The evening after the previous morning of the night before

To give this some context this was written after a drunken memory void night out, in a (terrible clichéd) coffee shop the following morning. Forgive any notion of grandiosity it is stained in blood sweat and alcohol.

I'm I'm not sure what to write, except I have a need to put it into words document and sure its exacted. I'm not sure i've anything to write that hasn't already been written before. Though comforting to think that i'm repeating the same words of some great philosopher or some deluded Psychopath. I then feel disgraced. I want to rub faeces around the transcript and fuck it to a pulp. It's wrong. I want Original. I don't want to paint by numbers. It's a falsity. Like a mind to paper, pen existence. It misses immediacy, orginality, the achievement of the masters.

I think, then think, then condense, then forget, then fuck around, eat, then write, blaspheme.

Think, then think, walking, pondering, writing, imprinted on a blood vessel hidden to be thought of later, forget, then thought of, and forgot again and until in surprise I find out my brain has come up with some miraculous theory. A way through to something more, better. Enlightenment reigns, if only temporarily.

The thing is i'm just complaining on a piece of tree with ink. What use is it? What is the point for such artifice of rebellion, when all is just in print, a static framework. Such a deluded voice, it seems to be radical but wheres the raw scrawls the picketlines, the Fucking.

And then I think about the drinking, the thought, the action that brought me here, an attempt to try to explain. The Want the Need to Fuck and be Fucked. The Art of Forgetting and Wondering into the imaginary landscape of dicks arseholes vaginas the excessive pleasure which is never enough and just a momentary blip into forgetting again and partly remembering what's next...

p.s. 05/12/10 I retain no explanation of this ranting. The thought i'd like to leave you with is an apology to a past of stupidity, a pathetic-ness; a self which is slowly fading.

Fear of the Mundane

I remember watching Newswipe at least a month ago, the episode was about Fear and destruction a vice which the media often use to lure in potential readers/viewers. The obvious examples of terrorism, knife crime etc. were used, all of which are a scary potential. The thing is it really masks how we feed off the fear to hide away from the mundaneness of life, we leap on the bandwagon to be concerned with something that apparently has a purpose or motion i.e. worry. It makes us justify our world view keeps us talking but also in someways restricts. But mostly it masks the mundaneness of our 'true' existence.

On reflecting on this now I realize how we prioritize things just for this purpose and not just drinking, relationships. This goes back to previous blogs of a breakup in an almost pointless relationship we went out nearly every time we saw each other we even first met while particularly pissed, i saw him more of a one night stand (a first for me). We had very little in common he was doing graphic design - obsessed with image to a disgusting (can't think of a better word) extent - loved general pop music (me liking mainstream as well as random alt stuff)and was generally quite uneasy when he spoke candidly often dressing up things with pointless phrases/ sidelining issues.

So why have i been so hung up over it? why would it matter if i 'broke up' with him?

Sure the ending of it was pretty horrendous but forgiving that theres a nagging 'I want it back' even though he didn't mean much. Ok he was Hot as well but I really think the reason is that i'm a third year student surrounded by work to do i.e. 10000 word dissertation, am with my housemates alot and generally go out too much which at times with housemates can be pretty samey especially in winchester. In need of excitement i need fun, variety something more than writing essays talking to the same people 24/7. And why can't I so glad this week is mostly dedicated to going out with people other then housemates need new blood and need to be away from them again to value them again.

I'm generally scared of mundanity - ME WANT EXCITEMENT

And another thing...

I always take things to heart or almost always - almost like my imagination helps create paranoia. I really need to chill for a bit, not take things so seriously for frig sake smile and think positively. I know at least two of my friends where this situation is needed desperately i take things way too seriously things go over the top i get wound up and things get a bit messy.

I just hope I have the determination to do so
Scratch that
I know I can do this

I think maybe all these ideas and ideologies are going to my head leading me to go too preachy on them. I know no one likes a preacher least of all me

-