Now, if you know anything about me you’ll know that I’m fascinated with the internet and how it works. I know that video is a little long, so I guess I could just break it down. It basically talks about how we’re living in an era where we’re witnessing the death of media as a commodity. Of course, this is all basically due to the internet.

For as long as Napster’s been around, which is when I started downloading music, there have also been lawsuits by big record labels and other corporate industries attempting to force their profit margins ever higher. I have an inherent disdain for big business and the often devious tactics it employs in order to ensure big money for little groups of people, but that’s beside the point. I think the reason why I’m so interested in the internet is because of its incredible tendency to decentralize power structures. I also enjoy it even more because it does so in an ironic way.

If you watched the video you already know that the internet is basically just a way to copy information indefinitely. Any number of computers can access the same information and make a permanent copy for later use. Firms and corporations have used this to their advantage to become more efficient and realize the ever-desired profits. However, this benefit only seems to come to light in industries that manufacture tangible goods where information is required to create it (say a car, it would require blueprints and engineering etc. The internet speeds that process up and spreads it out allowing more people to become involved and making it more efficient). It doesn’t seem to work the same way in the media industry where the good usually is the idea itself. By utilizing the internet these media giants have pretty much screwed themselves. Their product, media (which could essentially be called information (as opposed to a finished good)) can be duplicated, outside of the firm’s control, to the point where the potential supply far exceeds the demand. Can you tell I’m taking economics courses right now? Haha. Anyway, the price of media now is effectively 0 because of this overabundance of supply.

It’s also interesting to note that people have begun to turn away from the big media moguls and now find their entertainment from other consumers who, themselves, have become producers. The internet is basically a giant media enabler, but I’m sure everyone already knew that… I don’t really even know why I talked about this so much.

I guess it’s made me realize that if you’re going to have any sort of artistic impact in this day and age you have to surrender your identity to some extent. Works of art will rarely if ever be created by a single genius anymore. It’s becoming a collective effort. Humanity is joining up in instantaneous communication. I don’t think I’d really mind being anonymous.

In other news, in my perpetual video game deprivation, and just because I lurk forums all the time, I came across an interesting game trailer today. It looks quite cool. I’m intrigued by a game that doesn’t have a HUD and is focused mainly on jumping. Like a 3d platformer. We’ll see how it turns out. Still waiting on HL2 ep3 updates, as well as Spore. Although I did hear that a demo and the creature designer was coming out on June 17th. I’m a slowpoke I know…

Here’s something that just made me feel good about myself: I was lurking on a forum of mine where I had saw it fit to post my toast comic (anonymously of course), and I was in a certain thread when I saw a repost of it that I hadn’t posted. It was validating in a strange internet sort of way, but people had assigned an interesting metaphor to it:

“Toast=People.”

I considered this, and decided on a response. What do you make of this?

Good God what is wrong with me?

I don’t know which is sadder… the fact that I didn’t have any bread… or the fact that I have dreams about making toast.

Damnit I really need to get some work done.

However, for some strange reason, I’m the type of person that enjoys becoming familiar with places. I like to know about the intimate details and history and lore. I guess it boils down to a desire for acceptance, really… I want to become a part of an environment. I want to feel connected and cozy and warm. Like the values found in Beowulf. (LOL LITERARY REFERENCE) I enjoy the cool glow of a computer screen while watching the rain create concentric circles on the placid surface of the river whose view I’ve grown accustomed to and appreciative of.

I saved this post so that I might work on it the next day. Here I am.

Basically I think I’m obsessed with the idea of home. I don’t know if it’s because I convinced myself that I never really had a true home, or because of the fact that I never wanted to accept that Texas was where I grew up and experienced most of the important events of my life. Who knows? Who cares?

I think it hit me when I was coming back home after my escapades around Europe. The immigration guard tipped me off.

Of course he asked me some ridiculous questions. A depiction from my memory follows:

“Have you visited any foreign countries?”

