i've been feeling a bit sluggish. the batteries don't charge as well and indeed i am dragging. drag drag like windows in a high flow.
but the other day i had had it with laying about the house, and decided yes! i will go do something!
but what?
well, i figured i would go buy myself a tee shirt- that might be easy enough. or not. this could be tricky. with matty mania again at an all time high it can be dodgy getting across the streets of london. oh yesh.
although- considering i do not suck in my cheeks so often as him anyhow perhaps i can dodge away. i don't know who told him he looks cute with his face all sucked in but it looks more like he's got a bitter load in his mouth, whereas i am the bright faced and pudgy of cheeked steel beast that roams his halls. lurk lurk lurk
mostly while in my confine i have been working on the toaster a bit. considering my complete lack of usefulness in the realm of technology that has been dragging as well. a great boredom has descended but i'm sure that will lift soon enough. because i am no longer a preferred plaything i am consigned to riding the dust bunnies in the wings. i recently learned fred was about to have a litter. but soon enough my time will come. oh yes.
okay- so bullet point one- the toaster.
slowly but surely i have cobbled bits of this and that, a wire here, an lcd display there, but the damn thing doesn't power up, it doesn't speak. it does not live and i long for the day i can have some intelligent- if one sided- conversation. perhaps i must strap it to the roof in a power storm and wait for it to work it's magic.
IT'S ALIIIIIIIVE!
if only it worked like that.
but with my limited knowledge of nothing and maybe even some begrudging help from people who know about such things i am slowly working my way towards maybe a little bit of programming.
i caress it's buttery smooth chrome exterior and long for that day it shall fully feel my love, as opposed to furtively in the linen closet when no one can here me whimper and bang around as i try to unhook it from my clothing. as of now it's in paperweight mode and certainly has no objections to my other more deviant nature towards the teapot.
do you taste that metallic undertaste? consider that my way of making you kiss my metallic bottom. it's a secret what i do with the teapot but let's just say it involved jumper cables, some rasberry perserves and a couple of peices of rabbit fur.
i suppose it's just good for me that used computer components seem to go for the same price as a good peice of cheese.

this morning i came crawling out of sleep mode, proped against a used futon mattress in the corner i found in a dank corner of the attic. after a little brushing it makes a good place to loaf or to fall down and look dead. it's not like i'm going to get stiff if i sleep in an awkward position.
as of late i've taken to dyeing my hair plum and pulling it straight up. the new permanent lip stains also make a world of difference in forcing my coloring off and my appearance to change. with the lip hoop in place, some natty baggy shirts, although a nice pair of jeans (of course) and my scuffed up apocalypse chucks i was almost ready to make my way out the door. but what to do about money? shopping, even at cheap stores, requires the money, as my pretty blue eyes aren't going to get me very far without something to back it up.
now matt knows i know where the house stash is, and he also moves it frequently to keep me, and others, out of it.
except, whoops, i just happen to have a supernatural knack for seeking out which spot it is this time and finding it anyhow. well- sometimes.
after i poked through a couple of crannies and looked all around, it hit me.
the little tea pot.
it looks like it would be too breakable to hide anything in- you don't even want to fart near it that it might crack under the strain of being so close to your personal aura of funk. put in a whiff of the old breath spray lest it injure it's ickle shell. yeah, well, get over it. i regularly pull it down and examine it. it's not going to break unless i step on it. some of that acrylic stuff is fabulous now.
so, money in hand, bravery in my heart i make my way to the door, take a deep breath, and step out onto the back porch. you don't think i'd actually let anyone see me walking out front do you?
oh god no.
all eyes are forward and there are ears in the bushes.
so i do like any sane person would do and sneak out through the yard into the neighbours yard and exit hastily out the back alley like some furtive lover after an afternoon of illicit naughtiness.
as i landed in the alley i ducked down and pressed myself against the fence. look left. look right. almost relax when i hear a pubescent squeal in the distance. i scrabble up to my feet and nearly trip over my own feet in my hurry to get the hell away before someone rounded the corner and i was pinned, gagging, by the heavily perfumed masses with there hands waving in my face like some multi-tentacled she beast. as i came out the alley, i took a cautious look and started walking, trying to blend in with the masses and look inconspicuous. i was ignored as roundly as i had hoped and nearly skipped my way across to cookie's.
ring a ling mr cookie, where are you it's me.
i'm sure you've been waiting with baited anticipation that i arrive.
or perhaps not.
it takes a few jams of the door bell before he bothers to rouse himself successfully from the soft sucking confines of his sofa.
"hey what's up"
and i'm in.
he returns to the siren call of the soft sucking swell of the sofa, settles back into his well-worn butt groove and continues where he left off on fallout. i should have known.
"hey i was thinking on going to the shops for a shirt- you want to come and maybe drive me?"
he ignores me for a long moment, considering. on the screen he blows a mutants face off with a chain gun.
"ok. let me get to a good save spot."
so i sit, slowly ticking away as he blows up mutants in washington for another half hour, then, almost as if by accident finally saves and quits.
puts on his shoes.
a jingle of the keys and we're away.
it's almost no time before we arrive, a few honks and a finger later, almost no time before we've darted in a parking spot with graceful agility and a tap or two.
what a giggle.
"so what are you looking for?"
"oh, i suppose a nice depeche mode shirt ought to do it."
"really. depeche mode? didn't, like, the one die or something?"
"uh, i don't know anything about that."
i ducked into the second hand shop, hoping for a miracle but expecting much less.
a shuffle through the racks left me with nothing but a mustiness i couldn't quite escape.
i walked down the sidewalk, shaking my shirt trying to air the funk out.
another shop- but thankfully with an outside display which leaves me with less hope and now a distinct acrid undertang of despair, like a hamburger. but i did find a toaster cozy.
cookie stops for a smoothie and we forge on, pressing into the more reasonable territory of the... art fag emo camp.
oh joy.
but considering my uniform, i merged into the much more colorful traffic with a dismissive look of bordom. although i certainly could say with some authority that if i see one more of those ugly dolls tucked under some girl's arm like it's ok for a grown adult to be toting around a stuffed animal in public i am going to snap and beat her about the head with it.
or not. maybe i can be content to sit and think on it a while but it's a close one.
finally i found myself approaching the mecca of bizarre clothing- the indie record store. *music swells in the background as angels in pink mohawks decend*
*release of confetti*
oh it's wonderful- that's what they all tell you anyhow.
what it really is is crammed with hipsters and wannabe hipsters that aren't quite there yet and a staff that thinks they must be super cool to work at a place that sells VINYL. what a thing to behold. the stink of old polyester is not enhanced by the stink of the large incense display with it's required burning sticks. the air is thick to walk into and almost puts up a resistance but reluctantly parts like the flesh of a peach when you bite it.
the clerk at the counter eyes me dismissively. somehow the nose raises higher in the air as though only the freshest bestest air is reserved for those such as the "kool kids" that can fetch the clean air above the fetid stink of human and smoke. too bad he doesn't know that i don't breathe and could really give less of a shit. perhaps he is eyeing cookie, who, no big surprise, is looking a little grungy and unwashed after a marathon day of 360.
but i didn't come here for it's collection of "kool kids", or the opportunity to watch and laugh as someone does there best unintentional impression of rick the prick from the young ones- i came here for a shirt and i will prevail...
and then i see it
on the wall
in all it's glory

