a Neonmeatdream

This week you might…?
Begin your life anew for the last time. You will not take it a day at a time but a decade, in one leap of magnificent fore-thought and inspiration your path will be set and journey started.
You will eat properly and at the right times, making amends for previously apathetic meals.
Your house will be picturesque and perfect, book shelf stacked rightfully, occupied by those who previously slept on the floor and by those who have been lost in hiding. Cd’s will find their soul mates in the right cases and clothes will be ironed, folded, and stacked by type, colour, size and popularity.
Exercise. You will not forget to stretch or warm down. And be better for it.
Stop lying and tell the truth to everyone, make life harder for yourself.
Girls/boys will not be a distraction; sex shall be an afterthought of a loving relationship with your grow-old-life-partner. Together you will make love and stop fucking.
You will mow the lawn, and kill weeds and probably lay a patio.
Cash money will be under adult supervision in case the pennies neglect the pounds.
Inside?
Outside?
A new life?

So, I have a theory that everyone barring mental illness, knows their own level of physical attractiveness compared to others.

It annoys me when obviously beautiful women moan that they are ugly or fat when they are clearly gorgeous, all it takes is one look in a mirror and they'd know, no doubt they do already.

Sometimes if I meet a friend of a friend who's a girl and I comment that she's a bit of an uggo then i get berrated with 'she's beautiful, she's really pretty!' and accused of being spiteful or mean. This when my friend blatantly knows her new acquantance is rough.

Alot of men also claim to not be able to judge physical attractiveness in other men which is rubbish in my opinion. It's not hard to tell, it's just most men in my opinion think that admitting to this is 'gay'.

I believe this is something innate that we all have, as soon as we look at a face we start judging it.
There have been studies(this is from research I looked at while studying psychology at A-level so it's hardly conclusive!) that support the idea that we are attracted to faces that are the same level of attractiveness as our own.

Also there is an idea in similar that someone who is really goodlooking might be attracted to someone who is really intelligent as it creates a balance, for instance Arthur Miller and Marilyn Monroe.

Thoughts?

Today while getting my daily dose of wikipedia I've been learning about Native American Indians.

In particular Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull. One aspect of the culture I find fascinating is the way they are named and the names they give each other.

It seems that at birth you were given a name and then as your life progressed you would take on a new name of you own choosing or one your peers would give you one. For instance Sitting Bull at birth was named 'Jumping Badger' but later was named 'Sitting Bull' after his Father whose name then became Jumping Bull.

Some of the other ones I liked were:
For females: 'they are afraid of her', 'looks at it', 'Good voice woman', 'kills Enemy', 'red Leggins'
For Males: 'Worm', 'Slow', 'Stands Up for Him', 'Iron between Horns', 'Conquering Bear'

Although I'm sure alot of what they are meant to mean is lost in translation i still like them.

Wouldn't it be good if we all had names that reflected our characteristics or would that be terrible?

What would your native american name be?

When someone leaves a comment on one of my posts i used to get a email notification telling me what post it was on and who left it.

That seems to have stopped as today i discovered comments on my most recent post that I hadn't been notified of by email.

Is anyone else noticing this or am I just being an idiot and not keeping up to date with the latest news etc?!

… drinking.
Tonight in honour of an old friends’ 23rd birthday. Like I need an excuse.

The flatmate who has money and I arrive at the bar early and began the nights liquid intake.
Two or three jars later birthday girl arrives with a throng of lovely ladies, some lovelier than others.

Two more beers. Cigarette. Double Sambuca. Next Bar.
A bar that pretends to be a club that is. Particularly badly at that.

The DJ is playing the Grease soundtrack and we wonder where we went wrong.
More double sambucas anyone?
Of course, but never again. Or maybe just a little one later.
Did someone mention little ones? Howsabout 3 for a tenner?
No change for £20, we’ll just take six.
A dry swallow while we wait for more liquid nourishment at an increasingly busy and sweaty bar.

By now 45 year old DJ has moved on to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack and to my horror my legs have begun jittering uncontrollably and my head nods me on to the dance floor where I caper and jive next to other similarly capering and jiving people.
This lady looks interested…
Am I?
Not really, but the amount of alcohol and supposed ecstasy in my system convinces me I am, and before Flatmate can save me from myself the move has been made and
me and said lucky lady are grinding away like we’re in a Snoop Dogg music video.

Cigarette. Cigarette. A another dry swallow. Drain the dregs from that last Kronenbourg. Pile into taxi. Back to birthday girls to continue the party.

Somehow my previous dancing partner manages to stowaway unnoticed and is there to greet me at the house and attaches herself.

Jazz cigarettes all round.
White lines. You know the song.

Two hours later, me and my new consort of sorts decide to sojourn to my house for a more intimate party of our own.
An unspecified time later.
I’m drifting into a drug induced dreamless coma/sleep wishing this random would stop taking all the space in my bed, get out and go home.

Awakened at 12pm the next day by Flatmate just returning from Birthday girls house still walking white lines and climbing up the walls.
Last nights catch and I take the time to get to know each other a little better by having some slightly more awkward than last night but slightly more gratifying sex.
I make some tea and endure her for another couple of hours while we get stoned and she watches ‘Shipwrecked 08’.

