procrastinate

as i have had exams and revision to be doing, and have therefore not been doing this and procrastinating (while somehow not posting anything on here..) i thought i would post a nice list of things that help you put off those ever approaching monoliths of education.

tidy. this is the first stage for most people; ‘my working area has to be clean, so that i may work productively in it’

nope, you’re lying to us- you want to put off the work. admit it.

eat. as i’ve already said on 1000 awesome things, right now i am justifying all the of the bad things i am eating by saying that they are contributing to my ultimate success in my exams, and in passing my first year. with the pass mark only being 40%, should i fail this, i suspect i will eat more bad food. although this time, i will have no excuse; i’ll just be eating my feelings.

shop. since the revision period started, i have found myself on websites such as amazon, play and waterstones looking up all the books i don’t really need, but really want, working out the pricing, comparing the prices on various sites, and at the end of all this, deciding not to get them anyways. these books include mexico city blues by jk, and flowers of evil baudelaire. but maybe if i pass it’ll be a celebration present…

read. it’s amazing how when it comes to study leave, no-one is prepared to read ANYTHING related to their course. and as this article is showing, is the fact we’ll do nearly anything to get away from said reading. we do, however, have an amazing capacity for finding other stuff to read. or maybe this is just me. but since study leave started, i have found the time to read a few books i haven’t had chance to in recent months; the age of reason being one, while now i’m reading the unbearable lightness of being. even more ironic is the fact both of those books, while awesome, are soul draining and depressing. especially the latter.

i am pleased to announce though that my flat mate has found the time to read three out of the four twilight books. yes.

facebook. this website will be the end of my, honestly. the concept is so simple; you upload photos, keep in contact with old friends, have it to keep in touch with friends you have now. so how, from this simple idea, do we get the life sapping, time wasting mess of a website it is now. it doesn’t even work half the time; yet i’m sat there staring at it like i’m taking part in the ludivico technique. facebook is a cheap, easy and accessible lobotomy.

wikipedia. see above.

lists. what i am going to revise, and when. what i am going to do after exams. how much money, on average, am i saving buy revising and not going out drinking. how much extra money will i have at the end of exams as a result, and how much will i have been paid by then. what can i buy with this money. books i want to buy after exams.

yes, i like to play mind games with myself.

buy. the time i have spent in my local and enormous tesco has become ridiculous. i keep doing small shops, instead of my normal, massive weekly ones by telling myself that i need an excuse to get out of the house during revision, and this seems like a good a way as any. this is a sad insight into my life.

write. anything, on anything. so far, this includes a plan for a book i plan to write (we’ll see!), a few emails to friends i haven’t seen or heard from in forever, a revision timetable, which soon got turned into a sketch of a cowboy, and ideas for blogging

i’m going to leave that here, though i still have exams coming up so odds are, this will get updated.

 

bret easton-ellis!

i don’t know about you, but i’m quite excited for bret easton-ellis’ new book; imperial bedrooms. it comes out this month in the states, i think, and in july in the uk (so importing a copy..). in the mean time, here is an interview with the legend;

enjoy!

 

a human zoo.

sooner or later i’ll actually get round to actually writing some new stuff; in the mean time i’ll upload some stuff i’ve written recently. when my exams are over, i’ll start posting new stuff, maybe some articles rather than the ramblings of a amateur (at best) writer…

he stood there, tanned and godlike; beautiful, with all the passers by looking out of the corner of their eyes and smirking. The girls eyed him up, wondering what the toned and defined body would feel like against theirs’; the guys wondering just who you get so handsome, if girls will ever look at them the same way they looked at him.

smiling all the while with white, ivory teeth that made the girls weak at the knees, promoting a life style for the shop he stood at the front of; a living advertisment for the vanity that corporate america was trying to sell to the masses. maybe the people on the street would buy the clothes, thinking they would be as beautiful as him, and the girls inside.

a girl was standing there, talking to him; he was a blunt instrument. she complimented him on his looks, his smile and the body that she could not take her eyes off. she asked him how he sculpted his body as such, to which he replied that he just had it, same way she was ‘just’ beautiful. some people have just got it. she kept asking questions with gleaming eyes, and asked for his number. ‘how about you write yours on me?’ he asked. it was all so tedious, he hated it.

never did she has how he was, what is hopes and dreams were, what made him laugh and cry. what books he enjoyed, if any, what he thought life, and all those grand mysteries. he was like an animal, trapped in a zoo, pacing up and down like a trapped tiger in a cage, that no-one had thought to open. and in plain sight, he was crying, but no-one saw his sad expression. no-one thought to ask him how he was. they did not want to look past the exterior, because they were too shallow, and weak.

i fucking hate holister and abercrombie.