“Uhhh… Yeah, the UK, France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Sweden and Norway… I wrote it all on that immigration card…”

“Hm. Have you visited any Middle Eastern countries?”

Yes, I figured that Israel would be a good stop over from Scandinavia. Even if I did visit a middle eastern country why would it matter? Would visiting a country make me a terrorist? Would they be able to sneak a bomb into my bag when I wasn’t paying attention? Whatever.

The point of this little anecdote is that once he looked me up and down and asked if I was carrying any illegal drugs (Why, yes, officer, here they are.) He said:

“Welcome home.”

It struck me. It made me happy.

I realized that this stretch of land… this continent that I grew up on is my homeland. This is the place that I know and am comfortable with. This is the place that I remember waking up to and being excited about going outside and playing with my Lego spaceship and my red play car that you could move by using your feet Flintstones style. This is the land that raised me to some extent. The rolling landscape and infinite sky will always remind me of adventure. I35 alone has shaped a summer of my life. I guess that it’s the spine that allowed me to branch out from the familiar landscape and experience the verdant hills of tennessee.

Even with the many problems that I have with America. I haven’t forgotten them you slimy fucks in charge. I hate you and I hope that your regime will fall along with all of your anti-constitutional laws that you put in place solely due to your fear and war-mongering. No matter the problems I have with America… It will be my home. Home. It’s the land that raised me, and I guess I love it.

This isn’t to say that I’ve resolved all of my conflicts with my home town… far from it. I think that will take a much longer time.

Enough of that. Nobody’s interested in my intoxicated ramblings… and yes I am intoxicated. Couldn’t you tell?

In other news I received a rather humorous email from myself two years in the past. Apparently, this is when I first came across Stumbleupon.com… which if you haven’t found out about it… you should. I guess I stumbled across this. It was a site that allowed you to predetermine a time in the future when an email would be sent to yourself… then you would write an email to yourself. I guess imparting the wisdom of the past or something…

Anyway… here’s the email I got from myself:

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Thursday, December 28, 2006, and sent via FutureMe.org
- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

Dear FutureMe,

I don’t know what the benefit is of sending myself a note in a time period when I will know more information than I do now, but I suppose if you require a little quip to keep you going through the day, then: I really hope you’re wearing clean underwear because you won’t always be able to get away with wearing the same pair two days in a row. You won’t always be too poor to do laundry every other week. Or maybe you will you fucking bum.

Funny thing was… I wasn’t wearing clean underwear… Some things never change.

It’s incredibly juvenile and was farted out of my brain while I drank cup after cup of free coffee while sitting in a cafe waiting for the rain to end which, of course, never happens in Bergen. It either rains all day, or it’s sunny all day.

Nevertheless, it made me smile, and I feel like I needed a break from all of the ponderous thinking I’ve been doing… so, you, gentle reader, get to bask in childish memories and humor with me.

This is a dramatization of what happened when I thought I lost my card. I left the guy whose money I stole out because it would have taken too long, and didn’t really add anything. I didn’t actually accuse the guy in the hostel room, but it crossed my mind.

I’m considering getting a tablet so that these can be more legible in the future.

I’ve certainly had some adventures and met a lot of interesting people, and I will talk about all of that, but I think I should start off by commenting that I have officially fallen in love with Norway. It’s the most beautiful, kind-hearted country I have ever visited (which isn’t that many, but who’s counting?). For continuity’s as well as coherence’s sake I’ll explain why. I’m currently residing in Bergen, which is on the western coast of Norway. It’s the second largest city in Norway, but you’d never know it because it has a population of around 250 thousand people. Probably less, but I’m too lazy to look up the statistics. Now this small population size not only makes you feel like you have an actual, personal location in the world, but it also makes the people kinder and more interested in their surroundings, town, fellow man. This isn’t even mentioning that, on the whole, Norwegian people are some of the nicest people I’ve met. I know I’m probably painting an overly rosy picture of this, but I really do enjoy them.

