Had that interview today. It went well. I arrived there and I went into the waiting room and there was about ten people ahead of me. It was a cattle run. There was only one person interviewing so they were really short. Just a five minute chat to make sure that you weren' t an idiot or a psycho. I think it was the manager who interviewed me. She was very nice but she looked like the classic ballbreaker business woman. I don't think I want to get on her bad side.

Anyway so she asked me what I was studying and what sort of job I was looking for. Being unemployed I wasn't feeling that picky. So she told me right then that I had the job. Working on the floor for less money than I'm used to but I don't want ot go back to my old job and this one is a lot closer to home. I nearly lost the job straight away though. She wanted me to start tomorrow but I told her that I had planned to go down to limerick for the weekend. I think she expected me to cancel but I didn't want to. After a bit of thought she decided that I could start on Tuesday.

Did you hear that, Naomi? I nearly lost my new job that I love to go to your party? Remember that.

Then I came home and had a barbecue. Tasty

Today was a good day. Had lunch with an old friend. My oldest friend, come to think of it. I have a habit of dropping acquaintances when I don't see them in a while. I think it comes from living in the back arse of nowhere. Anyway my friend and I are both into writing and we even published a few zines a couple of years back. It was strange. He was saying how he wants to write but he can't really work up the enthusiasm. I feel the same way. Although this blog has helped me to get back into the habit of writing for the sake of it. We tossed a few ideas around about using blogger to host a sort of online zine. There are many advantages to this over publishing a magazine. Something might come out of this. Watch this space.

Job interview tomorrow. I really want this job. It would set me up for the summer. Had a haircut today. It was getting out of control and I want to exude a neat young man vibe to my prospective employers, rather than hairy good for nothing arts student. Although that is a lot more accurate.

I want insomnia

It seems like every time I visit a blog someone is complaining about not being able to fall asleep. I feel left out. I sleep like a baby every night. I want some of that sweet insomnia.

That may seem odd considering I'm posting this at 1245am, but I'm not awake because I can't sleep, I'm just not allowed to yet.

This is what I sent to the editor as a writing sample:

Matrix Reloaded - Film Review

As a film that deals with the uncertainty of reality, it is fitting that Matrix Reloaded is not sure what it wants to be. While it has all the elements of a satisfying action flick – guns, martial arts, sunglasses and explosions – for some inexplicable reason it also tries to offer a philosophical treatise on the difference between free will and determinism. So if you want to enjoy some of the most outlandish action set pieces of recent memory, you’ll have to put up with some really dreadful dialogue. What should be a fast paced science fiction epic is sabotaged by characters who are content to sit around and chat about causality, choices and prophecies while doing nothing interesting whatsoever. I have no problem with dialogue but when it is so bland and so lifelessly delivered it simply reminds the audience that their time is being wasted. Particularly when much of what is said mostly repeats the information we were given in the first film. Incidentally in the original Matrix the film was kind enough to dress up necessary explanations with interesting visuals. Thankfully Matrix Reloaded isn’t all talk and no trousers as when the action does eventually kick in it is imaginative, beautifully shot and excellently choreographed. In particular the climactic freeway car chase is unlike anything that has been seen before. It’s genuinely gobsmacking.

Ultimately though this film was a savage disappointment, with a huge gap between what the marketing promised and what the film delivers. However if you can put up with lengthy expositional sequences, the tedious Zion scenes, a romance with all the fizz and sparkle of three day old 7up, an over reliance on computer effects and a generally shoddy approach to entertainment, there is a reasonable action film lurking inside. Follow the hype, if you must, but consider yourself duly warned.

And...

