Paragraphs

There was a murmur from below as the crouching, saucer eyed man reached out, then paled into obscurity...
The girl's eyes crept half open. The dull cast of summer rain, looming behind closed curtains flooded her senses for a brief moment, before she closed her eyes tight again. The clock on the coffee machine ticked over to 6:02am. For a second the girl became partially animate, as she stretched out on the double bed making a barely audible squeal, but as soon as the magic was there, it was gone. The sound of the pillow moving close to her ear, mixed with the distant muted drone of the rain, and the gutters overspilling from the roof outside, sent her back from where she came.

She arrived in a blur back into a dream, standing outside the entrance to a dilapidated block of flats. Two glass automatic doors which had lost their function led into a small porch, which in turn led into a large, predominantly featureless room. The only thing that could have been deemed notable was the black and white tiled floor, most of whose tiles had been cracked or smashed by thin roots which had started to spread sporadically over the surface. The girl pressed the sides of her hands up to the glass door and peered in. The glass was quite hot to touch, as if warmed by the sun, and was also very dirty. Some green, powdery residue stuck to her skin but she didn't seem to mind, her eyes just continued to dart around the interior of the building.

She noticed a strange smell in the air, like gasoline, white spirit, and rusted metal. She couldn't quite place it, but a sense of unerring nostalgia welled within her. Suddenly, the entire pane of glass which she was leaning against came loose and fell forward, and so did she.

Images #1

oki so i got the bug, the big bad bugger thats what i call it, i dont really but i just thought that, shit here is the one thing that doesnt make sense i cant even hear myself think today, yeah i can but i thought that why did i think that, i dont even know, thats just weird isnt it, heaha someone just walked in the door its my dad , i cant see him, but i an hear him he is downstairs, faster and faster typing, getting it all out, like tipping rubbish away, after all, this is all rubbish, no substance to this whatsoever, i always got put off by that, something having substance, why cant it be, OH BIG PAUSE, got distracted there, i just clicked onto the facebook tab, to see what was going on, it was Roya sending me a mesaage on the chat thingy, i cant wait until i can actually (like the gomme of clashing grabs) snatch away the sounds straight away, and then reformat them into music, arrangements if you will, is it music, or an arrangement, a bit of both i think, its an arrangement of music, this will heal you in some way, just getting things out, products of what is actually happening, speedy deliveries, are the key to success, speedy and well thought out, thats part of the challenge, the only problem i think is that i might end up with a repetitive strain injury, hm. i think im gonna make this another long one, maybe longer than the first bastard, although that one worked quite well, it could be better, something more or less intelligible, something which makes the use of my 10 digits, rather than just the 9, i find it stange how i type, right ring finger always reaches for the backspace, pinky to the enter key, combination of thumbs for the space bar, usually the right one, left ring always rests on the a, but travels to s d w z x and q pretty easy, middle finger on the e, index on the f whats all this about its a good set up these qwerty keyboards, qwerty is an annoying word to type though.
wel this probably is my least interesting entry on here, maybe its not maybe its the most interesting, maybe i cant even think about what im typing anymore, cos its just flowing straight out, flow flow, flow, flow, still flowing, stiilll flowing, ah thats better, until it weeps the sordid fracture of calamity, pestilence raining down upon ye, where i might, forever quite, elude you.
selling cash for cattle, iridium tip of tantric evaluation, nightmarish contemplation forbidden and deceased, i creeped into a jar of worms, and hid until someone closed the lid, and now im stuck with ego and Id, beneath the waves it is calmer still my friends my colleagues my foes.

Fed by RSS

Another bout in the ring on verbal joy, textual interference from the horses head, next to you in bed, casual as the the day after you were born it is easy to subvert things that already exist and rhymes come naturally but they suck, like a duck with lips, feel the infringing pattern of my sub par quips. okay im decided im gonna make this rhyme in time for tea, get into a taxi, race to manhattan stick a knife up your jacksi, thats so wack im spittin' out melon seeds, nutritional advice coming forth from the mouths of rhesus monkeys. Sort out the junkies, the machevellian poetesses,
mastodon or woolly mammoth transform into a cruise ship, get nipped by a parrot beak, in one week i will have moved house, acquired a lovehate for mickey mouse, black and white like jackson as he fades to grey, he had his heydey, now buried like a pharoah, what a way to go, put gnomes in my garden, pruning back my topiary as i smoke it, holmes, that shit is proper, get the croquet on the downlow, shooting hoops on my thirty acre lawn. chuck another pr0n on the barbie, darling and dont forget the wasabi, of which i'm quite partial, law gone martial, while youre all chilling in your marquee, hanging out in the vestebules, shooting arrows from the buttress, parrying cutlass swipes from lightweight pirates, yo ho ho and a bottle of Kaliber, zero percent getting you tips in the club, bones shake with the weight of the sub bass, let me see your O face. O, O , O.....

