shadows i might use for texture and mystery (not overcast mind, just the kinds of cloud that want to creep up on the sun and hide it just when you don't want, then run away laughing cloudily when you've got impatient and moved on). Or too windy, and i couldn't get any plant close-up's due to 'em not keeping still. Plus... AND... i just couldn't find a subject to my liking.
So i sat for a while on the edge of a nice little copse, looking down into the valley and river below. Cursing my ill-fortune to the wind in the grass, and the sky above.
"Just one photo! Just a tiny bit of inspiration! Then i can go home to bed!" i wailed melodramatically. Always a drama queen, even without an audience.
Except... was there someone behind me? Was that a sound of something moving in the grasses behind me? That was a cough, surely? One of those polite coughs, to announce your presence without embarrassing someone, you know the type? Except it seemed so quiet.
I turn my head, not slowly- i hate being stalked on.
There was nobody there. Nothing.
The air suddenly seemed eerily calm. The winds had dropped off.
And then i saw it.
Right behind me, mere feet away, the Sun had finally got the upperhand with those tricky clouds and saw fit to cast a single beam through the trees, right into a patch of foxgloves, there to caress the tallest flower there in a halo of silvery white light. It was beautiful.
Inspiration Strikes! I got to work, before the wind awakened once more. Forgetting in my excitement that the hairs on the back of my neck were preparing to stand up for a good bit of adrenalin pumping. But they had their little moment later...
Y'know, until then i had never truly looked at a wild foxglove, they are just sooo common. Y'see them everywhere you go in Summer around here... i hope i've managed to capture some of it's beauty to share with you here.
Fifteen minutes later, i was prepping to leave, singing a little song cheerfully, it was probably "La la lala, La la lala, lala-laaah" or something similar.... and then i felt it again... that feeling of being watched. And did i hear some quiet chuckling? But where from?
"Hello?" (And hello neck-hairs!)
Nothing. Again. Just the breeze stirring trees and grass ever so lightly now.
Feeling genuinely disturbed, and seeing as i'd packed my kit, i decided, not without haste, to LEAVE, away up the hill. As i reached the hills crest, i turned and looked back down into the valley, and the river, and towards the ever-so-slightly creepy foxglove glade.
I could see it quite clearly from my elevation. I also saw something else. My patch of foxgloves was dead centre of a Daone Sidhe ring. A faerie ring. (Or if yer have scientific kind of mind... a fungus ring...hah!)
Could that have been...? Naah! Who believes in that kind of thing nowadays...?
And yet... it did seem that i was "directed" towards these flowers... and legend says that Faerie Gifts really shouldn't be spurned OR mocked...
So. A Gift? Perhaps. And now i share it with you...
THe Gift 2
25.7.04 | Eat My Spiky Throbbing Cactus, Bitch!
I just had to put these here... this is going in mah links ASAP
(I ruptured several vital organs, i laughed so much. Anyone got swapsies?)
(David Blunkett (The U.K.'s Home Secretary and yob) and Sadie are "The UK's cutest couple. David is the blind MP behind quips like, "You don’t need a guide dog for hindsight." And Sadie? She's his faithful mutt who stops him walking into cars. Enjoy Mushybees prickly take on politics."
(Nicked the quote from B3ta.com)
22.7.04 | Sweeties! (and Perhaps Black Holes, and Tricycles, and Paper Clips. PLUS: why Janey's PC is such a spanner)
Ahh, gentle reader. I have returned. Did you miss me? My wit, wisdom and pithy comments? The fabulous swearing and conversations with assorted fruits and vegetables?
Eh? What do ye mean?- "it's only been a few days"? But surely you must have had a few pangs of sorrow at my absence?! Well, I say! Steady on! A Saturnyne could get quite hurt by such... ambivalence.