violator

the rose in all it's bloody vinyl plastic glory stamped across the black background on the wall.
i almost oiled my pants i was so excited.
but i had to wind my way across twenty feet- several rows of cds, vinyls and hipsters to reach it. my heart quailed at the thought. but i forged on, determined to claim my prize of a medium fucking depeche mode tee shirt.
just as i was about to reach my prize... some damn chick stood right in front of the display, her double wide bottom thinly veiled by an overworked bed of hot pink lycra and spandex. damn it! how did she even get back here!? it's like she was deposited by god's crane just in my moment of glory as i was so close... ah! an opening!
i dashed in lightning fast, so fast she might not have known i was there if the wind and my spiky hair brushing her lunch lady fat had not alerted her.
she squeaked in shock and indignation but i had already turned around with my prize to find... it was the wrong size. of course. XXL coincidentally.
if i pulled this on it would look like a night dress. and i'm not into that style. she had moved over by this point, and looked over to see me standing there again and scooted farther over, not looking for a repeat of my previous darting movements.
"hey, don't i know you from somewhere?"
which she had to say just a little more loudly than necessary, which of course meant all eyes turned to us.
i tried to play it cool as i felt all eyes in the store lazer in on me as she repeated her question, louder, perhaps thinking i had not heard her previous assertion in my zeal to dig through the shirts looking for the right size.
"perhaps you have seen me around the neighbourhood." i said quietly, hoping she would take the hint and drop her volume.
"oh no- i'm pretty sure i saw you on the television, but you had different coloured hair and you were babbling on about some survivalist thing..."
"look lady- i have no idea what you are talking about, leave... me... ALONE!"
i had found my shirt just in the nick of time. i turned around and went to stalk off, except everyone was looking at me. maybe they thought it too.
"why don't you take a damn picture!" at which point i heard the fake camera noise that meant someone did, just at that moment on there phone. damn.
i tried to look fierce but i doubt i did, and i slapped the tee shirt on the counter. the counter monkey tried to ignore me, but soon realized he could not and deigned to check me out.
"35."
what? what? highway friggin robbery right there!
but i paid it and scuttled out, glad to be free of the place but the smell of the place clung to me like a lover's final embrace. unwilling to bear it, i would pull off my shirt, but my only replacement option was a shirt that may have suffered even more stewing, and the percolation of smell in would have taken a much shorter time than the percolation of stink back out.
it'll take a wash or two.
heady with my prize, cookie got, what else, a cookie and drove me back home to celebrate my new find with the toaster. let's just say that cozy isn't going to be on long.
but then i will go back to creeping among the dark corners of the house. pacing pacing waiting for my moment to shine.