NO SLEEP (probably first of many)

MY VOICE HAS NEVER BEEN LOUDER!
ART MUST HAVE IMPACT,
BUT SADLY IMPACT CANT BE FORCED UPON ART.
THAT IS WHERE DESIGN SITS BACK AND RUBS ITS RUBBER GLOVED
GERM FREE HANDS.
I HAVE BEEN LYING AWAKE IN BED,
thinking about what I actually want to do with myself over the next few years. ( in a dreamlike almostfallingasleep kinda way)
I first of all thought about starting a magazine, and how i would go about that... i came up with something along the lines of a magazine for people fed up with the information age, I have always been intrigued by the idea of unlearning things, then reworking them into a format which suits you, (but meanwhile still retaining the truth) and then i thought about going in to do a masters, living in London, etc. but then i thought, hm, i need to work on a portfolio of amazing shit. - then i thought about how art has been such a big part of my life from day one, that i should really take it all the way and do a PHD, then i thought, "am i cut out for a PHD?" then i thought hell yes. THEN I THOUGHT.
I like that, "then i thought"
I reminisced back to my A-Level art daze, bright warm art room with Clouter and Hutton (my 2 art teachers) thought about how they operated, what they actually did for me, in terms of helping me develop as a budding artist, inspiration, technique, i suppose they were quite good in a way. I liked the buzz of my foundation course in Maidstone, it was exciting, and fast paced, with a good ratio of learning and practical work. Plus everyone got along great.
oh, Sunlight rising over my next door neighbours shadowed house. Turns out that writing a mental train of thought blog just before you go to bed, doesnt really put your mind at ease, ready to sleep... There are so many artists, illustrators, designers etc in the world right now, it is pretty saturated, especially with the internet taking over everyones lives, i mean come on, the internet is just an image, filled with interactive text and more images. blah de blah its all designed and reworked and designed right back up the throat of C:\FFS
haha. Sleep is not an option right now. , I just had an idea to "discover" this page on Stumble. fucking stumble, i mean, great idea, but not that great for someone who is liable to procrastinate for hours, given the right stimulus. on a different note, it seems like everyones so uptight using the net nowadays, got all this etiquette and jargon, i recommend the plain english guys. Heres an excerpt from their website.

http://www.plainenglish.co.uk/

Gobbledygook of the week

'The results of the price barometer illustrate that the reprieve in the pace of price inflation evident in the first quarter has abated.

brilliant.

Well, gobbledygook ey?

The legitimate inferrence negates the loyalty referendum in plain sight of the monetary axis, thereby opposing the fiscal membrane thus. and soforth.
yess... yess...

eyebrow to the sky, my good sons.

I dont really know why i never thought of this before, doing a warts n all goody bag of fun.

haha, ok, i was just looking at the google homepage, and thought "hey, if you put google into numerics, it would be 900913" so i typed it in, and VOILA