Soo, Black Holes, eh? Saw the film. Great for scaring small children. Well done, Disney! (And BTW, Disney! You haven't yet replied to my ideas for modern reworkings of some of your classics. Surely you can see the 'Hit' potential in a rapping baby reindeer with a chainsaw? In a war-torn Vietnam? "Bambi Apocalypse" would be massive!) Although it's got me wondering, while we can't actually see the hole itself, as it absorbs everything, and not even light can escape it's dreadful hunger... can we see all the yummy matter it's gonna be noshing on, swirling into it? I presume so (Mr Carl feel free to share your wisdom on this)... and if that's true does it really swirl around the Hole like water about to go down the plug hole? and if that's true... which direction does it swirl? Because water (On our lovely little globey) swirls in opposite directions, depending on which side of the Equator you're standing... Sooo does the Universe have an Equator? And are there any funky alien ceremonies when the little green men cross over it? Like we do with ours.
I happened to be watching Stephen Hawking the other day, on the subject of Black Holes. He said: I wouldn't want to get too near to one. I might fall in..." I guess Mr Hawking won't be moonlighting on the standup circuit any time soon...
...wouldn't it be hideously amusing, if one day soon he just stood up and got out of his wheelchair, and admitted he'd been taking the piss all these years? Y'know, just having a bit of a laugh. You'd have to worship the man. You would!
Going back to Black Holes, i must admit, i was a regular little sweetie purchaser in my childhood, and seeing as that's the topic chosen for this blog by the Queen of Darkness, Janey...
I come from a working class family; father worked down the pit part of his life, mother in a village bakery, then both on the factory lines until their retirement... Godbless... and utter, utter boredom...
Anyway... we weren't well off... and sweeties and crisps were a bit of a luxury. Fortunately i had a brilliant middle-class Christian friend called Michael who believed in sharing and buying sweeties for the both of us! Yaay! (I only hope i thanked him at the time). AND i learnt a valuable religious lesson there as well: Christians = not complete wankers! Phew!
looking at the above link, i see some of the old faves are still available, like flying saucers and sherbet fountains I can almost feel my teeth melting at the mere thought of 'em.
It's a pity about the old "corner" shops that used to sell these things. THere's none of these strange, cosy little places left around here now, with their pleasant, musty smells and dark mysterious corners and jars and jars of wonders along the back walls... it was a thrill to go into them... just to gaze.
Alas then, for the past. As we welcome... the marvels of such achievements as the internet, etcetera, we have... lost also. There used to be dozens and dozens of small shops lining the roads here in Harle Syke, now we have... perhaps half a dozen... and one of them is a mini-supermarket, so i don't think that counts. But perhaps with the demise of petrol, in several days time, these things may return...
I used to have a tricycle, too, as a kid. Big red one! It was like, the Ferrari tricycle of it's day, and i was the envy of other small childs for streets around!
Sooo, that just leaves paperclips and Janey's computer problem. Right...
Paperclips: Never used them much.
Janey's pc: Doctor Saturnyne says: The most likely problem with your pc, Janey is that you probably aren't saying enough nice things to it, and petting it as it reaches old age (Which in current pc terms usually means at about six months... i wonder what that is in dog years...) You could of course reprogram it with an axe. You'll never have to worry about it working ever again after that, because of course it won't.
Of course, it may be that this is a recent problem, in which case, the problem might be me... for some reason, and i have several friends who can vouch this, computers and other electrical appliances seem to be scared of Yours Truly, and go into a panic shutdown whenever i am near... it might possibly be that yr pc is aware of me and that yr communicating with me, and feels threatened... to remedy this situation i suggest calling me "Geoff- The God of Deckchairs" or something similar to confuse it. That should do the trick.
Eg: (in loud voice) "Ooh! I think i'll just email Geoff- The God Of Deckchairs now".
WEll, that's everything. Job done. I sit back and smugly have a virtual fag now. No,not not one of those, you pervert. I wouldn't have a clue as to what to do with one of those. Make cups of tea for guests, i s'pose. Or knitting.
more later, sweethearts.
20.7.04 | The Saturnyne Discovers A Potato Analogy For His Life
here we are: Potato
Would anyone like to guess the inner meaning? If i like the answer, you can choose a subject for me to ramble on about, or ask me to post another picture, or even both. Note: THere's no limit to the number of answers i can like. Or i might just be fickle, and choose the best looking contestant. Well, it works in Miss World, doesn't it?!!
18.7.04 | Argh! What've they done to my post-editing functions!??!!
Bastards! Bastards bastards bastards! Bastard bollocky bastards!