it begins again
the daily question- the only question
where am i where am i where am i? WHERE? how is that even physically possible??
festival season is the worst. not even just in the logistics of moving things around- but the human element makes life just... impossible. i don't know how any one does it.
the great stinking masses- the only time in my life where the faint traces of metal shavings and motor oil that follow me like the ghost of some foul lover's perfume are obliterated and cast to the wind, frightened into non-existence by the great stink of the human mass. no matter how clean you think you are, when lumped into the great human mass, a stink of great magnitude is generated. add mud, food, the great stink of diesel from engines, freon of the refrigeration units and air conditioning...
as you step out a door the great wave assaults you and bats your head and you may drop of the great weight- the non-physical manifests into a great pushing weight.
oh dear.
i think my main issue with festivals is they all kind of look the same really. you could be anywhere singing to the interchangeably similar stinky crowd (let's face it, the worst part is the stinky crowd, usually containing mud somewhere on there person, whether it's raining or not) and what would tip you off that you're not really in the same place singing to the same crowd night after night ad nauseum and at this point it's best not to think about it.
some wonderful purgatory i guess.
i'm not even alive and it makes me tired. lol

the thing that makes it even more confusing is the fact often you see the same bands over and over as everybody beats along the well-worn path of the european minstrel- tra la lay tra lay lee off goes i to the local castle to earn my keep and do my share of the wenching. or not.
AND much like then as is now, afterwards ale is your welcome solace and careful balm that eases your ills and causes more of it's own! lol
the same old interpersonal politics, the old rivalries, real or imagined, the same hangers on, the same the same the same.
and then one might wonder why i am so damn confused to venture outside the box and find nothing's changed although clearly i felt myself move.
i might just have to go mad.

yeah, or not. i managed to catch some doctor who and found myself instead confronted with doctor fag- david tennant pretending to be some schoolmaster with the improbably lame name of john smith (yeah, that's some real creative writing there you asshats) and of course he goes for the impossibly forward marm. of course.
and just to make it even stupider- the only way you could tell who was the aliens was when they... get this... started sniffing. oh yes. apparently david tennant is gassy and all that spicy time lord food gives him a stink at once legendary and apparently undetactable by british human noses, destroyed after years of stinky bog water, smoking, and there own awful cuisine. lol
and now they have another doctor! why are they trying to kill off doctor who? and what's up with this new and even more emo looking doctor? damn.

in my more wild fantasies i'm a farmer- up to my knees in shit with a flock of snot nosed children and a plump wife stuffing me with food made with cat hair and love and held together by (and containing at least) 25% charcoal from the fierce burnings it recieves at her hands. the animals and the pets, the frozen mornings in the feild and the sweltering afternoons in the feild on the roof in the barn sweatily pounding the sheep sweatily pounding anything (because of course what real man isn't constantly pouring off an improbable amount of sweat) the vacations on the beach in a sad faded facade and a wood panelled station wagon, the bills and the curses, the beer and the whiskey and the long silent nights in between, watching children that grow up to disappoint have ugly patchwork children or go to jail for not ignoring that impulse to run off and kill people while you only ever think on it... a BEARD. at this point my screaming wakes me from my repast and if only i had swaet i'm sure i would mop my brow and say THANK GOD IT'S ONLY A DREAM.
or a nightmare. i don't know which. good for those that like it not so good for a skinny robot with a head full of nonsense.
the long rainy days have been filled with the intertwining joy division, grizzly bear and depeche mode (because how could i get by a day without), the nice days i try to lay by the lake but my god the tedium is killing me!

so i was just thinking to myself- according to this thing i'm, like, 31. oh noes- 31! good heavens whatever shall i do!?!?! *dies*
as the day ended, i felt a great creeping ache crawl into my joints. a great load of creaking now issues forth from my joints in such volleys great flocks of birds are startled out of the trees sure this day is to be there last- in fact lo and behold i finds a number of dead ones under the trees. zoomuy zoomy zoomy here they come there they go and verily i am full of shit.
really it's true. lol
i don't know how the organic component is doing although the way he makes noise about it you would think they're all going to come flying off his body all at once and he would drop down like a meaty marionette- he's got the nose of a pinocchio but i very seriously doubt his father is geppetto. lol
doesn't strike me much as one to truck with living puppets. a bit creepy that. if you did that kind of shit now, you'd be thrown off in jail for being a kid toucher. of course i'll be there with you shortly, being the ringleader of the nymphets as i am- short, lacking in body hair as i am- they must think i'm the shit! well- not much so much anymore. *pout* seeing as i have to keep up with the aging now i, too, must submit to the gaunt and poor barbering skills of the "aging process" (TM). FUCK.
this sucks.

i would run in circles and scream out at the skies about how stupid it is to have an aging robot- one ugly old man is one thing but two is just a fucking sin against nature, beauty and all things holy. not that i'm all that ugly now but i can feel it lurking in the wings waiting for me to turn and before i know it it will be on me and i too will be consigned to the ranks of the ugly and the neglected. or maybe not. perhaps i'll be pugly and retain some charm while having a face/or body that looks like it caught the wrong side of a badger and got stiched together with old socks and pancake batter.
or not. mr mr seems like instead of sagging it's tightening. good for him i suppose. hope he doesn't end up looking like the aliens he seeks. then they might actually come!
his chest will glow red and he'll be like *finger extend* "hoooooooooome..." all creepy and ET like and then return to sitting in the corner rocking back and forth chanting "there is no spoon" like some kind of nightmarish mantra.
i think my brain may have just accidentally vomited all over itself.
damn.