http://www.google.com/webhp?hl=xx-hacker&tab=iw

Images, #0

Some critics blast the train of thought, but they can just sit there and blast til theyre red in the face blown out like a zeppelin, i say pop them like the hindenburg, revel in their ultimate destruction, for they keep the clams, they keep the voices, i'm riding with grande vitesse straight into walls made of aerogel, carbon nanotube youtube walls in me, this is not for you, how dare you imply such a thing, this is selfishness, this is therapy, this is what I want for fucks sake get a grip, you sitting there on your chair, preening your JPEG GIF MAC laptop palmtop greased back hair, like a sasquatch with an iPhone, pandemonium, blogging like what im actually thinking, train runs deep, always thinking that someone will be reading in the back of my mind, but what the hell, marghhh venting but im not im laughing like a madman, maybe i am a madman, oh shit, haha. dog yelps street corner blim , creeping neversheds cambiotic recking balljob crapola highway shimpy greathing, slyly. absolute terror absolute bloody terror, now what, am i filling in the gaps perfectly, no. no. ventolin eases breathing, only once before youre teeth come through, two sets of milk teeth, like chicken pox, damn fly on my arm is making me itch, what a bitch, somethings on the tv i cant see it, the screen in front of me is too large there is a red light , no its amber, orange maybe, signifies that its muted, i think i made that too convoluted, in precise terms it would be easier, i need a piss. might have to stop this, no i'll keep it going while i go to the toilet take the plug out the back of the laptop no it wont work, i ca... look now im back straight in back to reveal whats going on within but is it really, or am i subconciously forming words which i know will fit, i dont really give a shit have i said that before, shit, i dunno, possibly, is this schizophrenic, cos if it is, ive been schizo for years, thats a worrying thought, but actually, it aint too bad, is there any viable result to this, can i look back and think oh i've progressed since then, or will it be the same from now until the end, fast words coming, coming oh i paused for a brief sec, gotta keep going though, gotta fill it all up, before i go to sleep, otherwise there might be more more more, like constantly on. everything is constantly on, houses, wires, facebook chat, goes on and on, doesnt sleep and nor do i , sucks, i realaly should go to sleep, this is so fucking geeky and lame, but hey thats just me i guess, haha, yeah defo. hands keep moving so thats a good sign, will they continue if my head doesnt come up with anything else, will this increase my ability to perform in the workplace, how will i know, here comes a scientist to figure it all out, well yes tom this is all worthy of being read thats for sure, hello there everybody, its me in the flesh, in the text i mean haha sorry i have a shit sense of huimour ( the scientist does, im actually pretty funny) self acclaim there, welldone, you gave yourself some praise. thats a good thing, well, where were we, this is getting quite verbose in some aspects, once we are knee deep, then all is well. i will wake up feeling refreshhed calm and relaxed ready for a big breakfast and a cup of tea. mmm i love breakfast, its one of my favourite things. Blogs have wings nowadays, like a twitter feed, feed me seymour, feed me, and cut, final cut PRO, make a video in slo mo of a hobo in soho, reading the metro, at the tube station waiting to go to waterloo ready for the hunting season, gunpowder treason and plot, my first begotten son, raiding the treasures of the lost ark, like harrison ford, delores, i dont know anyone called delores, gameshow talkshow, get your free nightingale peacock cockfosters fosters is brewed in scotland, scottish people are predominantly ginger, or so i hear, ive never been there, but it might be a popular misconception, i saw coronation street earlier, and this woman gave birth to a child in a shack, but when it came out, it had no umbilical cord, i wonder if it would be possible to use all the words in the english language in one blog entry, do these things have limits? i dont see anything saying that i have to stop, no 160 character limit to this, this is pretty cool really, nice one blogspot or whatever you call yourself, i might have to go now, but continue this when i wake, i wanns grab something to eat before i go to bed, cos all this typing makes a man hungry yesiree. there is some film reference maybe a cartoon reference somewerhere in here, im intrigued to see what ive written tbh, its gone past the stage where i can actually remember how this started something about a balloon , oh yeah i remember now, its all there still, there are bits where its sloppy i can imagine, but shit, absolute rambling. hooray for rambling way into the night on your own, and no, i dont have anything better to do, it's 2:14 GOODNIGHT SEE YOU TOMORROW :] x

Well here we are.

Well here I am. - Blogging like one of those blogger types.
Thought i'd set one up as a lobby for my increased desire to write for the sake of it.
who am I talking to?


I am someone else, I am sure of it.
Not in a previous life kind of way.
but it washes over, ebbing ever cautiously outward.
and polynesian fishermen cast their nets, visual, aural
while two old projector reels play half of my favourite song.
i wasn't there.

Left when you said, - hues of indigo
Gamut plays harp reverb in solace
amongst the hidden pillars.

steam and hum

Distant impulses and interruptions, (Given to you by someone) , stir your slumbering voice which once insisted to arp playfully. Now rots well into it's half life.
Raise to life, the quasi-futurist chorus, float on high timbre feathers of Horus,
friends teeter down the gravity staircase,
emotionless face,
ever turning pinwheels hailed to save the human marathon
kite bow, night knows fever, Hanami under white clouds.

The word Google makes me think of the sound of a death scene, where a man has had his throat cut.