So i go and look, and they say there's all these things to edit my posts on a toolbar. Not for me there fecking isn't!
If anyone feels like commenting on this. I will add free swear wordy sentences to this post for each comment at no extra charge... hum, i had to read that again just to see if it made even a slight bit of sense.
Basically. You comment. I swear.
UPDATE: Problem solved... but if you leave comments, i'm still gonna swear... Haven't had a good swear in ages, dammit! In fact, i insist! And for those of you who come here, and then nonchalantly and blithely fail to comment... I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! Don't make me come around and smile at you. You wouldn't like it. now then, i think it's time for my nap.
UPDATE: Any children or those of a sensitive disposition reading this should turn away now. Turn a-fucking-way!
Aaha! My first comment. (thankee to tha lovely Janey) Sooo......
And now a request for the word 'motherfucker' from indefatigable Tam.
NO. Nooo 'motherfuckers' for at least another six requests, i'm on a fucking schedule here! Although when i do get around to saying 'motherfucker', 'i'll definitely think about saying it just the way you like... oh for about 2 seconds, then i'll say it the way i like, which is: 'motherfucker' only more sleazy, like someone who's just had chocolate licked off them by two dozen virgins... or whatever your own perspective is (hmm, actually the above scenario might not do it for me. but it's a possible interesting example) then it'd be more of a drawn out 'moootherrr-fuuuckerrr.'
No. you can have.
'cause it's one of my favourites.
Aaah, here comes the resilient Amanda. Hi Amanda! You're just in time for another one of my favourite words, one i often screamed at a neighbours pet cat outside the castle. Mysteriously missing since the recent karaoke shenanigans... it is amusing to note that said cat eventually took to it's new name, when it realized that yummy fishie would be on the menu. Cats eh? Noo fucking loyalty! Still a refreshingly controversial word after many years of fond use. Ladies and gentlemen i give you. (loudly. and twice. because. Just because.)
(ahem, i think i enjoyed that one too much)
I said next! Tchah- is that it?!! Three comments? Three fecking comments!!!? I hate you all!!
(slouches off despondently to practice cow-twanging. It's sort of like cow-tipping, only you use a catapult. The idea came to me on someone else's website (See links down side)).
Scruttocks! I'm off to repeatedly hit the space-bar now, here.
No it's not a bar where the intergalactic cowboys hang out, umm, well not as i know it...
Late news! Here comes Al, to save my swearathon, who i know almost nothing about apart from his familiarity with crack-whores.
"Yeah, man, i'm like down to just two a day now, man, but it's like just such a hard barrier to break, man. Y'got any change, by the way?" We feel for you Al. Heheh!
But i also notice he lists War and Peace amongst his favourite books. A fact which i find an enormous relief, because i was beginning to think i might be the only person in the world who'd read it. Phew! (o' course if i'd listed my favourite books instead of my favourite authors AND then forgot to include mr Tolstoy, then i have only myself to blame).
Oh yeah, i almost forgot.
Wank! (A particular favourite here in the U.K. Often extended to "Wankaaah"(wanker) when yer realy wannna start insulting someone cheerily. Eg; "Who's the wankaaah in the hat!"
Well well well! Lookee here! 'tis THe Prisoner arriving like the proverbial white rabbit. bit fucking late, aren't we?! And Amanda, too!- Back for more!
Well i was getting kinda bored of it all by now, but seeing as ye've put some extra effort into it, i'll give you both two fucks, a shite, and a chutney spanner.
Chutney Spanner. (Damn!- I was saving that one for a 'special' moment.
Next! (If i can be arsed anymore. Hahah!).
14.7.04 | Conversations With My Pumpkin (pt3 "The Depths of Sophistication")
"Shiggy wiggy wiggy?!"
"Shiggy wiggy wiggy!!!"
"Bingy bongy boo".
(Readers; it is interesting to note here, that the word "Bibblybob" is available on your mobile phones when you use predictive texting. And therefore must be a real word, thus proving mine and Pumpkins conversations as far superior to the norm, due to our ability to use words, that to all intents and purposes, mean bugger all to everyone else.)