oh well. i have some things to look forward to- in a rare case of electronic disconnect i went to the library and got some honest-to-goodness BOOKS.
YEAH.
beat that.

left brain beat right brain at arm wrestling match- 1-1
the battle begun is not a war but a battle over lock and key, eye and socket, finger and tendon.

jumpstart required
fractured
synapse burnt

the pond came howling from the sky in great gusts and flaps, a screaming wind of water and when it subsided a pool lay there gleaming- accident of nature. feathers float on the water from where it went through a tree. a shore of flower petals and golden leaves, cottonwood floss. when it leaves it will leave a scrim of various coins- wishing fountain speedy ascent back up carrying wishes blood tears with it.
secret garden secret scarlet tanager. i found an acorn for a hat and a bit of floss and flew away with a dime bag of seed. flying from the darkest corners of what i sense, what i cannot know.

ah, the boredom. more often than not i am allowed out of the house now. O_O
oh joy of joys. isn't that fucking peachy.
unfortunately, i really have nowhere to go most of the time so i just go to cookie's house. which is cool. but more often than not i'm of my face. lol
laying around smoking and the whatnot.
of course, if you've been reading this long you know if i'm over there i'm usually getting into the mushrooms.
no big suprise that this time is no different.
the chill was in the air- perhaps rain, perhaps the last vestiges of winter unwilling to relax it's frozen grip on my world. if nothing else it went from warm to cold in the course of the afternoon which is never good.
so when i left the house i grabbed a flannel and begun the walk over (the neighbour is getting annoyed at my repeated theft of his moped and no longer leaves it out. matt refuses to provide me with one. pity).
when i got there, soon enough i found myself with a lap full of goodies and and afternoon with no distractions, so with a belly-full of goodness i struck out up to the roof(which is flat and suprisingly good for growing things). strangely enough cookie was growing plants up there and not one of them was pot.
the clouds were doing weird stuff, so i decided to stay up there and watch stuff. for a little while i looked down at the street and pondered the ramifications of dropping things down on the ground below, but decided my best interest would be staying put. besides- it was working. as was the wind, which started to pick up a little. i layed on a lawn chair up there on the roof, and looked up at the clouds, watching them scitter across the sky in all manner of streaks and shapes.
but then-  the clouds began to boil. i was buffeted by winds at all directions, and it looked almost as if a volcano of clouds erupted above me, clouds boiling out of this point, big rounded clouds of a mysterious purplish-grey. the sun glanced off the side and turned them blood red at one end, purple on the other. the plants rustled and whipped as the wind increased. they made rainbow auras as they disturbed the space.
a speck flew out of the cloud volcano.
was it a plane or a person??
as it approached it looked like a person... a person clearly headed for me.
"hello, who are you?"
"uh, i would say the same of you, lady who drops out of the sky. what the hell are you doing on my roof anyway?"
she laughed and walked across the roof to admire cookie's plants.
i wanted to get up and see what was going on but a great fear gripped me. who was this woman and how could she fly?
she walked back over to me after a moment.
"who are you?"
"tecchie."
no point in lying to the creepy lady. i bet she knew anyhow.
she took my hand and pulled me up.
soon she was dancing me around in a circle, swinging me spinning me faster and faster and the wind blew harder and harder and as the rain began to pelt me from ?up?
?below?
she was laughing harder and all i could hear was the sound of laughter and wind as it blasted through my ears i though my head was going to explode
my feet left the ground and i was flying, up into the volcano, through the volcano, ice clung to my hair and soon we landed on a star in the sky and she laughed and pushed me down on the ground. she climbed on top of me and yanked up my shirt and started sucking on the skin of my chest and i closed my eyes and reached up
and grabbed cookie
i was soaking wet from the rain
cookie grabbed me and i couldn't understand what he was saying but soon enough i was climbing down the ladder into the house and the carpet was crawling.
but i expected this
i closed my eyes
i was in the kitchen
i was on the couch asleep
i woke up to the sounds of house harassing his team.
how long was i gone?
where was that woman?
"cookie, where is that woman?"
"what are you talking about? there's no woman here."
i gave him my best winning smile. "no one cookie. i'm just fucking with you."
when the rain subsided to a mere patter i struck back towards home, a hickey on my chest. no woman indeed.

