| it really really really could happen |
[13 Dec 2006|07:08pm] |
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[This journal is a complete work of fiction. It is merely an interpretation of what Dave Rowntree may say if he happened to have an online journal. It is part of a roleplaying game. If you don't understand that, I recommend reading the disclaimer before continuing. Links to said disclaimer are included in the link line of this journal, all posts and on the userinfo page.
They say imitation is the highest form of flattery. Keep that in mind, and we'll get along just peachy.]
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[30 Dec 2005|12:13am] |
My New Year's resolution is to do without one. Resolutions are what, after all? Quiet promises that this will be the year. I'll accomplish this one tiny thing and from there I'll achieve all my life goals in a matter of twelve neatly organised calendar months. Bollocks, I say.
That's not to say I don't believe in motivation. Back when I was an active alcoholic (since you'll always be one since the opportunity is ever-present in your system), I would ring in the new year with 'sparkling wine' or champagne and promise myself that'd be it, no more madness and excess and stupid antics that werent worth anything because I couldn't even remember them. It took me a long time to steady shaking hands and shed myself of that issue. Took me even longer to part with fags.
Maybe resolutions are like Santa Claus with a far superior half-life: our parents teach us to believe, but eventually we reach the age of cold, hard enlightenment. Santas not real, and we should formulate goals at least one day in every hundred. Now that's a goal, isn't it?
The truth is my health is at a steady plateau. I eat decently, especially since I'm a vegetarian. I like to go for jogs. My vices of drink and smoke are left in the past. I reckon my good behaviour now counteracts the bad shit from the 80s and early 90s. I don't want ot live forever since everything would get bloody boring and repetitive, plus music will go down the tubes sooner or later. I'll settle for making it to a hundred.
Actually, can all of this. My New Year's resolution is to be king.
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[21 Nov 2005|08:32pm] |
Sometimes, when you've known someone long enough, you make your way past the point where you really need words to communicate. All you need is a look, some waggled eyebrows and perhaps a devilish grin to get your point across. Unfortunately, that line was crossed about a decade ago, and I still kept blathering. I suppose that means I will always have to.
So, here is my point: Steven Alexander James is mad. Absolutely, raving mad.
I mean, what kind of rational human being would ever want to be stuck in a band so long with the likes of me? Seriously? And what self-respecting ladies' man would go on to have a bouncing baby boy a decade later? Who on this planet could possibly enjoy that science rubbish anyway?
So, Alex inches closer to forty. I'll be waiting at the finish line with a cake and some rather flattering balloons. We've seen the highs and the lows together. Hell, I think we've nearly killed each other before. I think I must've dedicated thousands of words to him in the past segment of my life. It's accumulated into quite the large fraction of my life. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Happy birthday, Alex. Never try that champagne thing again, all right?
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[15 Nov 2005|02:47am] |
Do you ever stare up at the sky at night and wonder what it is you don't see? For me, about all I can make out is a mirky, dark cloak over the city. You can't even call the colour black because light pollution will never allow it to be that pure. Instead it reminds me of that ugly attempt during childhood to make black out of every paint you have. So you splash down your red and your yellow and your blue and your green and so on, and you rub them all together frantically. Well, no, that's not making black, it's brown. Okay, time for some more blue and red since they're darker colours. That'll help, right? You keep going and going, but eventually you're just wasting your time since it's not going to happen. The combination of all colours is white, and the absence of colour is black. Silly children, right?
But the sky should be black, and the stars should have colour. Instead we have off-black and whitish specks, if that. Red giants look just the same as planets in many instances. You couldn't really pick Jupiter out just by looking up any easier than you'd be able to tell me why you think Pluto should be considered a planet. If you want to know where I stand on the matter, I think that it's been called that for so long that to bunk it down a rank would just be cruel and unusual punishment for the large-planet-like-mass and students who learned about My Very Eager Mum Just Served Us Nine Pies or whatever means necessary to memorise the planets, but that is neither here nor there. I think it's very important for us to look up there just so that we can wish that we could see it a little clearer. At least then we have an idea of how tiny we are and what it means to be made of carbon and other little sticky things.