THat is Pumpkins new nickname for me. I think it's rather sweet term of endearment. Much nicer than "Wanker" or "Tosser", or "Most pathetic use of so-called intelligent life, or indeed any life on this planet, any planet in any dimension you care to name, real or thought up in your ridiculous sub-parody of a brain".
"Yes, my ball of orange loveliness?"
"Remind me again why i don't take you to the vets and have you put down, or at least have you tried in a court for mental crimes against all reasonable thought, and indeed crimes against dna itself?"
This is what Pumpkin said, although i really knew she meant;
"You really are the nicest person that evah lived! I'm so glad i met you and that yer are mah bestest friend, evah."
"Aaah, lovely fruit-type-thing, i know just what you mean. 'tis because i'm loyal, generous, utterly gorgeous, a good listener, fantastically kind to waifs and strays, plus, i can do this:
(I start singing the underwater fishie song from the Disney film "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" complete with bubbly fishie voices. It also sounds like a very pissed 'Soupdragon' from the Clangers. Pumpkin falls around laughing... this never fails to amuse her somehow.
"Ok, i'll let you live this time, Pleb-Boy".
And what better friend could you have than that, dear reader?- Than one who doesn't want to kill you every day.
Thus we pass many carefree days, pleasurably together.
| Aha! Have links! Ta-daa!
Just had time for six so far... the perceptive amongst you will notice something called Dæmonic Keystaves, which while not a blog, i have added out of my great friendship to the site's owner. He recently had his original dotcom site nicked by some oh-so-nice company 'cause it was getting a few million hits a year.
What it is: A free download site for classical sheet music. 'tis most excellent, if that's your bag. What's more he's a fabulous guitarist... who i admire most hugely... he'd beat jimi Hendrix into the ground... if he wasn't there already...hah!
In fact i just had him playing one of the more complicated guitar pieces on MSN to me. Thanks Dan.
Right. I don't intend to comment on any future links in the sidebar if i can help it. Unless there's special need. It'd get kinda boring. Just go find 'em yerselves.
Next up: More Pumpkin conversationals. (Probably) With extra helping of Pumpkin. Just for you! Oh how the gods must love you.
12.7.04 | The Saturnyne remembers something beautiful (And tries to right a grave injustice with a wave of his hand)
October 19th, 1991. I pick up my Melody Maker and begin to read, over breakfast.The famous music magazine was at the heights of it's powers in those days. It was passionate, it was funny, it had long, readable articles and interviews, written by such geniuses (to me) as Everett True, Allan Jones, Chris Roberts, The Stud Brothers and David Jennings. They didn't take prisoners. But they knew what they liked. It was my bible.
I reach the album reviews and my eyes are drawn towards this, I quote:
" "There's so little of you left," he sings, and he sounds startled; he wasn't expecting this, a friend wasting away to nothing and beyond, dying in front of him.
"There's so little of you left," he sings, and now he sounds awed; so this is what disease does to you.
"THERE'S SO LITTLE OF YOU LEFT," he screams, and he sounds angry now,and an electric guitar joins the rushing acoustic whirl,a vicious horizontal hum.
"There's so little of you left..." he sings, and he's whispering, hushed, bewildered and you can feel his own raging tears in what by the end of this heartstopping track are your own smarting eyes.
"It's Mark Eitzel of course, and American Music Club, and the song is called "The Dead Part Of You", A ghastly deathbed lament. This is the kind of territory that AMC have made virtually their own, this landscape of dread, these epitaths to the world's soiled dreams, the charred ends of dislocated live. AMC are rocks desolation angels and no one currently writing so movingly evokes such a colossal sense of bereavement, pain and madness as Eitzel."
There was more of, course, but by the end of the first para. I was no longer eating my brekkie. By the end of the second, i was peering around the room trying to locate my boots. Five mins after that, i'd caught the first bus into town, and making one of those musical purchases that forever have an influence on your life.
The album was 'Everclear' and it was every bit as good, and better than the review promised. By the end of the year, it had swept into every top ten "Best-of's" in every music publication going. Sharing that TEN, with the likes of Nirvana and Guns 'n' Roses. Eitzel's songwriting skills were compared to Dylan's and Morrisey's in Rolling Stone and many other places. Many bands and artists namechecked them
And the public ignored it. As they had the previous 3 before it, and the two to follow. They broke up, and Eitzel persevered with a solo career.