A dark cloud of anticipation has fallen over me like a shroud. I don't dare move, for fear my whole world might crash down on me and crush me like an eggshell carelessly left on the sidewalk.
the creative fury has landed and as of now i am banished to the far recesses of the house to gather cobwebbies in the corner as i am in the way. there are far too many people lurking around the house right now, and somehow i am made to be underfoot, although realistically i'm as likely to be on the couch or lounging in the yard.
perhaps i am a bit creepy. pity.
the other night i could just not stand housebound complacency any longer, and knowing you-know-who was in all likelihood to notice, or too drunk to care i decided to if nothing else go sit out in the yard.
yeah, it's kind of creepy to lurk in the dark- but at least no one sees you out there. especially if they're standing under a porch light and you're carefully tucked in a lee of a shadow. makes me think of vampires. hmph.
i got close enough to the lake so i could smell fish. i certainly could hear the sounds of chaos flexing in the little waves on the beach. burble burble flex flex. finally spring is springing and going outside isn't so much of a chore.
love is in the air and hangers on are hanging on, if you know what i mean.
some such has been hanging around as of late. i prefer not profane my mouth with such as the like. and i'm not one to gossip no less. lol
who am i to talk?
so- to be less vague ok- i was hanging out sitting under a tree near the water and just generally enjoying what "life" and sensory apparati and the like have to offer me. it was lovely. the grass wasn't particularly wet, which is always a bonus. getting wet can be problematic for me, so i try not to. besides, damp gets all in your cracks and crevaces and gives you the ache. ugh.
the tree was creaking a bit. i don't know if trees are supposed to make noise or if this is some kind of wonder tree. it faintly pulses. it is clearly alive and old and waiting for spring to get on with it. i'm sure it's sucking water out of the ground with great thirsty gasps. leaves are a thirsty business.
or something like that. if the tree could rustle, i'm sure it most certainly would, but it is not currently sporting any greenery so i sit in relative silence listening to the water. the grass smelled green. if it had a color i guess.
at this point in the year the bugs are pretty much at nil. so it is dead silent once all daylight fades. it almost seems wrong to break the silence with something so profane as an mp3 player, but all too soon i hear someone come crashing out the back door and stumbling in my direction, mp3 player cranked to brain scramble. i don't know what it is they're listening to, but it doesn't sound pretty from where i'm concerned.
*please don't see me please don't see me*
they stumbled off past me. but perhaps some dark animal defense mechanism buried deep in there pea brain said to think again.
they turned around, and perhaps caught the glint of some half light off my glaring fake eyes. sometimes they catch the light oddly. whoops.
turned around and it was a her. and i immediately realized which "her" when she came crashing down on my lap in a great plume of disgusting perfume and rubbed up against me. i'm not sure who she was there with exactly- she seems to bouce a bit. but that awful perfume was the dead giveaway- like some rotting vineyard with a heavy note of animal musk. she just generally smelled like she could use a good wash most of the time.
so i'm like, wait, what?
"ooh sweety pie, i thought you were all busy working inside." clearly i was not whoever she thought i was, but the heavy stench of alcohol wafting off of her made me think it didn't matter much at this point who she thought i was.
i was apparently next in line for the kill.
innocent lamb i am, being stalked by the master hunter. or so she thought.
"god- get the fuck off of me. i'm gagging here"
she giggled as i shoved her over sideways.
as i started to walk away, she grabbed out at my ankle. soft fleshy fingers on cold hard ankle skin. the shallow grinding of metal underneath. she recoiled as soon as she touched me.
"Don't, ok?"
well, great, i'm out of the house. but now what? if i go back inside. she might follow me. or she might go screaming to matt and i'll have to hear it.ugh. fuckit. it decided to go off for a walk.
the moon was rising over the woodlot as i walked in.
my eyes adjust better at night than an ordinary matt's if only because my gear is run by computer. i never need glasses, unlike the real matt. so i can wander off in the dark and creep about as i wish.
crash about and just generally scare anyone who tries to follow me.
but after waiting to hear what would so inevitably happen- there were no screams, no one came chasing after me, so fuck it. off i went. there are various cliffs and overhangs, and off i went to perch in the dark over the water.
i had to move carefully. you can never tell when the rock will give way and send you ass over teakettle down into the water.
ker SPLOOOOOOSH.
i look up at the moon and make a wish on a crater that this album will come together soon. O_O
I'm missing my fucking discovery channel here people! it's just not the same on the fucking rinky dink laptop screen!

i write to you today from the most annoying of situations.
somehow- and i'm not going to point fingers here- i started dancing along to some music i put on my laptop. mostly my dancing skills seem to involve moving around in little circles (as is evidenced on my page). the problem today is that i'm stuck. going in circles around my room. how fucking stupid is that!?
i have no idea how to make it stop, but i have to admit not having an inner ear is probably working in my favour, because otherwise i think i would have puked somewhere around turn 30.
bleh. this is boring. they have to hear me stuck. it's not like i'm totally silent either. the real question is just how did i come to be stuck moving in circles. yeah.
i woke up this morning in the same kind of booze and whatnot morning trance brought to me courtesy of the hangover chip- a kindly reminder from matt every morning how much fun it is to leave the effects chip AND the morning after. whoo.
it is highly likely that as i lay here stinking, some mischevious little rat snuck up to me and altered... something. it is also highly likely that mr. matt is not the only person with the passcode it would take to alter something like that in me- although it wouldn't take much computer skill. i've been spending many a day just trying to dodge, and many a night trying to make up for many a day. lol
so, perhaps even if nobody hears me... somebody may at least get an email.