Just so you know, lifeforms from planets unknown have to exist. Take a look at any of the tab rags or newspapers and try to convince me otherwise. Mind that I didn't say anything about the intelligence of said lifeforms.
Today I picked up The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell. You won't find most people reading this work over Animal Farm or 1984, mainly because this is a non-fiction work. If you're ever feeling low on yourself, I encourage you to pick it up and just read a bit about the coal miners of yore. It'll make you either depressed for the former conditions of England or better about yourself. I found a quote in the midst of this work (purchased for only a quid at some shabby hideaway bookstore a couple of years ago and collecting dust in a corner until this very week) that I would like to share with you. May you enjoy it and derive more inspiration from Orwell than myself. After all, the man was paid for this sort of rubbish.
I am a degenerate modern semi-intellectual who would die if I did not get my early morning cup of tea and my New Statesman every Friday. Clearly I do not, in a sense, 'want' to return to a simpler, harder, probably agricultural way of life. In the same sense I don't 'want' to cut down my drinking, to pay my debts, to take enough exercise, to be faithful to my wife, etc., etc.
I've been fighting with my email provider, and now I'm just going to have to do a bit of a switch over. Bear with me here. Rowntreester@gmail.com. Can you believe that? Yeah, me either, but apparently someone else was witty enough to take emperordave. I don't know if I should be annoyed or chuffed.
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[05 Oct 2005|08:28pm] |
Kate Winslet, you are an inspiration, a muse among mere mortals. When I think about drawing anything, I harken back to that time you stretched out on my couch wearing the prized necklace your other suitor gave you. Bastard. Little did the sucker know what was going on behind closed vehicular doors...
Wait, that was a movie. But still, you're 30 now, and you're just as smashing as ever.
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| reintroduction |
[09 Sep 2005|01:03am] |
Every day, I wake up with a little more stiffness than the day before. It's difficult for me to remember a time when I passed a morning without my neck or spine singing the protest of the positions I'd found for approximately eight hours of 'healthy' sleep. Some days there will be a heaviness in my bones, the physical embodiment of thunder before lightning, and I know that it's bound to rain.
I go for a run in the mornings. Well, I like to call it a run, anyway. Most of the time it alternates between sprints and my sorry excuse for Power Walking. I always assumed that the pedestrian was supposed to be meek and complacent, so I am of the opinion that the walk is not meant to hold such great power. I prefer to disguise my reserves, cheers. One never knows when one will be attacked by a dog on a jaunt out, and trust me, one wants to be prepared to get one's arse out of such a situation as fast as possible. When I was twenty, chances are I would've tried to get into a fistfight with Fido. Oh, how times have changed.
You spend your twenties doing your best to make sure that you're not going to live to see your thirties. Your thirties can be a gigantic panic attack over wasting your twenties and the impending doom that is your forties. Once you're at forty, however, you've got a lot ahead of you. The aches and pains are just side effects you probably would've felt earlier on had you not been so pissed, and if you hadn't been so pissed, chances are you wouldn't have to endure such weird pains in areas you didn't know felt such things at random hours of the night. The aches, the fight to have energy, the hot flashes and night sweats...I think they're ultimately worth their weight in gold. At my age, I'm more than well aware that I'm mortal, but there's never a day that I can forget that. And because of that, I have a profound appreciation for everything around me.
I want to come to appreciate all of you again. Catch me up on things, would you?
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[07 Sep 2005|04:54pm] |
Give me a break. A man's allowed to have a midlife crisis at least once.
Now let me have a little while to regain my bearing, slip on over to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.2) enter_mbp and make this world a better place.
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[08 May 2005|11:15pm] |
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It just figures that my birthday would fall on Mother's Day. Ha ha!