Not before i had the chance to view their last tour though. And i witnessed a performance of such profound jaw-dropping power and emotion, that i didn't sleep for days; I was buzzing from it so much. I can't think of any artist who tears themselves apart on stage, who looks so vulnerable, who lifts you to a new plateau over and over, while breaking the mood 'tween songs with self-deprecating quips and apologies with and to the audience. Is it possible to laugh and cry all at once? Yes. And i did. My sorrow and joy were one.
Everett True wrote about a Mark Eitzel performance thus:
"you know, the man can't sing. Not conventionally, not in the way scholars of the form would have it. His voice cracks when it reaches the higher notes, it breaks when it reaches down to the lower ones, there's no way he can hold a tune, half the time he sounds as if he's sobbing or crying or laughing or talking to himself... Certain words and phrases he runs with, holds onto, drags out until they're drained of all emotion. So why is it i find myself moved beyond tears by this live recording of one man and his shabby old acoustic? Why is it i find myself unable to listen past the savagely direct 'Gary's Song' or the cutting 'Outside This Bar' without wanting to break up every last bottle in this damn flat...'
So. They've reformed. They've played live (To astounding reviews) again). They have an album due out later in the year. And they're touring fully later in the year also. Here's a website to keep you informed: AMC. Do yourself, and them, a favour. Treat yerself. Go see. My band has returned. It's a beautiful world.
11.7.04 | And The New Black. Is Black. (An Analogy for the Emperors New Clothes).
I was bored with the old look, although i liked the txt more (It seemed prettier for a start)... i'll probably change it back again, when i get bored of this one, too... Personally i think the wonderful Tam's new look is something to aspire to... Even if she's not quite finished it yet.
There's a lot i want to say today, but just haven't got the energy. Sorry gentle reader. I've just sunk into a particularly low ebb.
normal services will resume... umm, soon-ish.
Instead, here's a poem by my favourite poet:Philip Larkin
Not apologizing if it spoils yer day. You can not click the link... You have that choice...
We are... borne through life by the choices we make. Some people... are blessed... with luck and good judgement. The rest of us merely find... that the people we become... are the people we wanted to be, and are... disappointed. Others find they are a long way from the people they wished themselves, yet some are content.
And at the end, the final exhale of breath, on turning to view the highways and byways, the decisions at crossroads, the perils and the joys of our journey, we find ourselves surprised that there is but one road from death to birth. And back again.
Night-night, gentle reader. See you in the morning.
10.7.04 | How Odd...
...My profile and utterly handsome piccie have emmigrated to the bottom of the page.
"Oi!- Piccie! Get yer arse back up here now!
Umm, anyone know how to repair blogs? Anyone good at disciplining errant piccies?
Big snog for the first reply!
Small peck on the cheek if you come second...erm, or happen to be male.
Third place gets a flirty glance
The Wooden Spoon prize gets me singing my rendition of The Cure's "Boys Don't Cry". On helium
| Tree. Treee!!!! Tree. Treee-eee...
Readers of Martin Scott's 'Thraxas' ironic fantasy novels, may well have come across the phrase "I'm as happy as an elf in a tree".
This is my tree. My Yggdrassil. This is rather a test with some of my photo work, and i'm afraid the quality of this blog image isn't of sufficient standard for me to smile too much about... mebbe i can do some more editing and see if i can improve it. Having said that, my ideal quality to show off would be about 100+ meg... larger than some of those porn films you like to download from Ka-zaa, eh, boys?
but fuck it! I don't give a damn. I like my tree.
PS. THank god for digital darkrooms.
9.7.04 | And Now: A completely irrelevant post about nothing
there you go.
(Although i'm damn sure this is gonna get edited at some point in the future. yes indeedy!)
hmm, i think this post is wot caused my profile to bugger off dahn to the bottom... mebbe if i put spaces between the headline words instead... i don't think it liked that "no space" stuff...
...it won't work, of course... still y'never know...
(Note to self: learn this newfangled coding malarkey)
(Other note to self: Why oh why are you typing this out at 5am-ish in the morning? You'll regret it later. Pumpkin will tut if this post gets discovered. tThen you'll be sorry. Oyes.