Perhaps a little story will explain this better. While in Oslo, I thought I had lost my check card, which would have been disastrous and probably the end of my trip, as I was about to pay for some coffee and a pastry at a cafe. Not realizing that the man in front of me had already set down his money to pay for his own coffee I allowed the cashier to use his money to pay for my things. Of course he realized, and I apologized profusely like an idiot, but both he and the cashier spoke fluent English and as I fumbled around like a fool the cashier said that I could take my coffee and pastry and come back when I found my card. The man whose money I stole even wished me luck as he left. Another: I was checking it at my hostel here in Bergen and had no means to pay because Bank of America in their infinite, fraud-killing wisdom decided to freeze my account and wanted me to call them to clear it up while I had no way of calling an international number (my phone’s sim card only works in the UK for some strange reason). Luckily the receptionist let me use HIS phone to call the US. I’m rambling now, but you get the picture.

Also, if you haven’t seen pictures of the Norwegian landscape, you should look up some pictures. The landscape has never ceased to amaze me here. The train ride from Oslo to Bergen was an experience I’ll never forget. I don’t need to go on about this because you can just look it up. I’m boring myself now, so I’ll just run through a list of cool stuff/people, that have happened/I have met.

In Stockholm I met two pairs of Germans, one pair were what you would call “Stereotypical.” I only saw them when they were drunk or hungover, and they were miserably either/or both times I saw them. They dragged me out to a club the night I arrived, but I went home before a cover charge was going to be involved.

The second pair were much more interesting. One girl and one guy, but they were both musicians from the black forest. We talked about music, politics, language and life in general over beers in a tapas bar. They mentioned that they were more excited to speak English than German and laughed at a few of my pronunciations when I tried to speak German to them. They were very interesting. Very rooted in reality and it seemed like they had a firm grasp on what I can only describe as the fleshy meaning of life. I feel like I float around above reality at times making vague, metaphysical connections to things I only hear whispered through wires and trees. See? There I go. Everything they spoke of was fleshy and pink and vibrant, and I wish I had gotten their information before they left. Bummer.

In Oslo: I met a Turk and another American. The Turk was very quiet and timid and asked me strangely personal questions for how shy he was. He wanted to know what it was like to be able to speak my mother tongue wherever I went (his words not mine). I was taken aback because I’ve often thought about that. I told him I felt bad, but there was nothing I could really do because I couldn’t learn all the languages in the world. I guess I could just not travel… He also asked me about the elections coming up and showed me pictures of his home and of Estonia, where he had been traveling before Oslo. The American was looking for work as an architect. He showed me some of his work, and if any of his designs are ever turned into an actual building whoever the owner of the property is should look into property insurance. He could make a killing because none of them will stand, let alone attract tenants. It was funny actually. It looked like he took a bunch of acid, smoked a lot of pot and the went crazy with a 3d modeling program. He was from California, so who knows.

In Bergen up to this point I’ve met a Nigerian fisherman who is looking for work in Norway. He’s pissed because his brother, who is a doctor in Maryland, won’t go to Alabama and talk to a ship building company so that he, the fisherman, can get his own boat to go back and fish for prawns (“prongs”) in Nigeria. I hope he gets his boat. He’s a nice guy. I also met a British couple who offered me a place at their house in Edinburgh if I’ve ever in town. They’ve traveled all over the place, climbed Mount Kenya, took a ski trip through the Norwegian Plateau etc etc. I was fascinated and a little bit jealous. They showed me pictures. I’m planning a trip to Edinburgh to see them later in the school year, maybe before I go home for summer.

I’m a little concerned with how I’ve depicted/written about these people. I talk about them as if they’re some museum exhibit. I’m missing that crucial attachment to the blood and flesh of the people. I can examine them from a distance, but I can’t get inside them to understand like the Germans seemed able to do. I guess that sounds sort of creepy, but it might explain something that has been bothering me for years. I can enjoy people and like them, but I have a real difficulty LOVING them. It might be my problem as well. I’m just not comfortable enough to sever that final barrier that would plug me into that strange life stream some people are so attuned to. I guess it would mean losing myself in a small way, but at the same time I desire it. It’s a terrible paradox and I’m starting to frighten myself talking about it. I’ll work on it and see what happens.