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[28 Apr 2005|05:05am] |
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This is a Public Service Announcement to let the world know that Tim Wheeler is taken by yours truly. Haven't I mentioned this already? Oh well. It bears repeating. Cheers.
I considered doing a marquee for that, but I figured that me updating already is enough to induce heart attacks. The scrolling text may kill a bloke outright. How terrible of me.
So I've been getting my affairs in order before the trip to the Big Apple. Packing the bags, making travel arrangements, cleaning out the fridge, putting the final touches on my will...hell, you're all more than aware of how these sorts of things go. It's kind of exciting, but at the same time, it's such a new experience for me. If more people recognised me, then I'm certain I would be cringing over my work with Blur compromising my budding career as a serious, peverse cartoonist. Actually, I'm surprised to be taken seriously at all with this project. Have you watched it yet? You know I'm a vast well of self promotion.
My wife is coming with me for what can be primarily considered a business trip. The neighbours have been informed of the Rowntree vacancy, so the cats will receive all of the proper nourishment. This means that Mojo will weigh a grand two stone by the time I get back. That cat is starting to get a little on the hefty side. One day, we left her in the laundry basket. Obviously wet clothes appeal to her, I don't know. Anyhow, she somehow got shoved into the dryer. Imagine the terror of hearing "TH..TH...THUD ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH TH...TH.....THUD RAHHHHHHHH!" She was extremely fluffy after she got out of there. It'll be nice to have a little time with the wife and no cat antics. I love my cats and all, but sometimes you just need to be alone with someone without hearing the shriek of the feline. Plus with my birthday coming up, I expect extra benefits. I'll leave you to ponder that.
A closing PSA: Charlotte Hatherley is a (somewhat) friendly zombie. Think Casper only with a solid form and a craving for brains. Obviously I am corrupting Ash one member at a time.
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| Empire Sq. overload |
[20 Apr 2005|11:37pm] |
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I am blushing redder than you can imagine, I assure you. I honestly had no idea I was teetering that close to the edge, and here I went and fell off the cliff completely. I'd apologise profusely, but no amount can really convey how embarrassed I am. On with the update.
I've actually been very busy with Empire Sq. I know I've pimped it a few times here and there, but we're actually going to the Tribeca Film Festival in New York. This is a bit of shameless self promotion, so if you don't want to listen to it, you can just skim on by. We're going to be having a half hour episode of Empire Sq. there, so if you want to witness my insanity for more than a couple of minutes at a time, you're welcome to fry your brain for a bit. 29 April is when you can catch it. Midnight, so technically it's the 30th. I don't question these people. They're obviously out of their minds to let my cartoon premiere in the U.S. to begin with. This is really a clever ploy to lure me to the States so they can arrest me and stone me to death in the very uncomfortable, painful, pointy-thing sort of way. They're probably very upset over my "tribute to Ronald Reagan." Whoopsie?
Other Empire Sq. related rubbish: We've a DVD coming out 2 May. Yes, it's an early birthday gift for me. That means you should all buy it. Love it. Cherish it always. In the meantime, play the Empire Sq. game! Empire Sq. sex game. Yes, bang a chick next to a dumpster. You can go in, go out, slap the fat, up the gary and dogbowl her. If that isn't entertainment, I don't know what is.
Check this space soon for something of substance. In the meantime, I'm just trying to say that I'm around and I am sorry.
( And a little of []s... )
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| my journal must get out of read only mode |
[08 Mar 2005|09:53pm] |
Lately I've been playing with my drum machine. I think it's blasphemy when you're a young drummer to possess such an item. It's like how you can't have a calculator when you're learning your math. Such an easy way out, and then you supposedly never learn. More than that, there's the pride of the mighty drummer. No people want to think that they can be replaced by technology. It takes a little bit of the flare out of your work when you know that a little box can do it with far less energy and a shorter list of demands. Once you can come to terms with the technology, then you can embrace it. I've been having fun making ridiculous beats that my arms would not be able to handle. Exciting, no?