8.7.04 | The Saturnyne Discovers A New Ability (Or Re-discovers An Old One)
There you are. Sitting quietly in your castle.
(Interesting note Une: BTW to all foreign readers of this site, all us English live in castles. It's why England is such a fantastic place to dwell in. My own castle is quite modest... just the one moat... er' where was i? O'yeah).
So yer minding yer own business... mebbe havin' a quiet drink... or mebbe not if the neighbouring castles are having a scrumptious karaoke session.
(Interesting note Deux: The neighbourhood is now entirely bereft of cats. I know this because i was awakened the other night to the sound of all these lovely felines dragging suitcases up the backstreet complaining about the competition).
Anyway, to get back to the matter at hand. Yr cosy and chillin'. When there comes a loud persistent knocking at the door. Who is it, you wonder? Why it's a handy-dandy salesman come to inveigle his way into your house all ready with his contract for your eternal soul. What to do?
(Interesting note Trois: By salesman i also include those of a religious persuasion looking for converts, too. Now i always have a lot of time for discussions of a religious nature. A fact which may surprise some friends. I have to say all religious persons are as welcome in my house as anybody without a meat cleaver and chuckling cheerily... hmm, it's strange, but they never stay as long as i'd like... And paperboys looking for tips.. i always laughingly tell them foreplay is really important).
Well, i, Saturnyne have discovered the solution to the Unwanted guest. Quite by chance.
Y'see, as i am something of an insomniac these days, i often awake aftera miserable nights sleep with utterly groggy eyes... so i like to bathe them. So the other day i'm bathing my eyes, and there comes a knock at the door. Of course, being the polite one that i am, i answer the door...
Cool! it looks like Jehovah's Witnesses!
I open the door and smile at them in a friendly way. They look into my eyes, with what i assume is religious fervour.
"Hi guyyysss! How are you? Y'wanna sell me some of that G- What?What's the matter? Why, you look quite pale! Hey- Where are you going? Come back! I have nice biscuitssss! Oh dear... well maybe they remembered they left the gas on or something..."
It was then i realised that i was carrying the dish of (Nice warm) water that my eyes were still merrily swimming around in.
I convulsed with laughter droppng the dish in the process. My eyes bounced and swung madly around on their stalks like crazed bungee jumpers. Whooo! Blameh!-That can really make you dizzy.
I was so relieved. I thought they'd run screaming frenziedly away because i was naked.
| The Saturnyne Finds An Analogy For His Relationship With Mr. God
I've been playing this disgustingly addictive PC game these past few weeks. Some funky tactical arse (Yeah, i'm very good at tactical arse.) involving
politely declaring alliances in the medieval world before invading everyone and slaughtering everything in sight. Of course i chose to be the oh-so sophisticated English. Mainly because I get to mainly slaughter the French again, and again. And again. (Always good for a laugh, if yer English)and then have a nice cup of tea and biscuits afterwards amidst the corpses and loot.
It is of course the English thing to do, to Invade, then leave the invaded country in a delightful wreck, then come back and do it all over again when the natives have managed to recover. Iraq, in present day, is a very fine example of this, i'm sure you'll all agree. I'm also sorry to say that this disease seems to have been passed onto the Americans (Or rather the one's in power, who are essentially English offspring).
Anyway, going back to the game...It seems indicative of my relationship with God that the (game)Pope excommunicated me. Twice. Ok, maybe it didn't help that i invaded France. And Germany. And Spain. And Poland. And Switzerland (That'll teach 'em to be neutral! Hahahah!)Oh and Denmark, but only a little bit. But well, i ask you.... i rather think the Vatican was over-reacting... these religious types have no sense of humour, y'know.
It seems kinda appropriate to place this little quiz here. I was saving it for a rainy day. And of course this being England...
Thanks and big mwahs to Janey for this one:
Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?
Take More of Robert & Tim's Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim's Cartoons
6.7.04 | The Saturnyne does it in Chinese. Ah, how?! (He's a groovy guy)
繁體中文。今天在我的譯者幫助下, 我刺殺其它語言。我的舌頭是更好更多崗位隨後而來, 在今後幾天當我感覺疲倦。我是偉大的在床! 仍然。
(Smiles in the kind of calculated fun way that guarantees people walk across the street to avoid).