In Defence of the Graphic Novel

“A total lack of inspiration has meant that Holly wood is now devoting its time to filming comics, sequels and reheats.” – Evening Herald (May 21, 2003)

I saw this in the Herald the other day. I’m not proud of what I did but I needed something to read. Now, maybe I’m nitpicking but I seem to be detecting a trace of anti-comic sentiment here. Notice how they have said that adapting comics lacks inspiration. They don’t mention novels so apparently it’s okay to vomit the latest Tom Clancy or Stephen King. I don’t see why comic adaptations should be singled out as a problem with the film industry. Frankly it smacks of an all too common mainstream media disdain for alternative culture. Normally when faced with astounding stupidity of this type I would simply smack the offending individual around the head with my Big Stick of Tolerance, but today you have found me in a reflective mood. I’m going to even the scales by making the case for comics. I don’t want to preach to the choir here so if you already know that comics are great, I suggest you stop reading now. Do something you enjoy. Go read your favourite comic.

Let’s see if we can figure out why you think that comics aren’t for you. Perhaps your only knowledge of comics came from the Beano when you were a kid. Or you think that they’re all about vigilantes in tight pants. Maybe you just think there is something inherently childish about telling a story with colourful pictures. In which case you probably don’t like the cinema either. The truth is that comic books, or graphic novels if you really want to appear grown up, make up a culture that is at least as rich and varied as film and books. Crucially comics are also suitably different from other cultural art forms. Comic books are produced by small, dedicated teams, usually just a writer and illustrator. This means that they are free from the focus group bureaucracy of the film industry while also avoiding the extreme self-indulgence that novels can sometimes descend into.

I would like to point out that I’m not a massive comic book fan. I don’t have the time to buy them on a weekly basis. However they are an important part of my cultural diet, alongside films, books and music. I think they deserve to be recognised in the same way. The comic industry is still in its adolescence, it’s experimenting and it’s growing rapidly. Why not get on board while the industry is still young enough to be rich with ideas, before the mainstream takes it over and tries to kill it with conformity? Just look at the garbage that spews from your radio every day.

At this point you’re either interested or you have dismissed this rant as the rambling of a confused mind. The best thing for you to do is head down to Forbidden Planet on the Quays and start reading. Let me start you off with some of my favourites. If you like crime thrillers, try 100 Bullets, a grimy morality tale that takes a tiresome premise (what would you do if you could get away with murder?) and breaths new life into it. Want to read something that has more opinions that a pubful of students? Pick up Transmetropolitan for social satire so furious that flecks of enraged spittle practically drip off the pages. Perhaps you do fancy reading about super heroes in tights? It’s okay, we all do sometimes. Read Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, it’s the yardstick for the genre. Special mention should go to Preacher which tells a story that is simply more engrossing than just about anything that I’ve ever experienced, in any medium. And finally, if you want to see how this unique medium can tell stories in ways that other industries can only dream of, you can’t beat The Invisibles, which wedges conspiracy theories, hallucinogenic artwork and old fashioned ultra violence into a neat package, aims it at your central cortex and pulls the trigger.

There’s a whole new world out there waiting for you. Come and play.

Also I have a job interview in two days with the local supermarket. Not exactly glamorous but living out in the sticks as I do, the idea of a place within cycling distance that will give me money is incredible.

So it's been a few days since my last post. Stuff has happened. Such as:

1) Saw the Matrix Reloaded. Was disappointed.
2) Avoided studying for my last exam over the weekend. Paid the price.
3) Read back over the email I received from ed of paper. Noticed that when previous editor forwarded it to new editor removed the line “Is it okay to love journalism and hate journalists?” Damn stinking journalist.
4) Have written first draft of writing samples. That’s right, plural. Got a little ambitious. Will stick them up tomorrow if they meet standards.
5) As treat for finishing exams bought myself a hardback edition of the Punisher run written by Grant Ennis and pencilled by Steve Dillon. They’re the same guys who did Preacher. Is it wrong to be secretly pleased that Ennis is Irish? Does that make me a nationalist?
6) Looking forward to weekend. Party at Naomi’s. Too bad it’s a going away party. She is off to America to seek her fortune. I am a sad panda.
7) Realised that this journal isn't really private and that certain thoughts which I have cannot be recorded here. Means I have to keep filling in my paper journal for ideas that are too weird for public consumption. If you're really that interested mail me and I'll tell you what I think of the Special Olympics. Just for an example.