Everybody seems to be having issues lately. I'm not sure what I can blame it on to explain away the not-so-sudden rush of miserable posts on my friends list, but for the record, I'm going to say that it's winter. Cold temperatures and a lack of adequate sunlight. You know, we can dish out pills for everything from a sniffle to a little bugger running around in your body causing hell, but we'll always have a time during which we're subjected to the whims of Mother Nature. Even in the city, there's always the price we have to pay for being people. I just wanted you people to know that my thoughts are with you, and you should pester me to get on AIM because I often forget to do so. A word of caution: I give into abuse rather easily.
My sister Sarah is subject to the whims of winter more than I, so she came round the other day because there is nothing better to cheer her up than the bright, witty conversation shared with her beloved little brother. Actually I think she told me why she was visiting, but I was too busy playing with some gadget to really listen. The sentence lacked "Dave" in there, so it didn't really catch my attention. We have an interesting dynamic. She'll mope around like a forlorn teenager, and I'll rush off to find my toys to share with her. Some might call it regression, but the truth is we've never moved too far forward from that. I always run to catch all of my cats and line them up so she can examine them, but usually one starts to creep away if I take too long hunting down the rest. Mojo is the notable exception because she loves the attention and is a little heavier than the rest. I think she's starting to develop a diva complex. She even sprawls out like she thinks she deserves to be on the front cover of a magazine. I share all of these thoughts off the top of my head with Sarah, and she just raises an eyebrow at me and asks if I've fallen off the wagon. I always have to assure her that if I did any falling, I probably landed on my head and that's all there is to it. I for one cannot wait to make the transition from eccentric to senile.
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[30 Jan 2005|07:28pm] |
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How many things can you say that you've done for a year? Five years? A decade? Even longer? I think that as time adds up, things become easily viewed as fractions of your life. Not only can it be viewed in a unit, but it also becomes this chunk of your history, forever etched in a significant amount of your brain because of all of the memories associated with the thing. It's amazing to me that in this modern, advancing, improving, destroying world, anything can last.
I was thinking last night about time a lot. You know, this year marks my tenth wedding anniversary. That's one-fourth of my life, twenty-five percent, spent sharing this house, this bed, officially. If you figure in our dating, then that just boosts the number even more. I think there's something more finite about the marriage deal though. You can break up every other day and still retain that flexibility in the relationship, but a marriage isn't quite that elastic. When there's a falling out, it isn't suddenly like your row is a subtle thing. It means one step along the way that could jeopardise everything that you stood for when you said 'til death' in your vows. The divorce rate is roughly fifty percent. If you ever forget that statistic, just look at Britney Spears.
Ten years ago, I could barely tolerate myself and a lot of the people I knew. I was a cranky, bitterly sober, thirty-year-old. And I was loved. It sounds almost fairy tale in my head now that I think back on it. Okay, fine, make that an insane film rather than a fairy tale. Boy meets girl. Boy likes girl. Boy finds out that girl is from across the ocean. Boy cons girl to come across the ocean for him. Boy proposes to girl. Girl actually says yes. Boy indulges self and gets a communication system installed in the house. Girl doesn't mind.
A few mates of mine have been getting married recently. Some people do it so spur of the moment and realise that they're probably making a mistake but go through with it anyway because hey, when are they going to wear those hideous dresses again and the deposit's already been made. Most of the people I know have a good deal of rationality and, above that, love. It warms my heart to know that the institution isn't dead and that ring swapping isn't just as cliche as giving your girl your pin. So many people shrug off that old image of the elderly rocking in their chairs, sipping at their tea and growling at the stupid youth on the telly. Okay, fine, I already do that, but I'm not old yet. Not by a long shot. And at first I was just as scared as anyone else about things falling apart as they always did before. Now I know that no matter what, I can smile and say that I firmly believe in the existence and realisation of love. If someone can spend a decade as a newly-inducted Rowntree and not end up strangling me, then there's got to be love or a significant amount of restraints involved. I prefer that it be the former.