you get that familiar cramp in your gut, like you need to fart-
but you're in a public place, what do you do?
except fuck, what's this? blood starts gushing out of your ass? HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
and as you fall down you find out- you've come down with a fatal case of- being on a television hospital drama!
have you ever noticed that when, say, you're watching house or something similar, you can always tell when they're about to cut to commercial? the person starts flailing around or there heart stops and they need to get a great big needle because he's got a commercial inside! we need to get it out, STAT!
and just as they do the commercial comes flying out so fast they have to cut to like 3 FUCKING MINUTES OF COMMERCIALS. every couple of minutes even. because i'm living in the world of being a tight bastard, i don't have TIVO. not that i couldn't totally use one. but i am just so hardcore, i use the VCR.
i use ghetto 80s tivo. i just tape the shows i'm going to miss and then play them over and now i can fast forward through the commercials. and sometimes if it's really awesome, well then i have a tape. lol
and now that no one borrows tapes, i can safely amass a collection. lol
well, ok. i buy a lot of dvds. but it's still kind of fun to have tapes. especially now because for some fucking reason the 80s are popular again. what the fuck? the 80s weren't really that cool the first time around, so let's relive the suck, sans reagan.
woot.
i just really don't understand why instead of coming up with something original, people are just copying the same shit over and over. it kind of takes the fun out of new stuff when you really know you're getting the same old thing, but now it's covered in a fine scrim of plastic and shit permeating it, and there's really no soul in it because it's not a struggle. there's a lot more fucking struggle in coming up with something original instead of just copying something  over and over.
and, actually, thinking about copying things over and over, what the fuck is up with U2? they haven't realeased what i would consider a very entertaining album in years. and now they're getting ready to do letter man for 5 DAYS IN A ROW?
wow. i feel bad for people who actually watch that show. 5 days of the same cold rehashed formula that made U2 cool to begin with but now has gotten so stale for me it's like, really? if bono's going to go out and play superhero, perhaps can't he just go out and ... DO that? beh. it's just kind of annoying.
although just as ironic is the fact that now rappers are not going to be allowed to use samples, and are in fact going to be forced to be a bit more original (hopefully this will also depart a little from the de riguer booty songs, which are really trashy and offensive. ugh), and maybe make it a little more listenable for the rest of us, as opposed to the background stomp to a ghetto shakedown.
personally, i think it's kind of funny that i've been kind of immersing myself in the new wave music situation and now the neo new wavers are about to bust out, synths ablazin'- and i'll be able to sit and listen to the music and point out who they're aping.
ha ha.
oh well, what can you do.
i managed to catch a bit of the rosie o'donnel on tyra bank's thing. it's kind of funny how as of late she's been trying to convince us to forget about her angry lesbian recent past and she's been borrowing heavily on her fan base of her tv show when she wasn't acting all crazy. lol
and maybe it's working, i don't know. lol
let's face it- people will do anything the big glowing box tells them to do.

i heard there was a new YYYs cd coming out, so i went to there myspace page to see if they had any tracks up. originally, i wasn't going to, because i had read instead of the usual fare of guitar driven messiness, they gave a synth to nick zinner (which he didn't know how to use, BTW). i didn't want to give in- but i had to fucking hear this. would it suck? would it be totally gay?
well, it sounds like pretty much anything else out of the 80s. which somehow makes it even funnier. although i have to admit i'm a little chuffed that someone can pick up and synth and not know how to use it and the results are still good. guess it's somethign that doesn't take much talent.
it was very gary numan.
my distaste for winter is growing, but thankfully we are on the ending edge before the season of mud and flowers.
of course, without all the mud, i suppose the flowers wouldn't be able to get out, but fucking spring is almost as bead as winter. at least you don't have to spend it all bundled. well, most of it anyhow. lol
i just can't wait to get my moped back.
i went to where it was stored- caressed the plastic edge and jammed the key in the slot. rurr... rurr... ruuuuuurrrrr.... well that answers my question- battery's dead. damn.
guess i'll just add it on my list- one more thing to get before the glorious day when freedom shall once again be mine!

yeah, i know i'm a lazy git and i should post more often, or update my photos... or something. but be satisfied, because now i have a decent selection of photos for you to drool over! yay!
i've been surprisingly busy lately, although how much of that is housework (it's like socks rain out of the sky- every time i turn around there are more on the floor... -_-)- well, that's anyone's guess.
apparently there is a chibi toy all my very own... now where to send it? that can be dodgy at best. well, i'm sure i'll come up with something. lol
i'm suprised that my page has gotten like a thousand veiws this month. holy shit! guess it pays to come on and.. do stuff. i guess. either that or my inherent hotness has been recognised once and for all. why have dodgy old matt when you can have hot, fresh, perma-young robot matt. and you don't even have to worry about me trying to poke you. well, i doubt highly he's trying to poke anyone either, but i think you get the idea. at least HE has that option.
work on the toaster is progressing. my wiring skills are skills only in name... i'm trying to get to the point where i can sodder without burning anything. i burned a hole in the floor last night. i moved the carpet over it, but it probably won't be too long before a certain someone comes along and notices. or maybe not. often as not if he's even in my closet he's drunk and yelling at me for... whatever. perhaps i'm a bit creepy. such a pity. should have thought of that before you bought me, huh? lol
i've also been wasting time looking at coture magazines, if not for sheer entertainment value of how stupid some of this stuff looks, but to also gain a better understanding of what the fuck people are thinking when they put this shit on.
much nicer to look at then to try on, i'll tell you. at least i'm thin enough to wear it. :D