That is all, filthy internet folk.

I LOVE the Internet

So I was in this forum called Everything is Ace, which is basically a negativity free zone started by Kieron Gillen, and I had just finished reading Transmetropolitan #4 (which is Ace!) so I made a little thread called 'Comics are Ace' and I just explained how great the comic is. That was yesterday. So I came back to it today and a few people had posted to it. It was a deliberate ploy on my part, I knew that the word 'comic' would lure Gillen in. Sure enough he was in there to state his love for Transmet. Then right underneath that there was a message from Warren Ellis (as in the guy who writes Transmet). It was totally amazing. Made my week.

I thought I was doing pretty well with my attempt to give up tv. I should have known it wasn't going to be easy. tv is fighting back. First there's Will and Grace which is really shallow and stupid but you can watch it all day and it won't fill you up with silly ideas. Then there's American Gothic which looks all weird and interesting and creepy. Not to mention Hidden Hills which is pretty freakin' hilarious. It's about this suburban dad and you should check it out. It should fill the Scrubs shaped hole in my life.

Stupid addictive tv. Go study.

Another exam finished. Was the same as the last one. Except that at the end of this one I quoted Bill Hicks and claimed it should be the starting point for a true liberal society. I was on kindof a pretentious political world changing vibe. Afterwards I ate chips and sat in the park for a couple of hours and chatted with two of my favourite people in the world.

Tonight there will be no studying. Instead I'm gonna kill my brain with some of the most toxic mind death known to man.

That's right, I'm gonna kick back and watch Buffy.

Exams are a pain in the hole. Today's went ok. The right topic came up and I could waffle on about it for a few pages. Can't ask for more than that. Another one tomorrow morning. Then three days off. Then another one. Then I am free for four months. Free to work like a dog for money so that I can be a lazy student for my final year.

Also, contacted the college rag with a view to writing for them next year. Got a reply from the ed. They want a sample of my writing. Oooh. Must overcome terminal shyness. What to write about? Might do a movie review. Plan to see the Matrix this weekend. Otherwise some sort of opinionated rant. It can wait til the weekend anyway.

Must study.

I'm in college and it's about an hour before my first exam. How am I feeling? A bit bored, to be honest. I think the leaving cert spoiled me a bit. It's hard to get all worked up over an exam unless it's the one that will decide your whole future. Add to that the fact that I only have three exams and if I fail them the worst thing that will happen is that I'll have to do them again. Like I said, hard to get worked up.

Right, I'm off.

I was up late picking my brother and his mates up from the pub. It was their last day of school. Bless. They were all chatting away loudly about graduation and stuff and my brother was keeping quiet so that he wouldn't say anything that would give away just how much he had drank (drunk?). Anyway I was just hit by this wave of nostalgia for that time when I was in my late teens experimenting with alcohol and forging those really intense personal friendships and arguing about politics and discovering really great films and going to concerts and reading 1984 and worrying about the Leaving Cert and thinking about the Debs and wondering about college. Looking back it seems like I was free when in actual fact I know I wasn't. Anyway I had this feeling like my days of being young and stupid and irresponsible were over, even though the times I was harking back to are only 3 years ago.

It was then that I made a sober, informed and rational decision to get completely drunk at the next available opportunity. After my exams, natch. I'll need all the brain cells I can muster.

I know Naomi has a going away party coming up at the end of the month. Note to self: Get langered at her party.

Nighty night, little bloggy ones.

A Secret

I don't quite know how to tell you guys this...but, uh...I think that some of the people out there using the interweb are (how should I put this?)...I think there might be one or two people who you might possibly describe as perverts. I know it sounds crazy, but I've seen a few sites and I think the web may not be the fluffy happy commune I thought it was. There are some werid things going on.