No matter how far along we've gone, we haven't perfected the art of time travel. We can only go backwards in our memories or by looking at or watching relics, and we can only speculate about what's going to happen in the future. Right now, I think it's safe to say that I'm going to have many anniversaries in the future, including the tenth one coming up in the summer. If I can make it, any of your can. Just follow the Dave Rowntree plan.
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| I think Tim Wheeler is forming a brothel, but that's just me |
[20 Jan 2005|05:57pm] |
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I've been hearing a lot of complaining about winter weather from random people stuck in snowy areas. Quite frankly, I don't know why you're whining about it. To me, snow is the great equaliser. If you're in a hurry, you can just bloody well forget about that. If you're walking, you have to trudge over the banks of snow, piles of ice or muddy sludge. Your usual path is an obstacle course that you must overcome. Who needs conventional exercise when you have this convenient excuse to exert yourself? Bikers take their lives into their own hands because any swerve around a walker could result in a painful spill. That or they land in the snow, which would just look ace anyway. Cars have to slow down. It's all just at a steady flow. Everyone's on the same level no matter the schedule. How serene and entirely maddening.
Of course, I'm saying all of this because I don't have to endure it. It's just rainy here right now, don't you know. Kate Winslet is just going to kill me if I don't update, and I tend to avoid death if at all possible.
So today is apparently an important political occasion in the States. It takes me back to my early 20s and my protesting years. Oh how the rallies and such amuse me now. Still, there has to be free speech as long as there's rationality involved. I think that's rare in general these days. That's all I have to say about that one.
I feel like doing something interesting. Maybe it's about time I took my wife out for a random night on the town. That's usually a Friday or Saturday night sort of thing, but on a Thursday it could be a bit more amusing. The crowd changes; the element is completely different. I wonder if the soup selection is vegetarian friendly on Thursdays. I never cared to check before. Hmm, something to ponder.
Oh, and on a geeky note: Titan's rocks are rounded, which suggests that there is weathering on the surface. In case you didn't know, Titan is a moon. For what planet, you ask? You've got to figure that one out on your own. Weathering means either the presense of an atmosphere or a body of water. They're thinking that it means there either is or was water on Titan. Water is important because it can signify life. Wouldn't it be great to discover life not on another planet but on a moon? We need a sci-fi movie about this right now. I demand it. In the meantime, it's back to watching Shaun of the Dead. I only mention zombie movies so Charlotte Hatherley will pay attention.
Wow, this really jumped all over the place. I apologise for anyone's brains exploiding in the midst of reading that. Hopefully the next one is a little smoother. Keep in mind that 'hopefully' is the operative word.
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[08 Jan 2005|04:14am] |
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For Christmas, I got a beautiful woman, many loving (if aloof) cats and a sparkling aeroplane. No, wait, I already had those things. By the time you reach my ripe old age of 40, what you gain during the holidays is not a material possession. Actually, you receive loads of those, and I'd be lying through my teeth (or fingers, as it were) if I told you that all presents tapered off entirely or just plain sucked after Year Z. Instead I'm going to pretend to be wise beyond my years (because 40 is not a respectable IQ by any means) and say that the card or tag begins to bear more emotional weight. Being remembered and thought of is such a wonder anymore in such a gimpy world. Plus hell, once you know someone for so long, you have to wonder what to get them anymore. Most things in your life are a gift if you really think about it. If you didn't get it for yourself, then someone purchased it for you or agreed to something.
New Year's was comfortable. I remember when New Year's would not be remembered and the glee of the cork flying from the first of many bottles of champagne. Now I get to peel the foil from the top of a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Unlike champagne, I can have as many bottles of grape juice as I want without vomiting or passing out. Alright, unless I have a hell of a lot of grape juice. Thankfully I have learned to become a man of moderation, and so I made it to midnight and 2005 without the need for a good old stomach pumping or any such thing. I feel refreshed and calm. Settled and sorted. Comfortably well off with the rest of the world to worry me rather than my own situation.