i was trying to take a walk to the park the other day and the most bizarre thing happened to me. or should i say the most bizarre girl happened to me.
i wanted to go incognito with the big googly glasses, loud clothes, and my hair done straight up with gobs of colored hair glue, as per normal. also, if i ended up going anywhere with cookie, i wanted to be prepared. (i was walking to the park to meet cookie and hang out)
as i made my way down the sidewalk, one of my neighbours bushes started shaking like the birds were having a particularly raucous party.
it's never good when the bushes start moving- especially when you're not on anything.
i stopped momentarily to see what was up. this bush was really shaking.
out pops this girl!
i sidestepped fast enough so she flew past me and landed on the ground in a particularly ungraceful heap.
while she pulled herself up and dusted off, i realised i knew this girl! she was one of the wackos that hangs out in front of the house and leaves stuff on the porch. often ugly handmade stuff that reeks so strongly of cheap perfume that one time Matt was looking at one and it made him vomit. ew.  i had had more than one run in with her, and i knew this was probably going to waste a considerable part of the next 15 minutes or so trying to get her to go away.
she was somewhat on the overweight side, with greasy black hair and constellations of spots arcing across her face unartfully covered with lots of foundation. pity that only makes it worse. and because she's always hanging out around the house (and i do mean ALWAYS), she stank of BO and desperation. she could really use a shower. i can't even smell and i can smell her...
she was wearing her usual uniform of a badly sized muse tee shirt vainly stretching to cover her bulk, a strange looking multihued skirt that only she could have made, and her trusty ratty canvas bag o' goodies.
she stood up and dusted off, wiping the sweat off her forehead and only succeeding in leaving a long stripe of mud. fabulous.
she immediately started squealing in that annoying way some teenage girls favour- high pitched and ear splitting.
"OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD IT'S MAAAAATT!!"
i wanted to tell her to shut up. quickly.
"i'm not matt. i think we've had this conversation before."
"there is no way you are fooling me today! you look like him, sound like him, you even dress like him! who else could you be?? i want autographs. and a picture. and a hug!"
she advanced towards me, looking for her hug i suppose. oh HELL no.
"uh, maybe we can do the picture and hug some other time?"
"NO! as soon as i find someone to take this picture.." the street was dead empty. and i doubted highly she could convince anyone to take a picture, much less come within 5 feet of her.
she whipped out her cd and sharpie.
"give me an autograph then!"
i looked at her like she had damn near lost her mind.
"you know i can't write, right?"
"of course you can! how else do you write all those wonderful songs?"
i was wasting time here. i was supposed to be meeting cookie at the park right now.
"here. i can prove i'm not matt."
i lifted my shirt (she turned bright red at this point, obviously not expecting partial nudity!!) and popped open my chest plate.
"see?" i gestured at my guts.
her eyes got so big, i was surprised they didn't pop clean out of her skull. she backed away from me slowly, obviously not sure what to do next. she started making a number of squeaks, and then let out with the most ear splitting scream yet, dropping her cd in her haste and running high speed as far away from me as she was able to.

good. get a little exercise while you're at it.
"have a nice day!"
i put myself back together and continued on my way to the park.
hopefully she doesn't call the cops, but then again, she spends a lot of time in our yard...
who would believe her anyway?

i managed to make it to 3000! holy shit. 3000 people have read this stupid blog. wow.
i almost feel humble... or something.
i have a lot of backlog to add to this thing, but i have to admit i've been busier than a fucking cat in a blender.
but i will definately get something up soon.
in other thoughts, i managed to get all the found magazines, and now i can enjoy my vicarious pleasures in private. i even found some letters to submit. it's nice to think that i can in some small way contribute to the cause.
i also decided to indulge my... whims a bit more and bought a whole shitload of 80s music- duran duran (i could no longer resist), gary neuman, some more depeche mode (i love my mode. :D ) and even some bowie!
so i'm gonna be rockin my non-existant ass off shortly!
oh i can't wait to get my neuman cd...

i've been trying to push white rose movement on people because i seriously like this band. i want them to make it out of europe so badly it drives me crazy.
i especially can't wait for the new album they're working on to come out. i guess in leiu of having time for an actual hobby i just fall back on wasting time and money furthering my music collection.
i know what you're thinking- why the fuck do you buy cds, right?
i just like having the whole package and the backup in case i lose all my digital files. it happens. that and there's just somethign about holding somethign real in your hands and knowing it's yours.
unfortunately it is rapidly eating up room. oh well. lol

i went to another party with mr. cookie. that didn't end up as well as i had hoped it would- we went to a dingy little flat where the walls were streaked in all manner of colours and the place was a total fucking dump. trash covered the floors and crowded up in the corners. there was more outside too. i immediately regretted coming as soon as i saw the place, but when you're already there, what good does it do to back out?
but i decided to try it out and floated around talking to the other people, but when i saw my host i stopped in shock. the dude was dirty. seriously yo. but i decided to be nice and make conversation about his hair, which was dyed kool aid purple and turquoise and held up stiff above his head.
"what did you use on your hair, glue, wax, hairspray?"
"nope, it's pure hair grease. i haven't washed my hair in more than a month."
this was beyond my range of experience. ew. but i was rather curious...
"do you want to touch it?"
frankly, no. but my curiosity outweighed my disgust.
i reached hesitantly out and grabbed a little chunk and rolled it between my fingers. it was suprisingly not greasy and quite soft.
i did my best not to wipe my fingers off on my pants. my body had a date with a bleach bottle as it was.
thankfully we left soon after, but i definately will think twice before i go to that house again.
i'm cringing thinking about it even now.

