The melancholy tale of my left foot
(just to clarify... my left foot does not have a tail. be it melancholy or otherwise)

This morning, my left foot woke up next to my right foot as it has done every morning for twenty years. The old friends greeted each other and gave each other a friendly hug and then set about their business for the day.

When they were put inside their shoe-houses for the day, they knew that they were both in shoe-houses with no nasty holes in them and so they would be safe and dry from the neverending rain in Spain.

Right foot went though the day safe in this knowledge, looking forward to bed time when he would finally see his friend again.

Left foot was not so lucky. As soon as they left the house, swinging past each other much faster than usual as they do every morning, left foot began to feel a bit of a shiver. Right foot was sloshing through puddles but as soon as left foot tried it he realised that he couldn't do it without letting puddles into his shoe-house. "This is odd" thought left foot, "there aren't usually puddles in my shoe-house"

As the day went on.. they... were... sad... and.... a bit cold.



...oh sod it... dumb, holey trainers... dumb, drowned left foot...

I would like to announce, to all those who can hear me (can you hear the voice of a person who isn't there? Yes, I'll throw it) that I have experienced the sensation, the phenomenon that is invisibility.
I haven't decided what to do with my new found powers yet, maybe go about tripping up people I dont like and making farting noises behind them while they are in important meetings. Then maybe I'll catch a flight and see the world. Simple wishes, but I know I'll be happy.
I wish I could just leave it at that, but it would appear that I have developed a skill for throwing my voice. I worked this out when I asked Marta a question and she answered Martina... I was so pleased.
I don't know if these new skills will be as useful or as fun as those of the invisibilism but I'm certainly looking forward to finding out. Maybe I could work on impressions of people and then make it sound like they are saying something else.
"So Mr. Bush, what do you think of Nader announcing his candidacy for the forthcoming election?"
"Ahh think it's grayyyte, in fayact, ah resaaahn, Ralph can hayave mah job today, election shmelection, thahht's mah motto!"

Ok, maybe it needs some work, but you see how my new talents can be useful...

Can you see me?

On the Athlete website, you can listen to the almost the whole album. That is a great thing that I have to do because Anneka stole my Athlete album. But it has made me so sleepy.
I think I'm coming down from some serious dry ice hyper-activity. The best thing about my job is that sometimes, Walls/Frigo/Streets offices around the world send us ice cream. Yes, I get to eat it, but that's not the best thing. In the boxes containing the ice cream, they have to put a bag of dry ice to stop said ice cream from melting. Today, I decided to just stick it in some water.

Boy, oh boy. Could I ever have felt more like a magician creating an incredible bubbly, smoky potion? It was fantastic but now I feel sleepy even though I have ventilated the office and wrapped up the frozen carbon dioxide so none would poison me and make me sleepy and dizzy.

I think that even if it was in a completly sealed lead box, I would still feel the same.

I can't read any more of Olivia's blog today, I am full up. She makes me laugh and makes me confused that I can't write even nearly as intelligently even though I am older and am even at university.
Blogs are odd. You seive through the terrible ones full of the same old writing and then sometimes, you find a really witty one and it's a gasp when you've been under water too long.
I suppose that the terrible ones are somewhat diverting to the friends of the author (watch as I try to justify my taking up space on the internet) and that is the main thing.
But the good ones are something else. It makes me feel a bit strange, a bit like I'm looking into someone else's window and watching them make their lives. It's like Big Brother, but with more intelligently formed sentences and less cider.
Today, at work, I wasn't told to do anything until half past one so I just sat and read for four hours. Papers, eastenders and blogs. I'm trying to find another one that I get lost in, but I know that that probably isn't the best idea, socially.
In reality, actually, the time spent reading was probably slightly less because I have to factor in the time spent staring out the window. I have been staring a lot today. Sometimes I feel like my eyelids are folding back into my head. The weather's turned smelly and I get stuck watching the cars go past.
I just got stuck again. Did you notice?

Monica makes smoking look horrible. It's something about the way she sucks on the thing. Makes it look grainy and inky grey going up and round and filtering through harsh wire mesh catching spiderwebs and little bugs. The smoke sounds and feels like the noise and sensation of chewing cotton wool. The cigarette instantly becomes this cement stick that she trying hard to get air out of.
I feel like I can feel it going into her lungs, covering the walls and dripping from the roof. A thick black oil that makes me think of those pictures of covered ducks on the beaches after a spill.
I don't like it one little bit. My discomfort is like when my dad watches Heather doing the weather on BBC Scotland, an unexplainble angst. A shoulder- raising, teeth grinding thing that you can't quite think of the reasons behind.

(Actually my dad knows the reason, he says it is because she is too angular...)

Apparently I am a European, could have fooled me



Which America Hating Minority Are You?

And
Now
The
Dark
Is
Filled
With
Noise
Which
Has
Been
Stirred
By
Dis Con Tent
And
As
They
Wait
For
Time
To
End
They
Wait
For
Dawn
To
Break
On
This

Oh man that is weird. I would not advise going past the first page. Just have a look, have a laugh, furrow your brow and then leave and go somewhere friendly like www.disney.com or www.guidehorse.com

It's not smutty or anything, just might make you a bit freaked out. Ya. Go look at the little guide ponies in their tiny trainers. AWWWW.....

....

....

Ammm. This is kind of freaky. But it made me laugh, kind of. It's a brow furrower anyway.

¿Intrigued?

I wonder what the world would be like if everything went as crazy as this. Maybe it would be a better place...

Comments, readers?

I have disks in front of me with some of the new art work for Shrek 2... Ooohoooo the best morning. Will I get in trouble for putting some of it up here? This is how things get leaked eh? But it's just his cheeky little face...

Mullet Log

Revolutionary!! I didn't think they could get any worse, but here it is...

9 February 2004...
Male
Approx. 26.5 years (old enough to know better)
Walking down C/Numancia past me as I walked back for my lunch. Needless to say, I was put off my usual bread with philadelphea and crisps.
The dreadlocked mullet. Dark brown, almost black in colour. The shorter than usual top part of the mullet was counteracted by the sheer length of the six or seven dreadlocked tails hanging down the guy's back... heinous, erroneous, perverse and... SILLAHEY!!
I am curious, do you think he had a head full of dreadlocks first and then chose to cut all the front ones off or did he grow really long hair in the mullet and then got THAT dreadlocked?? (Which would mean that he had had the mullet for quite some time)

Please, friends, think twice.