I know it's not really a secret, but the internet is the last place to put a real secret.

A Question

Q. Why is everything more interesting than studying?

A. Because studying sucks.

Still feeling creative. I'm writing a story. I haven't done that in years. I figure this will be kind of a jumble of ideas and themes that are rolling around in my head. Aliens, guns, government cover ups, a few more of my favourite things. After I get it out of my system I'll probably come up with something less derivative. It's surprisingly fun, just writing for yourself. Why can I do everything I want to do except study for my exams that are much less than a week away? I'm a born procrastinator. And why am I still awake? I am wired. And I don't even drink coffee...

Strange days.

I also whipped up a short review of Half-Life, in the hopes that my favourite game magazine will see fit to publish it. I've spent a few days tweaking it and I think it's alright. I may have found a new angle on the game that's been analysed to death. Take a look see:

Half Life

Half-Life, eh? Best RPG ever. Don’t believe me? You soon will.

You play the role of Gordon Freeman, bespectacled everyman and research scientist in the mysterious Black Mesa Research Facility. In classic RPG-stylee you’re dropped into the boots of a broadly drawn character and invited to fill in the incidental details yourself. Half-Life eschews any clunky cinematic cut scenes in favour of total immersion. One of its greatest achievements is in creating a game world that is wholly convincing and believable. It’s also vast, in terms of length and scale. Locations like gargantuan atomic reactors, sheer cliff faces and massive monorail sequences remind you that you are a very little person up against overwhelming odds.

And what would a game be like without a full assortment of fellow scientists, security guards and bloodthirsty, multi-tentacled, slobbering aliens? A bit rubbish, I suppose. Luckily Half-Life is populated by a menagerie of weird aliens, squads of double hard marines and some unfortunate NPCs caught in the middle. You’ll probably have to blink back a manly tear when Barney the security guard meets his inevitable grisly demise. You want an engaging storyline? How about a classic b-movie plot involving sinister experiments, aliens, guns, government cover-ups, black humour, more guns, trans-dimensional tomfoolery and bosses that resemble unborn foetuses and pendulous single testicles?

Like other RPGs, you gain experience as the game progresses. Except that it’s not represented by an arbitrary numerical tally but in the acquisition of skills that allow you to better cope with the chaotic situations that you find yourself in. At the start of the game you’ll flinch at the sound of your own gun, by the end you’ll be a bullet spewing, marine thumping, duck jumping, booby trapping, alien slapping Destroyer of Worlds! Ahem.

Forget Deus Ex and Baldur’s Gate. Half Life is the best RPG in existence. Roll on number two.

On the Job Hunt

The television happened to be on a tennis match. Serena Williams was playing and the camera was lovingly focussed on her toned, lycra-clad posterior and my granny goes “Would you look at the bottom on that thing?” I know she comes from a different time with values and ideas that are alien to my own, but her unassuming racism is still shocking.

I hate applying for job. The whole ritual depresses me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m great and employers should count themselves lucky to be in my presence. They don’t see it that way. I was writing a cover letter for a computer games shop and I’m so sick of writing drab missives along the lines of “Dear Sir/Madam, I am writing in response to your advertisement of blah blah blah”, that I snapped and wrote my cover letter in the style of a cheesy infomercial flogging a cybernetic sales assistant. I have no idea if this is cute or insanely desperate. But I don’t think I have anything to lose. They’ll either ignore it or give me a job. I can live with that.

What the Name Means

Time to give my blog a new name. I figure that "Where is my Mind" sounds too self-absorbed and existential and whiney. The kicker is that it still is but I can probably lure more people in this way. Not that I care anyway. Or do I?