I’m starting to formulate an idea I’d like to write about more. It has something to do with the above as well as technology and humanity’s role in it and with it. Blah blah blah.

Climbed a mountain today. The sun came out. I went to the top and had a great view of the fjord and Bergen. Clouds were rolling past and the sunlight washed over the town making it sparkle if you stood in exactly the right spot. Fantastic. Catch a ferry in a couple of days. Hoping to see the aurora Borealis. Not holding my breath though.

Till next time.

I still feel that way a little bit, but I guess I’ll force myself to write something because this 4 pound bottle of wine is starting to work its magic. On that topic, my couple of weeks of comfortable living are at a close. It was a couple of the best weeks of my life. I spent a wonderful week with my mother having conversations over dinner and looking at priceless pieces of art. There were even some incidents of waiters and others thinking we were a couple which was rather comical.

I’m in a state of suspension right now… or at least I feel that way. I don’t know how I feel about going around the world by myself. It’s a little scary because I’m realizing more and more that I’m a homebody who is most content to have a comfortable little room, an internet connection and a 4 pound bottle of wine. I enjoy normalcy and peace and quiet and being alone. Sure wandering around is nice, but I like it in locales that I am familiar with in order to investigate it further. You know… notice the details.

Having said that, I know I need to force myself to expand. I need more entropy in order to impose order upon it. The more order I have within my person the more sense I make to myself. It’s an interesting cycle. I need the disorder to create the order and since I enjoy large amounts of order and peace I need to invest in more disorder. I guess I am looking forward to all this after all for the benefits that will arise later on in my life.

And now I will descend into boring, annoying self-investigatory indulgence.

I feel like I’m learning about myself being away from everything I know. I recognized this before when I went off to college all alone, but I had a family support network back then, and I immediately reached out for friends that I could latch onto. This time around I have nothing, and I haven’t run screaming to attach myself to the nearest person. I thought previously that I was the kind of person that always needed someone around them in order to survive and to exist, but I think I’m learning to rely on myself a little more which is nice.

I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m happy. It might be the wine talking, but I’m happy.

So now that I’ve gone through a complete cycle of near-depressed uncertainty to self-assured bliss I think I’ll just leave off there. Sorry I don’t really have anything interesting to say in this post. Maybe some other interesting things will happen to me, or I’ll see something on the internet that pisses me off. Who knows what the future holds?

I leave for Stockholm tomorrow at 1745 tomorrow. Stay there for 4 days. Go to Oslo on the 27th stay there for 2 days. Go to Bergen on the 30th stay there for 5 or six days. Take the ferry on the 3rd back to newcastle. Stay there a night then go to Glasgow for two days. Catch a flight back home to flo mo for a bit. Did I mention I’m going back home? Probably not, but I am. I feel like it’s a little bit of a frightened retreat, but when I think about going home I look forward to it. I also think I still have some issues to resolve with Flower Mound, maybe my escapades will provide me with a fresh perspective.

Ramble ramble ramble.

Next time something interesting, I promise.

I decided to draw a comic to keep everyone mildly entertained. Consider this my apology for going on and on about stuff. It’s the last one you’ll get though, so… suck it up.

The event didn’t actually happen like that, but it was pretty close. I actually did end up buying a card for 2 pound 50, but I figured it was worth it. I’m avoiding walking home on that path now though… She was shaping up to be so cool too. Oh well, I guess you have to make some kind of living as an artist.

In other news: I’m getting ready to go on my 6 week spring break. I have a ticket and a hostel all lined up for Stockholm and Oslo and Bergen… Then I’ll be taking a ferry down to Denmark and going through Germany and Austria and maybe Prague… I haven’t decided yet. Then I’ll manage to get back home somehow. My parents will be coming up for a couple of weeks as well. It should be a grand ol’ time.

