The Nothing-much-to-do Day at work
by: Elle est Sev
This morning I took pictures of Arabella Churchill, her Husband, and the Farmer who owns the Glastonbury Festival field. The farmer also owns cows. They produce lots of milk every day. His wife is a midwife, which doesn't mean that she is in the middle of being his wife and being something else, but that she delivers babies.
They all gave Saif a cheque to build 6 houses in Aceh, for the Tsunami survivors.
Arabella Churchill's husband juggled pens.
I fetched some apples.
He juggled those too.
Then the Farmer who owns the Glastonbury Festival field shook my hand and mistook me for Joniad's sister.
Jonaid calls me sis now and I call him bro.
I had curry for lunch.
The End.

Kimi ni funky monkey vibration

And how are your runner beans this Sunday last month?
Tripping? No, not really. Merely finding ample time to fall in love again.

MIYAVI LOVE ALL ARROUND...AND ARROUND and arround until we're nice and dizzy and the world which is turning too fast for my liking spins faster and faster, and 'Here! You wanna spin!? Spin all you like till I puke! You benign tumor!'
When you stop there is something comforting about having messed up your sense of balance and bearing behind the darkness of eyelids and hands clasped over face.

Ryo is singing waaay too loud for 1:34 in the morning. I'm surprised the neighbours haven't reported us already...but then I guess he couldn't beat the Irish people and their toilet music (the music you hear from below whilst sitting on the toilet) so maybe it's ok.

I'm glad Ryo appreciates Miyavi.
I'm glad he doesn't launch into mad bouts of intense jealousy and male-ravalry-contempt towards him.
I'm glad he doesn't kick arround furniture and grind his teeth over the fact that I adore Miyavi so very much, and think that he totally rocks.
I'm glad he's mature like that, and realises that Miyavi could never be a real threat to our relationship.
Not unless I knew him personally.

I think I will go to bed now and dream about what to do with my hair.

May the force be with you always.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

Alexander Pope

Life is too short to be looking forward to the end of the day, every day.
Ladies, gentleman an hermaphrodites, welcome back to another session of blog-angsting, live from Whitechappel, London. I'm your host, Needy and Depressed. In the multiple personality sense, because We are lonely. This is Needy...say 'hi' to the audience, Needy.
NEEDY: 'Hi!'
DEPRESSED: Not so enthusiastic like, you fool. And you already know me, I'm Depressed. :)

Look ma', I'm writing captions! (shows hands, as though they had something to do with it)

• Two Sudanese children express their joy at the aid provided at Sakali camp Darfour
• Iraqi civilians recieve emergency relief
• A young Sudanese boy gets an emergency food pack
• The Muslim Aid mascot was a benign tumor at the GPU
• Qurbani in Alkay; needy Ruskis receive sacrificial ovine beasts
• 2 African chimpanzees pick each others nits
• An eskimo sneezes in a desolate, dessert of ice; the sneeze echos but no one hears it
• Someone savours a buiscuit; whole moon, half moon and total eclips
• Borris chugs a glass of Vodka
• A Chinese man romances his wife, but the neighbours think he's bullying her again
• A telephone rings in Kofi Annan's house
• Ariel Sharon farts and pretends it was his dog
• A young man falls in love...or thinks he does
• Jermain Jackson wonders if he ate a bad nut
• Leon Trotsky turns in his grave
• and Elest swivels in her swively chair

Life resumes, unperturbed.

I think that Gwidbi could almost be a word, and a funny bald one with thick spectacles and a bit of a vertical challenge. Gwidbi. Now if you'll excuse me, nature calls and Needy must answer.

Time: 15:16
Place: Work
Doing: Some Annual review-angst blog mongrel of a task
Reading: ??
In general: God of Small Things & Akuma no Ororon. Again.
Hearing: Mr. Children, Hana-Memento Mori
Feeling: Like a razor blade
In love with: No one
Hating: Do you want me to start??!!
No. Indifferent to: Ororon and Miyavi

Had the most heinously shiKKKt (with a tripple K) weekend in the history of crap weekends, and I've just noticed that my blog has turned into something really angry and pissed off at the world in general. This is because Ell est. As in am. Pissed off at the world in general.

But the sun is casting smaller, less troubling shadows, and the wind is carrying spring warmth even into the early hours of the evening, oblivious to us in the minutia of our bitter, politically charged, self important lives.

So what on earth am I supposed to do about it? The human condition dictates that man is born and will die alone. The earth's history dictates that our lives don't amount to a mili-second in the life time of the universe. And every satisfaction every achievement in our miniscule little personal-bug-existences, important only to us, is ultimately the death of our desires and ambitions, what the F** is there to do, really? REALLY?

I hate myself.
hate myself.
ate myself.
te myself.
e myself.
myself.
yself.
self.
elf. Lo and behold, 'tis the upsidedown half pyramid of self deprecation.