Like the previous title, this one also has a story behind it. Gather round children and I will soon bore you to sleep with another quaint story from my past. A few years ago I was in secondary school. I was fortunate enough to have an inspirational tutor who delighted in shoving a culture crowbar into my narrow mind, cranking it open and stuffing it with great books and cds and films and shit. Metaphorically speaking, natch. One of the books he lent me, I can't remember the name, was about a typical American suburb that had been plunged into martial law. Now the twist was that the suburbanites were still going to their white-collar jobs and shopping at the mall, only their whole neighbourhood was a warzone with barbed wire, mines and trenches. Naturally society had been divided up into sets of warring tribes. The story was about a school teacher and it had one hell of a fucked up ending. Now there was one passage where the teacher was describing his neighbours' houses. It's typical 80's penis-envy except that all of the houses have been modified to survive a nuke. There was one house which had been encased in cement, for protection, and the owner had set up his sprinklers to spray up into the air so that when the sun caught them the house sparkled like a rainbox. A 'rainbox pillbox' as it was called. I just thought it was a nice phrase, containing both natural beauty and ugly functionality.

If that makes sense, I'm beginning to feel tired now.

What is it with online quizzes? They're really stupid. And addictive. Like tv. But don't get me started on that. I only carved my tv commandments in stone yesterday and I've already broken six seperate rules. I officially suck.


Culture Obsession


What's Your Obsession?
brought to you by Quizilla

Culture obsession, eh? I can live with that.

I was lying in bed last night and I experienced a moment of clarity. It suddenly dawned on me that television is a drug. Now I had heard this before, but until this point I had not really accepted it. It makes sense. Television is addictive, mood altering, and dangerous in large quantities. It’s not a great drug, but it still counts. Like any drugs that one is exposed to, it is important to regulate one’s use. To this end I have drawn up a set of rules to control my exposure. They are as follows:

1. If you find myself saying “Oh I remember this episode, wait ‘til you see the bit where…” it means that you have seen this show before and watching it again is a waster of my time.

2. Under NO circumstances should television be watched between the hours of 3am and 5pm as this is where programs with absolutely no merit are placed by television executives that are terrified by the thought of their cathode ray box not beaming radiation into you brain.

3. No soaps, no way. They simply recycle the same storylines over the years, guaranteeing that you will not be scared by any new ideas.

4. Meals should be eaten at a table, not on your knees in front of the goggle box.

5. ‘Reality television’ is designed to distract you form real life, which doesn’t have as many advertisements. Avoid it.

6. Instead of watching MTV, try the radio, which can play songs even when they don’t have a shiny video to accompany them.

7. Although the internet is in some ways similar to television, it allows you to interact with human beings. It is less harmful but still lethal in uncontrolled dosages.

8. No more than two hours of viewing per day, excluding culturally significant sporting events.

9. Instead of shushing family and friends when they try to talk during your show, try speaking to them. They might have something to say.

10. Game shows are the work of Lucifer himself, placating his subjects with the illusion that money, power and fame will be yours if you fill your head with enough trivia, rather than by working hard.


Wish me luck people, I’ll see you on the other side.

I woke up this morning and my friend had sent me this message in the middle of the night: “Bush has been assassinated. Turn on the news.” So run down to the tv in my underwear, switch on the news, and…nothing. Nothing about a dead president. So I try to ring my friend and he ain’t answering. I am confused. Either my friend was drunk or high when he sent the message, or Bush really is dead and it’s been hushed up or something. Not as far fetched as it seems. Remember on Sep. 11th when we were told that the US military had shot down the fourth hijacked plane? We didn’t hear much more about that, now did we?

Frankly I don’t really care if Bush is dead or alive. I do think he’s a poisonous little shit, but I don’t think that his death would really change anything. It would be like shooting the dummy that called you names instead of the ventriloquist.

Great. Blogger isn’t working. I know it’s free but that won’t stop me bitching about it.

Warren Ellis speaking:

When you talk about movies, there's always that which bookstores live by; the book is almost always better than the movie. You could have no better case in point than FROM HELL, Alan Moore's best graphic novel to date, brilliantly illustrated by Eddie Campbell. It's hard to describe just how much better the book is. It's like, "If the movie was an episode of 'Battlestar Galactica' with a guest appearance by the Smurfs and everyone spoke Dutch, the graphic novel is Citizen Kane' with added sex scenes and music by your favourite ten bands and everyone in the world you ever hated dies at the end." That's how much better it is.