Gahh! I need sleep. Lots of nice lovely sleep. I not well. I can feel myself decomposing.
I really need to get a regular links column up on this blog soon...
4.7.04 | Mmrph-rph! Rph-hmm Aa Grphhr Gghaah thaaangg ihh Mmhaa-aaghhss.
(Translates: Hello! Today i've got my tongue in bandages).
2.7.04 | Head...
The day gets off to a bad start, when i'm eating cornflakes for my breakfast. Myyomm-nyommm-nyomchomp-crackkk!
Wow!- That's a very hard piece of cornflake!
Gingerly i send my tongue out on a search party, to probe for any survivors.
My tongue returns to inform me, in a somewhat bloodied (Yet touchingly heroic) state, that there's suddenly a very sharp object in my mouth.
And there seems to be pain.
(God!- Not pain! Not painnnn. not "toooth painnnn". I just want to have a happy untroubled life, being at one with nature, the birds and beasts eating untroubled from my hand. The other will probably be alternating between holding a bottle of nice red wine... or white mixed with creme de cassis so it doesn't taste shit.... and a good book... probably written by James Branch Cabell or the hillarious Steve Aylett. The odd butterfly, landing on my shoulder... ahhh... bliss... singing little songs... lalala la la, la-la... oh well... back to the real world...)
Fearing the worst, i reach for the mirror, which i always keep to hand, just to remind how very beautiful i am... oh all right i trudge to the bathroom like everyone else probably does.
It's not pretty. My rear molar has cracked. A large piece of the enamel coating has somehow broken right off... revealing the softer stuff beneath it. Also leaving the remaining enamel with a viciously razor sharp edge... which my tongue keeps playing chicken with.
OUchy! Not Toothy pain AND tonguey pain!
Melodramatically i go into shock. This will ruin my stunning good looks and charming smile forever.
For the rest!
Of my life!
And i loove kissing! I'd snog a badger if it looked at me so much as coquettishly!
All that yummy, sexy saliva will be lost now.
Like tears in the rain.
(Sorry for the Blade Runner parody there. Couldn't resist).
How will i explain to all the beautiful mademoiselles... that i am... maimed? Mebbe forever?
Oops! Got a little bit carried away there. Ok. NOW we're back in the real world.
Ring dentist. Actually, that should be: Ring pathetic excuse for a dentist.
I have to wait until Monday.
I might be dead by then!
(I should point out here to any women/ladies/femmes/other-nouns who have been kind enough to read this blog, that men are contractually obliged to become whimpering jelly-type-things at even the slightest contact with pain. Even imagined pain. It's probably something to do with never having to endure the cosy pleasures of childbirth. I dunno).
AND this stress has now given moi a migraine! poor pathetic creature that i am. Hence the title of this blog, and the all-consuming pain i must endure to bring you my wisdom. (Stop laughing, back there!)
Right, well i'm off to write my will. Love to you all. Perhaps we can meet again in happier times. *sob* (Waves hankie tearfully)
Just joking. I'll be right back with more of my iconoclastic views later.
("Did he just say 'Iconoclastic', then"?
"I thinks so, yeah"
"Strange... d'you think he knows what it means"?
1.7.04 | Yup, the last post i completely deleted; sorry you missed it : |
Well it wasn't going anywhere on the first bit... Just a "hey there" to a friend who said he kept reading this blog. Lol, some people really are masochists...
And the first comment was rather rude and ungracious, despite having a little merit here and there. (THank-YOU DLW).
And while i thought my reply was good, it was a reply, and woulda looked odd on it's own. Mebbe it needs it's own post.
So DLW. I've decided this. If yer wanna pass criticism, or even any kind of comment on my blog; Then please do it when ye've got yer own and a profile to go with it. You could even call it the "Anti-Saturnyne Page" if you must. Anything...
Until then, regretfully, i shall delete any future posts you make in your anonymous way, as i feel it's not in keeping with the spirit of the Lounge. If i wanted anonymous comments, i really would've set it up for that.
I really hope i never find out who you are...
I hate having to speak like this...