In other news, I'm late with a birthday and need to be slapped or shaven or a combination of both. Slapped with a razor? Ouch. So to my dearest Judy, fruit of my loins only not really, happy belated birthday. I'm sure you spent it well and enjoyed yourself immensely, but accept my wishes regardless. Or I'll cry. It's really rather pathetic, so you don't want to see that happen.
In other other news, I cannot hide my true self any longer. I am married to Timmy Wheeler, and our heterosexual fronts are just to divert the attention of the media. I hope you can accept us as we are and support us while I act as his Southern belle geisha.
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[24 Dec 2004|01:55am] |
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Please, please don't kill me! I usually don't buy into memes and all of that, but this is short and kind of intriguing.
1. Reply with your name, and I'll tell you what I think of you. Promise. Really. Masochism at its purest here.
2. I will then tell you what song(s) remind me of you. Probably one since I'm lazy, but hey, you never know.
3. I will try to name a single word that best describes you. Even if the word has twenty hyphens, it'll be one word.
4. I'm sorry that I gave into the pressure of everyone else's #4. It's like an STD.
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| bollocks, blimey and buggery |
[21 Dec 2004|02:10am] |
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Seasons greetings, friends both digital and otherwise! Though I am neither round nor covered in white hair (yet), I would like to play Santa. Here is a bundle of gifts for some select special folks on my friends page. If I somehow overlooked you and you DEMAND a gift, just leave a little comment and I'll find something nice and pretty for you. Promise. In the meantime, check out the other gifts so hopefully no one gets what you wanted.
This is in alphabetical order according to username past or present because I'm clearing out my friends list and will have to go from that page. Too many dead people have me friended. Oh the humanity.
Alex James - It's hard to upstage getting you your own planet, but I tried anyway.
Amanda Latona - Did you ever think you'd find this in your stocking?
Angelina Jolie - Why not?
Chris Martin - It spins, so obviously that means it's like the globe.
Claire Neate - I hope your husband doesn't want to borrow your gift too often.
Cornflake - *pets*
Damon Albarn - Enjoy! Okay, I kid. Ta da!
Ewan McGregor - I hope you get good use out of it.
Graham Coxon - There are no words.
Jamie Hewlett - I know it's not a friendship band, but hopefully it'll do.
Jarvis Cocker - Tres sexy.
Jonny Lee Miller - How'sh that, Jonneh?
Justine Frischmann - I thought it was clever.
Kate Moss - A little something to model for Jonny.
Karen Elson - Contents included!
Kate Winslet - Yeah, I don't know either.
Kelly MacDonald - Treat it kindly.
Leigh Littrell - *moan* Isn't that enough?
Suzi Winstanley - There you go.
That's about it, I think. I'm exhausted, as is my bank account. Like I said, comment if I fucked up.
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| birthday delight |
[21 Nov 2004|02:37am] |
I figure this is past midnight, so it definitely counts. Anyhoo...
Jonny Lee Miller
Jawnee, u r mhi fathur. Eet ees troo. Een fakt, Eye whill ryte thees messuj een tha nayteev langoowidge 2 mayk eet mwhore purrsunul. Eye ahm saree thys ees saho deeleighd, butt Eye ahm sloh. Pleez aksept mhi mohst sinseer apalogee. U r ah vehree yooneeq indeeveedyooul. Eye admhir ywhore abilutee 2 b saho adapteev ihn saho menee sityooehshuns. Eye ho'-p ywhore burthdeh wuz wunderus.
Alex
I had to look back at my entry for this time last year to make sure I didn't repeat myself. Chances are I'll repeat myself anyway, but give me a break.
How many birthdays can you celebrate with one person before you get completely sick of them? Obviously the answer is over fifteen when it comes to you. I hope you don't cry over gaining another year this time because that was quite a sad display. Trust me, turning forty isn't so bad, so you don't have to worry yet. Besides, you've got a child now. Isn't it crazy to think about turning a year older with that kid there to celebrate with you? I'll bet you've gotten him an adorable little crown to wear that matches one for yourself. If you haven't, then I'll have to rush out in a few hours to pick those up because they just seem essential. At least it's that way in my warped mind.