My mind was made up then that I would never speak to this girl again.

A taxi is called and I collapse on the sofa and spend the rest of the day watching Flatmate send forth exclamations of drivel and dribble about god knows what ‘til we both finally succumbs to sleep deprivation and cannabis intake.

The Road

I am broken like a wave

One word you’ve spoken
And I’m awake

Here is a token
Of that day

From that land
From whence we came

Familiar streets that now are foreign
And the road is grey with dirt and ash again

Why wait

To ponder on
The simple thing
That I have become

It is forgotten
For a duration

For a while
It shall remain

Though a loss
It is emancipation
It is a freedom all the same

I hate this cunting Government.

Mr Brown needs a fucking slap in the face.

I was under the impression that New Labour wanted to close the gap between rich and poor.

So that must be why he's scrapped the lowest 10% tax band and changed it to 20%!

Now alot of 'middle earners' are not affected by this. As previously they were paying a rate of 22%, so they are better off paying the flat 20% rate.

If like me however, you earn a mother fucking pittance, then you'll find that you are basically paying double the amount of tax you paid before!

So the poorest workers are now taxed even more money! Cleaners, part-time workers, convenience store staff, street sweepers are all paying for the middle classes to have a fucking tax cut.

I wonder why that is?

It's because The Arch Deciever Brown is now so power hungry he has abandoned any principles he may have had about creating a more equal society and is giving the rich guys a break so they'll vote him back in next election.

We all know Labour is no longer a leftist party, they are only interested in remaining in Office.

If they don't go they shall have to be forcibly removed.

God I hate this face book myspace shit!

All my friends are constantly telling me to get on myspace and facebook but it just seems like a load of waffle to me.

People just telling each other how much they 'luv' their friends and how 'ace' everything is giving each other 'hugs and kisses'. It's all a bit flakey if you ask me. Do people speak to each other like that in real life?

I bet if they actually met half these supposed 'friends' they would think they are idiots, which they undoubtedly are or they just wouldn't get on.

Most of my male friends seem to use myspace as a way to look at pretty girls and try to flirt with them. They basically spend their time going through random peoples pages just adding girls they think are attractive. I've got nothing against attractive girls, in fact I quite like them but I preferably like to see them face to face, not on some posed-cheesy-myspace pic.

I don't know maybe I'm just jealous cause no one would be my friend...cept for you losers on Blog.co.uk!(only joking luv u guys hug's an xxxx's)

At the moment I keep having really vivid dreams about an ex-girlfriend I went out with about three years ago. I haven't seen or spoke to her since we broke up.

Although it was quite a bad break up, from my persepective at least, I haven't given her a moments thought for years.

Now everytime I fall asleep she's there, these aren't dreams of a sexual nature either, lets get that straight.
It's just me and her chatting and a man who is her boyfriend hanging around in a shop we're standing outside.

I can't remember what we talk about, but I know in the dream I can feel an amazing sense of joy and rightness and love for her.

Then when i wake up i just feel gutted and depressed that it's just a dream, I literally feel sick to my stomach that she's with some other guy even though I know it's a dream and I don't even see the boyfriend really I just know he's standing near in a shop(whats that all about!?)

It is so annoying because I felt like that three years ago. Since then I've had numerous liasons, some serious and some not with other women and all that shit was long forgotten.

My mind is fucking with me. what triggers a dream lilke that?
I don't believe that dreams tell the future or any of that crap but I do think that it is your mind shuffling stuff around perhaps?
I don't know it's just fucked up the emotions and memories nightmares can drag up that can go on to affect my whole mood and outlook for the following day.

Louis Theroux makes me smile.

If anyone saw his program last night, I think you're going to have to agree with me that he is a documentarian(is that a word?)genius.

His child like and often gormless expressions just suck these idiots into a false sense of security. They seem to think they are talking to an idiot and thus carry on like idiots themselves.

Although his subject matter is usually fairly serious, I often end up laughing at the morons he speaks to.

However, what I thought was pretty disgusting about the program last night was when the hunters had killed an animal and they posed for pictures.(this isn't what I find disgusting, although it is weird!)

All the while going on about how beautiful the animal was and how amazing it looked.

NON of the hunters mentioned how beautiful the animals were when they were alive and running around all graceful and animal like.

Only when they were dead and lifeless, just another possession for these people, did they become a thing of beauty.

Wild and alive they were just another target.

One hunter mentioned the only reason he wasn't killing Rhinoes and Lions on this trip was because he couldn't afford it.

Anyway, Louis Theroux makes a really good documentary that wasn't 'Out to get' big game hunting from the start, and kept an open mind.

I have a problem with super-size fat people.

I'm not talking podgy here Im talking faaaat!

Obese is a better word.

What's with that?

Is it that hard to not eat a multi-pack of crisps every day?

I get that there are genuine medical problems that can lead to obesity(?are there?)

Eating yourself disabled is just weird, driving round on a mobility scooter because you are too fat to walk, er, if you're that fat try doing some walking and you might lose some weight!?

As piggy eyes peak out with excitement from the folds of a greasy face, and straining jossling jaws prepare to gobble up the next mouthful of slop, I have to leave, I just can't eat when there's obese people monching away next to me.

It puts me off my food.