Not a poem

I'm not sure what I think about poems in this blog.

In fact I am sure my writing isn't meant to be in a poemy form.

There is a piece of music called Glasgow Love Song, by Craig Armstrong. I think it's off the movie This Years Love, don't know for sure as I've avoided it. I've just realised that I purposely don't watch romance/love story type movies. I guess it's much the same for those people have who have extreme reactions to horror movies or anything with Steven Segal in it.

Just the title fires up emotions in my head. Now I'm thinking if This is This Years Love, what happened last year? And what the fuck is gonna happen next year?

I've just listened to this track twenty times on the run. It's only 2 minutes long but very moving, and I feel a loss inside of me. I can imagine this music fading in, in the movie, just at the very moment the hero/heroines heart gets threw into a mincer and made into dog food. I keep thinking of words to go with this piece of music . It's 1.19am now, and now... it's twenty-one times. I'll be up all night if I don't do this.

Waited more than you could know

Wanted less than you let go

Just hold on and you’ll be here

Just hope now that you are near

I don’t want to be too happy

I’ll settle for being ordinary

It's 1.48am now. It's not much of a poem but I think I can go to bed soon.

I just need to listen to Spider-pig off the Simpsons soundtrack, then have a wank.

Heathly eating.

It's still early. I've just been to the garage/shop around the corner, wasn't sure if it would be open.

I came back with these goodies.

















The cornerstone of any balanced diet.

I feel marginally less depressed than I did an hour ago.
I've just chomped my second bacon butty, the kettles just boiled.

'Ere love, get us a brew?'
'Ten sugars or twelve?'

Bad. Dream.

It's 6.00 am.

I over analyze.

And pick my memory to bits.

I can't write whats on my mind.

As every time I look at this, I'll start over again...






Shit, now I've gone and done it.

Frost/Nixon, will it suck?

Frost/Nixon recounts the 1977 television interviews, where David Frost bamboozled Richard Nixon into admitting wrong doing in the Watergate affair.

Based on the award winning West End and Broadway play, written by Peter Morgan and set to star the brilliant British actor Michael Sheen and Skeletor from Masters of the Universe.

Due to be released in October 2008, slap bang in the middle of the US presidential election.

If movies based around political interviews are your bag, then this will be da fucking bomb!

Shakepear's Atoms

I'm an antsiest and don't believe in reincarnation, so I'm pretty much fucked when I pop my clogs.

I read somewhere that we all share about fifty thousand of the atoms that also made up William Shakespeare. I wonder what bit of him I got?

[Fuck.]

I think that Faith, my definition of the word Faith, could be switched with the definition of the word Hope.

Insert your dictionary definition of the word Hope - here - now [there's 57 Heinz varieties to choose from]

When my son was born he had to have an operation on his stomach, I really did take a moment, in the children's ward of Liverpool Womens Hospital and prayed to god, 'Please let him wake up after the anesthetic.'

The last time I prayed, before that, was the night that my Granddad Jones passed away, I was 16 and cried myself to sleep.

I'm thinking of what to type next. I'm staring at the wallpaper on my living room wall. I know that it's spinning around the sun at 10,000 bpm ( or whatever) , just as I am.

I know that our sun is in an obscure corner of the universe.

I know that the planet Earth, that we're cutting down all the tree's on, has only been able to sustain life for that last million or so years (before that it looked like Runcorn).

I know that Homosapien man left the African plains thirty thousand years ago, after he'd fucked all the Neanderthal women and eaten all the Neanderthal men.

I know that man invented god, god didn't invent man.

I know that the Romans crucified a man called Jesus Christ.

I know that 500 years ago, burning witches was a national sport.

I know a car bomb can kill someone I went to school with.

[Fuck.]

I know that the last time I prayed to god it went something think this -

'please let him wake up after the anesthetic,
please let him wake up after the anesthetic,
please let him wake up after the anesthetic.'


'Goodnight, thank you, and may your god go with you.'
Dave Allen (July 6, 1936- March 10, 2005)

The Sopranos is the new history of America.

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Sony made me fat.

I've just come back from the gym. I don't want to get fit, I just want to get not fat.

I'm slowly starting to see some improvements. If I tense my muscles, do that thing with my love handles, suck my gut in then squint my eyes, I can almost see the shape I might might be heading for. Fuck, was that thought going through Buffalo Bills head, as he tucked his cock between his legs?

I can almost see the shape I might be heading for.

I used to train a lot, but Sony fucked me up when they brought out the Playstation.

I write this nonsense with my ipod on. At this exact second, Michael Gambon is saying, in a gravely tone - 'You're born, you take shit, you get out in the world, you take more shit, you climb a little higher, you take less shit. Till one day you're up in the rarefied atmosphere and you've forgotten what shit even looks like.'

It's the classical track called Aria from the movie Layer Cake, with the Facts of Life speech as the intro.



'Welcome to the layer cake, son'

It's a moving piece, to listen to anything else would spoil the moment.

Our work here is done for tonight, lets all go home and jerk off.

Peace.

Terry Tibbs - Talk to me

This is a work of genius. I may put my TV back on, for this.

The world is yours...

...don't fuck it up today.