I've decided that if I'm ever to achieve anything, e.g. finish my book, end poverty in the world, travel to other worlds, you know, the usual wish list of those exposed to science fiction and Stan Lee at a tragically young age, I need to step outside time; so I'm in the market for a Tardis. Not fussy about model, but I would like one with a chameleon function; I plan to disguise it as a comic/old game shop and roam the cities of the universe... Any offers?
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Monday, November 22, 2004
Neeeerd!
I think I'll start a self-help group for extremely pretentious people. We'll watch episodes of Red Dwarf and Benny Hill and totally fail to find any deeper cultural significance in them. Help.
The good news is that symptoms should abate with age, as brain cells extingush in nihilistic ecstasy. Bastards. I wasn't done with them.
The good news is that symptoms should abate with age, as brain cells extingush in nihilistic ecstasy. Bastards. I wasn't done with them.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
I mean it. Confusicus ain't blogging here.
Actually, I find blogs slightly reassuring, in a I'm-no-ditzier-then-98.6%-of-the-human-race kind of way. Most blogs I've seen start with an apology for not making in a entry for so long, and a promise to improve. This almost invariably being two years old.
I fully understand this, having had a diary that managed three entries in one year during it's hayday. The problem's are dual; having something worth worth writing about (no problem for me, obviously), and dragging yourself away from the vital deeds of every day life, such as watching T.V., vacuuming, not doing the dishes, following links on the internet, long enough to impart your wisdom to... who?
Who are you? What are you doing here?
Usually it takes something like the threat of failing college to make me sit down and actually finish something. But this never finishes, it's just goes on until either civilization falls, I die (photo finish) or I or the server lose interest. Daunting, no?
Well, I laugh in the face of daunting. Then I hand in my essay on time, having typed for fifteen hours straight on a topic other than the one I researched.
I think I'll go and have a cry now. To much self-awareness is bad for the self-esteem.
I fully understand this, having had a diary that managed three entries in one year during it's hayday. The problem's are dual; having something worth worth writing about (no problem for me, obviously), and dragging yourself away from the vital deeds of every day life, such as watching T.V., vacuuming, not doing the dishes, following links on the internet, long enough to impart your wisdom to... who?
Who are you? What are you doing here?
Usually it takes something like the threat of failing college to make me sit down and actually finish something. But this never finishes, it's just goes on until either civilization falls, I die (photo finish) or I or the server lose interest. Daunting, no?
Well, I laugh in the face of daunting. Then I hand in my essay on time, having typed for fifteen hours straight on a topic other than the one I researched.
I think I'll go and have a cry now. To much self-awareness is bad for the self-esteem.
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