I've seen you go through so much, and I think it's funny that at first we were just acquaintances because of music rather than actually enjoying each other's company. I don't think I would've believed you back then if you had told me that we would've become such close mates. I'm glad to prove myself wrong. I was a moron, you know.
I got you this for your birthday. I hope you like it!
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| notquitewinslet: 'he should have 2342 comments!' |
[25 Oct 2004|05:57am] |
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Have I mentioned recently enough how fantastic my wife is? My wife is fantastic. I've been home more than usual due to not too much work to sweat over, so we've just been enjoying ourselves. Sometimes it makes me feel like an old man, but if that's what old men do, then let me rest my weary bones for a tic.
We've got rocking chairs indoors. Most people have them out on a porch so they can look out on the beautiful world as it passes them by. We prefer being indoors and seeing the life we've made together. It's not particularly entertaining for anyone else but us. I don't think they'd like to stare at my walls and talk about what happened during the day that happened to be fascinating enough to make the walls interesting. To me, however, they hold so many memories, and I'm not just referring to the numerous cameras hidden within their surfaces. I'm all about reminiscing. "Remember that time when...?" and "Wasn't it great that one time...?" are the staples of my vocabulary. Making memories and sharing them, now that's paradise.
The cats have gotten very used to the routine. Paola cooks a very nice meal first of all. From Mexican to potatoes and everything in between, she can handle it. Even Chinese take away isn't beyond her masterful cooking skills. Mojo, Muppet and Chevy all like to crowd under the table and beg for scraps. Actually, Mojo's a bit too hefty for mere begging. She just sits on your foot, and if you want to regain circulation, you'd best hand over a bit of pita. I think she'd like it a whole lot better if I weren't a vegetarian, but that's just the fate she's had to suffer over the years from having me as her master. Besides, Paola's been able to handle it, and she has decidedly more to say about it. She generally eats what I do, and the cats get their own whateverthehellthatfishshapedthingis food.
I cannot fucking believe that Halloween is this weekend. I think once you travel the world you become more aware of holidays and their celebrations round the globe. I like to laugh about the Halloween buzz in America because it's all so silly. I'm glad we're not that demented here...yet. The one good thing that comes out of all this mess is the numerous repetitions of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. You know, there's really nothing quite like sneaking up to your wife in the wee hours of the night and then bellowing serenely singing, "I've got one thing to say and that's dammit, Janet, I love you!" The initial shock might just be from me singing to a Janet, but now I've got her trained to go, "Ohhhhhhhhhh Braaaaaaaaaaaad!" We may or may not Time Warp when no one's looking. Isn't it fucking insane how that thing is still such a cult classic? I don't think it'll ever die. Then again, it gives us all something to laugh at. Cult classics just aren't the same these days. Give me my Monty Python any day, cheers.
I'm becoming quite the insomniac. Sleep? What's sleep? I used to have the most severe insomnia imaginable when I was an alcoholic. The earliest I would ever nod off was at three in the morning, and that was when I had the hum of the television to lull me to sleep. Maybe it's just me getting antsy. Whatever. At least it gives me more time to think up even more perverse, wrong things to put in my cartoon. Kate Winslet hasn't watched it yet, so she said I should include a link in here. You should all watch Empire Square. What can you expect from this? How about crucifixion, cooked cocks, shaved monkeys on eBay and Ronald Reagan just to name a few! Yes, I realise by now that I am most definitely going to hell.
This is insanely disjointed. Are you still reading? If so, I'm sorry. My internet disconnected while I was typing this up. I'll sign off by leaving you with my rage.
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[05 Oct 2004|05:33pm] |
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Happy birthday, Kate! I think you're ace. I will have a movie marathon of yours today and weep over you in Quills. At least you live until a ripe old age in Titantic, eh?
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