He uses words the same way that the US uses bombs.

Reading Gillen’s blog,he said something that seems to apply to me:

I write about Stafford so much because it defines what drives me on completely. It's an average town, with literally nothing to do and nowhere to do it. There were no decent record shops. There was no decent clubs, at least any I'd like to go. There wasn't anywhere to buy books of an oblique nature. Christ - you couldn't even be geeky properly, since there was nowhere you could buy any funny-shaped dice or little lead men. I wasn't even aware of the concept of a Comic Shop until Dave Hyland dragged me into Nostalgia and Comics in Brum on a rare shopping trip.
So I stayed immersed in mainstream pop-culture far longer than anyone with my temperament would be in any sane town. To choose one example, it lead me to loving Pop music in a more genuine way than anyone can really grasp, because if you're forced to go to a shitty club because there's nothing else to do, you learn to differentiate between the various strata of Pop and learn what there is to treasure in things most people sneer about.

I always felt like an outsider as a kid. I live in a place so remote and rural we don’t have a bus service. The only place within cycling distance is a village with a church, shop and school. Pop? 500. Maybe. Until I was 18 (ie 2 years ago) our tv picked up 6 channels. Think about that. I only started watching The Simpsons a coupla years ago. The only radio stations we got were pop friendly clones. (seriously we have two competing stations called 98fm and fm104 that I swear come from the same transmitter). The only music in my house until I was 13 was my parents’ old vinyl collection and the record player was broken. I didn’t even live near any kids my age. If I wanted to go hang out at someone’s house it took about 3 days notice. I had to look inwards to entertain myself. I read every book in the house. I watched every tv show that was on. Every film that my parents didn’t know I was watching. (I’ll never forget the time Mum caught me trying to tape ‘Aliens’ when I was like 12). I didn’t know there was such a thing as alternative media until I was about 15. We bought a pc when I was 13. We got the internet when I was 17. I didn’t get my first real job until I was 18. My childhood was closeted. Comfortable, but restricted. I’m not saying that my parents were stifling me, but what can you do when you live in the middle of nowhere? Even now that I'm in college I still live at home. So when the evening starts and people are heading out to do stuff I'm braving the rush hour traffic and heading home. Anyway the point is that I never really feel like I fit in with people. My development was focused on being comfortable with myself rather than with other people. I feel like I am coming at the world from a different angle. Things that other people take for granted I’m only just finding out that they exist. Like going out to clubs. It’s an alien idea to me. One that I will probably never get used to. Or drinking beer. I don’t get it. The point of this mini-biography is this; I feel like a hermit who has been trapped in a cave for 20 years and has just come out to discover that there is more to the world than the ancient collection of encyclopaedias that he’s had for company. If that makes any sense.

Back to you, Gillen:

knowing I started later than everyone else makes me very aware it's always catch up time. I'm going to die soon and I really can't pretend otherwise. Then again, if I *was* exposed earlier, maybe the lack of drive wouldn't bother me since I would feel I had nothing to prove?
If I'd haven the net earlier, I'd probably be a happier, more well-adjusted and generally rounded human being.
And what sort of fuck would want that?

Excellent

I just realised that my archives hadn't been posted or something. That's all fixed now. So if you're interested in what I was talking about, oh two weeks ago, you know what to do. I was telling my friend about this blog, but I didn't think that she would actually visit it and even read it. I better start watching what I say. Maybe try and tone down the crazy a little.

Ah, who am I kidding? If she's known me for three years and thinks I'm sane, she hasn't really been paying attention. Anyway, if I was smart I wouldn't be having this thought out here where anyone can read it. I need sleep.