 

sit/watch

so this is something i wrote a while ago, about a year ago when i was in australia. it’s been on my deviantart account for a good while now, and i figured i could post it here also. enjoy!

Sometimes it is a magical thing just to sit on a street corner, in a place familiar or afar, and just watch the people go by; their feet tapping out a strange song on the pavement, walking rhythmically through life with their suits and brief cases, in their own little private dance. It’s a great thing to watch people wander into the distance and imagine the streets, fields, acres of land stretching up until, and beyond, the wild, distance horizon, and just imagining the finite infinity and eternity of it all.

And you sit and realise how small you are; how humble you have to be to stand in a world that is too busy to watch a young poet, watching his fellow man walk past, and never bat an eyelid or smile. Oh the sadness in that, i say, i wish i could run up and hug you, stranger, and make you smile a smile you’ll never forget, and we’ll dance a dance of child like ignorant. But no, this world is but cold and as stoney as your expression, stranger, but what is a stranger, than a friend that has not yet been made?

So when you’re done sitting there, all the imagination of the places far and wide and plotting out all the wild things you would do there; dancing through neon streets at dawn, drinking some fine foreign brew, or sharing a joke with a fellow traveler or wanderer- take a step back and I realise this is nothing without you; but i’m still having a ball

It would be so much better together, so in my mind we, mad with love, run from street to street, roof to pavement, neither rich nor poor, dragging our happy souls, without all that baggage of the past, because none of that matters

We are free to love, because it is sacred; never sad, never ashamed, never guilt, with no noise in the dark, save our beating hearts

 

you know what’s cool?

your body can do amazing things. mine, for example, is such that whenever i decide to go and get  a hair cut, because my hair is annoying me or whatever, a day or two beforehand, my hair suddenly decides to do what i want, and actually look good. the same generally applies to old clothes, that you think look rubbish, but as soon as you contemplate going and buying some more, suddenly your clothes start to look good. i’m not sure if this is to do with my empty bank account affecting the way i see the world, or if my hair has a survival instinct that forces it to do something cool, instead of being shit.

yup, that’s pretty cool.

 

onelongsentence

some poem/prose thing that kinda just kept going…so i went with it. thoughts? does anyone actually read this blog? if you like it, tell your friends. if you don’t like it, tell them anyways, they might have different tastes to you!

we are wicked children, full of regrets and clumsy conversation, yet with elation our words rise and fall like the cracked sound of the radio, and we ride these air waves high, and my, my what it’s like to fall without a parachute, as we press mute on the television, finding it easier to think, drinking a sip and placing a well kept wink and nod to the thoughts hiding behind the corner, hiding on the border of our sight, all white like deer in traffic, and i have to ask why you are there anyways; i knock you down and keep on driving, pushing all the thoughts thriving around us.

onelongsentence, curling like caterpillars and string, you want to know where it’s been all your life in your misplaced and distracted thoughts; make no mistake, this is the first day of the rest of your life.

 

Neon Style Excited Prose.

Neon light trails the streets at dusk in the city, illuminating dull black and grey tarmac, and outshining evening stars. You won’t find Orion or Libra here. The shouts of kids drowned out by the traffic, their faces lit up bright by a thousand cosmic colours. Beat, beat, beat it goes. The heart of the city, the bassline of the clubs starting, as night falls, and a messed up generation y comes out to play.

I see it all, taking a sip of my wine and breathing out a tired and excited sigh. There is energy everywhere; the energy of youth and excitement, more potent than an atom bomb, but not quite as destructive. All riding on potential, we stand on the cusp of the night. Watching the lights makes me think of a mass of hallucinogens; they wax and wane like a magic candle. I imagine a dozen rainbow wolves, singing a song of urban loneliness under the neon facade.

It makes me want to scribble excited prose anywhere and everywhere. Pavements, bank notes and tableclothes. As a great poet said, ‘Through art, create order in the chaos of living’