but at least i made it out of the house. can't complain about that. :)

i woke up this morning wrapped in christmas lights.

at some point in the night i had passed out on the couch, and upon being poked back out of sleep mode, found myself "decorated" for the season, christmas lights plugged into the jack behind my ear, a red christmas ball hung off my lip ring. lights were wrapped around my arms and really anything free. some manner of garland had been placed on me. matt had brought me out of sleep mode to appreciate his handywork. yay.

i have to admit often as not if i go into sleep mode i'm going to stay there unless i have some pressing business. snow is no fun to go out in when i really shouldn't be getting... wet. no good for the electronics.

christmas is a rough time to be a robot. seeing my many robo breathren sold by the wholesale into the... well basically the dumpster, as we all know that these fucking plastic toys break like soon after you touch them. a pointless endevour, yet even i own toys. i just don't really play with them. it's more the point than the funtion if i had to guess.

i don't know what's worse, the endless rounds of stress over getting justtherightthing or opting out completely and getting a gift card? or being a robot and the whole christmas thing being completely moot because i don't really have a reason to celebrate. i don't even have a religious obligation to fulfill. or maybe my inner torment at the season comes from the endless volleys of basically the same dozen or so songs blared in various ever-increasingly BAD mutations.

if i must go to the store i do so with mp3 player in tow.

but unfortunately even i must shop. dodging the sweaty blood crazed masses, there eyes bloodshot and bugged from early mornings and far too much sugar and caffiene, done up in tacky finery and stress. right.

so i dragged myself out to beg supplicant to he-who-controls-the finaces. i begged down on my knees with my fingertips touching the floor in front of me and implored in his awe-inspiring wisdom, sexyness and just all around awesomeness like some religious supplicant in a shinto shire or something that he bestow upon me some mere pittance- perhaps 50 quid? that i may drag my misery out and buy some yuletide charm for those i felt worthy of such bestowal. perhaps even his own gift may be added in this pile of yule.

he thought on it a second (in fact we were sitting at the kitchen table and i believe he may have been drinking... tea), and bestowed upon me the blessing of 100. perhaps he was feeling christmas-y. perhaps he was hoping i would come through for once and get him something appropriately awesome. who the fuck knows?

point is, once again i was trolling my favorite junk shops for something "worth it". you know what i mean- there are many fun and interesting things in the junk shops, random boxed mixes of seashells, buttons, all manner of clothing (depending on the age group you're catering to- now it seems to be late twenties where once it was granny lol), household ephemera of indeterminate age, mix matched shoes, and of course, no shop is complete without the PURVEYOR. the purveyor is usual someone as eclectic as the mix of one-time trash that now clutters the space, be it male or female, gay, straight or morrissey (or for those of you who don't know, asexual). my neighbourhood contains several of such places and i frequently must troll to find gifts and clothing. i am recognised.

but not in the way you'd think. lol

i'm just that oddball. that is somehow odder than the other oddballs that, like me, are just as happy with pre-loved, pre-broken in items.

on a side note, amazon also indulges my love for the pre-loved, just when it's too hare to find locally. every day is christmas!

and christmas shopping in a junk shop is ace. all the best of the bizzare is out for your pleasure. the shiniest seashells and buttons, the most interesting antiques, the sequin-bearing clothing blasts from the window for those of us inclined in a little new year's preparing as well. or who just want to shock the comany people.

obviously not what i'min the market for- i'm in the market for... another robot.

oh yes. the indignity. well, that and other items.

through careful perusal, i found a slightly worn tour shirt of Bush (of all the bands) for Cookie boy (of all the people). that fucker spends an amazing amount of his free time laying around fried listening to bush. it was perfect.

for a secret santa bag i grabbed a great loud rainbow colored scarf. no one knows who put what in there, why not throw a little spice in the pot?

what i was really hoping for was that the toy robot i had found through earlier perusal had not been sold already. i had requested it be put aside, but you know sometimes... shit "dissappears". luck was with me and indeed- the lame little toy robot was still sitting there, barely even loved. as though thrown and buried deep in the toybox soon after opening and sold sometime recently in a recent chance to make money since junk from the 80s is recently worth something.

oh well, there loss, my new christmas present for mr. matt.

but even that did not fill up my budget. so i went and splurged and bought my self a christmas present- all manner of lame new wave. because suddenly the 80s are worth something.

someone had the nerve to steal the tombstone from the grave of the singer for joy division.
WTF?
who would do such a thing?
to any grave, not just his.


watch it be a goth.