I'm not big into online tests (except for thespark.com) but this one tickled my fancy. I wonder why? Part of me wishes I could have scored higher (lower?) but I am quite proud of my disdain for all religions. Thinking back to my Catholic upbringing just cracks me up these days.

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Sixth Level of Hell - The City of Dis!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very High
Level 7 (Violent)	Moderate
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Moderate

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Time to Vent

If the thought of someone with few things to worry about at the moment bitching about a relatively unimportant problem annoys you, it is recommended that you avoid reading the following entry. You have been warned.

Something is bugging me.

I was in town today, seeing a few friends and taking care of some stuff that has been piling up since I decided to barricade myself into my room to try and study. This is not unusual. We had lunch, chatted about stuff, strolled around town, had ice cream and wondered why people hate students so much. Anyway during my day I spent money, as I am rather prone to do. Nothing noteworthy about this either. There is a point to this twaddle.

Replaying my day in my head I realised that the art of customer service is virtually dead. Let me show you:

1. Waitress at restaurant declines to smile as she takes our order.
2. Guy at till graciously pauses his telephone conversation to take my money. Would you like a tip? Tough shit.
3. Comic book clerk stops playing with his phone long enough to fleece me. The cad.
4. I buy a bottle of coke in a newsagent's. "Next!” I approach the clerk. Instead of making eye contact with me, his attention is immediately drawn to the beverage in my hands. He scans it and barks the price at me. He looks impatient as I pause to find the correct change. Trying to inject a sense of civility to the transaction, I look him in the eye and say, "thank you." He looks to the next customer. "Next!”

Taken separately, these are all very minor incidents, but when I put them together I get the feeling that customer service is gone. It felt like I was intruding on these people, as if by buying something from them, I was somehow wasting time that would be better spent chatting to their friends or messing with their stupid fucking phones. Bitter? Maybe a little. But when I am paying through the noise for stuff I expect a little attention. Now, does poor customer service make we want to spend more money or less money? Let me think about that for a minute. Hmmm. Is the answer, ”No fucking way.”

Indeed it is.

Rant over. Normal service will be resumed tomorrow.

I am not a morning person

“Get up, David, we’re leaving in five minutes.”

David groans as his mind races towards full consciousness. His brain is still reeling from the odd dream he had. He was back in school and the teacher gave out to him for using his mobile phone in class. In spite of this, he felt oddly relaxed and comforted being back in primary school. He is not sure what this means, although he remembers that he was considering a job as a teacher last month. There’s no time to ponder this unsettling idea as he crawls into his clothes and staggers towards the bathroom. He slaps too much gel into his hair and then prods it until it resembles something that might be mistaken for a hairstyle. He can hear his sister complaining about him from the kitchen.

“We were supposed to leave at eight! This is really unfair.”

David resents this remark. He’s getting up four hours early just to suit her plans. He considers shouting this down to her, but he’s not the shouting type. When he gets to the kitchen his mother has poured his cereal into a bowl so that he can eat it in the car.

He silently pines for an age where meals were eaten at a table.

“I just have one little job for you to do in town for me…”

Alarm bells go off in our hero's head. Sure enough, the task is one that Hercules would quail at. He smiles weakly. As he puts on his jacket he realises that his sister is not finished getting ready. He waits five minutes, for no apparent reason.

In the car, his sister conducts a one-way conversation, spewing facts and statistics and urban planning that she will need for her exam this morning. It transpires that his sister is not going in his direction so he leaves and gets the bus. The sunlight hurts his eyes, sensitive from too many nights slouched in front of a computer. He sweats underneath the heavy jacket he wore after the weather forecast promised “frequent wind and showers”.

He arrives in college, collapses in front of a computer and prepares to describe his morning in minute detail. He decides to utilise a third person style, in an attempt to distance himself from the grumpy, unpleasant individual revealed by his confession. He flexes his fingers.

And begins.

