Its 2010. The world has not yet collapsed under the weight of man’s stupidity. I think it will be saving that until at least February. I have many invoices to send. Well, 2. And I stall probably distractg myself slightly, by using PuppyBurger again (unless I change the URL to something new for this new start).
Happy new year.
The lesson leaned from school days was of hate, blame, and grudges. The fantasy of escape supports this, as the notion of best days of life takes second place to the countdown to the end, of the days and the contact with others. In the early afternoon minds wonder from recycled teaching plans, and head towards the gates, the busses home, and the fist in the face of that week’s hated favourite.
Of course, this is the best preparation possible for the office. Vacuous games continue with the politics of well dressed backstabbing and self importance.
People create societies because they want to belong. There’s strength, see, in numbers and a shared opinion that saves you from thinking for yourself.
A contact of mine, who fancies himself as a bit of a wag, created the misanthropic society. And he asked me to join.
Such an invitation created a distopia of feelings. Whilst its nice to be asked to join a group, no matter how facile the subject matter might be (or, in this case, perhaps how anti-facile since it involves avoiding the majority of the gene pool in acknowledgement of their inadequacies), extending such an openness would be missing the point. And from the very people who are supposed to embrace misanthropia.
I clearly cannot join a misanthropic society that has any members. Membership is contact, human contact, and an acceptance of value. I cannot be part of this.
In Barnsley, dogs don’t walk.
I spent yesterday lunchtime sat on a corpse, eating a period preserved in vinegar.
Its surprising that, in the time I’ve worked around the corner from the University-owned churchyard in the city of [this place], I’d not before used it as somewhere to sit. Students and staff alike were out in force, and the inhabitants had plenty of company for once. My only slight disapointment was the lack of certainty that the sandwich – purchased because the rather fine Japanese food stall had been towed away – contained free range egg mayo.
To me
To you
To me
And so on, for maybe a minute of entertainment.
I can imagine the discussion between God and the Devil over who should have the souls of the Chuckle Brothers.
To me.
To you.
To me.
And so on, until eternity is over.
London Underground Tube Diary – Going Underground’s Blog
I like the underground.
Mmm. Flickr.
Why are people so against TV?
Seriously. I know there’s a lot of crap on there, but it seems that people are happy to knock TV as being worthless, per se, where they don’t make the same generalisations about other media – films, poems, writing, and the like. Its something that has interested me for a while, and generally, I think, reflects on the part of the opinionator a lack of clear thinking. TV as a whole is no more worthless than any kind of art or story telling form.