I know I said that Ken doesn’t know when to quit, but even I didn’t think he had a chance of coming back at Mark Williams. But he did. He won six frames on the trot and he only lost in the end by 18-16. An incredibly gutsy performance and one that he has nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve been watching a lot of sport recently, with the rugby, soccer, hurling and football, and I am always disgusted by the way that the sport itself is undermined by cheating, club politics, badmouthing, backbiting, bad sportsmanship and bad playing. It was refreshing to watch the snooker championships, which was dominated by manners, sporting behaviour, excitement and uniformly excellent play. This is a sport where if a player commits a foul that the referee missed, he will call the foul on himself. It’s nothing short of miraculous in the realm of professional sport. Other sports should take note.

On the other hand, thank god the championship is over - I can finally have my life back.

I am depressed. My man Ken Doherty is not doing so well in the World Snooker final. He’s about 6 frames behind the other guy. The other guy is Mark Williams, a droopy, no neck freak. His appearance didn’t bother me before he started beating my guy. I am angry and need something to lash out at. This always happens when I watch Ken play. I get so worked up that my mental well-being rests on every shot he makes. After vicarously living through his matches for the last fortnight I am a shivering mass of neuroses. At least it will all be over tomorrow.

Because I am going to commit suicide, from the sound of things.

I know I haven’t updated in a few days, but I have my reasons. Firstly, I did string a few sentences together the other night but good old Blogger crashed before it posted. Secondly, the damn Snooker Championship is still on am I’m hooked. Mainly because my man, Ken Doherty, is through to the final. He clawed his way back from 15-9 down, to win 17-16 in the end. He’s a real down and dirty scrapper, doesn’t know when to quit.

Also I was thumbing through my video game collection, looking for something to get stuck into. Installed and removed about half a dozen games before slapping ol’ Half-Life in. Seemed like a good time to revisit it, what with details of the sequel finally starting to trickle out. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this game was one of my all time faves. It really moved the goalposts for games in general. Before it came out everyone was arguing about whether Quake 2 was better than Unreal. Then HL came along and silenced us all by being so much better than both that it wasn’t even funny. I remember a friend telling me that HL might be pretty good, but it couldn’t be as endlessly replayable as his beloved Goldeneye. I pointed out that I had played HL through on Hard about ten times, allowing 15-20 hours each. And I’m not the kind of guy to play a game though for kicks. I usually get bored after the first go. Anyway I loaded up a new game – and would you believe it? – it’s fantastic. Not in that nostalgic way, like when I think about how great Doom was back then but knowing deep down that it would suck nowadays. It was genuinely great to play again. It made me realise how little the industry has learnt from the lessons it taught. The only thing that dates the game is the graphics engine. It’s the old Quake engine, I think. There’s probably a life lesson to learn here. Damned if I know what though.

Okay if you’re not into games that was probably quite boring for you. I hope you just skipped ahead to this paragraph. If not, tough, I can’t be bothered with people who will just read anything on the internet.

I was seriously considering taking that entry prior to this one out. I read it back and it has a real stalker vibe going on. But it is a reasonable representation of what I was thinking at the time so, in the spirit of honesty that this log strives for, I’m leaving it in. Plus I know I’m not a stalker. I tend to give up on girls way too easy. But don’t get me started on that.

Warren Ellis was just going on about some sort of online book here and I do have a lot of time on my hands. Sounds interesting. Here’s what it says on the front page “This online novel contains strong language and explicit violence.
If you are under 21 years old, or easily offended, please leave.” I like the promise of foul language and ultra violence along with the politeness thing. And I’m only 20! Shhhhh.
Nearly forgot. Cool thing happened. Went out to a fancy restaurant for dinner with my whole family. Which never happens. Seriously. It could be a decade since we last did this. It was Chinese so the food was all plonked on plates and we were all trying each other’s food. It was sorta cosy and intimate and relaxed. Felt good. Like a real family. We were celebrating Dad’s birthday. Go dad!
Right let’s put you up.