I also forgot to mention in my last tirade that I survived a super powerful, 4.9 magnitude earthquake. Terrifying. Well, I would write more, but the pubs call. Maybe I’ll come back and add some more while intoxicated.

So being the forum troll that I am I came across a little video which depicts a US Marine throwing a puppy off of a cliff.

Notice all of the media attention this is receiving… CNN, associated press, even a reward for $1000 reward “TO ANYONE WHO BEATS THE CRAP OUT OF THIS MARINE.” And just in case you didn’t know, caps lock is a signifier for people who have their head really, really far up their own asses. If you can’t tell, my blood has begun to boil over this, and no, my ire is not directed at the marine for throwing the dog off the cliff: it’s at the American people for, once again, jumping on a media bandwagon decrying some inane ethical affront that, most probably, they are complicit to, or directly involved in, every day. Not to mention the fact that everyone is ignoring the real problem at the heart of all of this, but I’ll get to that in a minute…

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am by no means condoning this kind of behavior. I think animal cruelty is abhorrent and wrong from an ethical standpoint, but at the same time I can’t help but realize that I, too, a middle class white male who would never harm an animal with my own hands, am involved in the torture and abuse of animals. And guess what? So are most of us. Of course, if you’re shouting: “BUT WHERE’S THE PROOF?!” like some shit flinging monkey who can’t grunt out a coherent argument:

Bam. Right there, and I dare each and every one of you who read this to sit through that entire movie then come bark at me about how high minded your righteous cause is. The only way you would be in the right on this one is if you’re a hippy, hemp-wearing, vegan, but even then you probably smell really bad and it would be difficult for me to talk to you anyway.

Now I agree that this case is completely different from eating animals for food, and I agree that this is a malicious, unprovoked act, but once again I think that everyone is missing the irony in this video. Take a look at the setting that this little melodrama takes place in. Anything familiar?

The soldiers are in what looks to be Iraq. Yes, the very same place where 3,974 of our own soldiers have died. The same place where there are estimates of 81,632-89,103 civilian deaths. Now sit back and compare this to one video of a puppy being thrown off a cliff. Perhaps we should spend another countless billions of dollars to give digital cameras to each and every Iraqi citizen so they can post videos of their brother dying from an accidental bombing of a residential area… or maybe their mother… or maybe their mother and their sister. Take your fucking pick. Sure, they’re probably not nearly as cute and innocent looking as a puppy, but I guess human lives just aren’t as valuable these days. Even if those videos did make it back to the states we would all probably turn a blind eye and say, “Oh, I can’t watch that. It’s just too gruesome.” Out of sight out of mind.

Now I’d like to make a couple of psychological assumptions as to why these soldiers did this. Let it be known that I have no formal education what so ever in psychology or sociology or any of those -ologies that might make my ramblings sound a little more reputable. Having given those details above on how many people have been killed in the war, I’d like everyone to consider what SEEING these deaths might do to a person. If you answered “desensitize,” congratulations, you get a big steaming pile of cynicism and horrific, repressed memories. Keeping this in mind, I’d like everyone to think about what is going on in the minds of these troops who are rotated out through a revolving door in what seems like an endless waking nightmare of horror and gore. If they’ve seen PEOPLE be destroyed, meaninglessly mind you, this war is NOT stabilizing the region to anyone’s great surprise, but that is a completely different rant, what makes anyone in their right minds think that these men, witnesses to countless lives swept away and forgotten, would even consider being kind to an animal?

I have a really hard time believing that this man would have done anything like chucking a puppy off a cliff before going to that god-forsaken place. Who knows… maybe he did it so he would get in trouble and have to come back home for a court martial? If so, then it’s a good thing that he threw that puppy off the cliff. The sacrifice of that puppy might have saved a life. Of course, I’m taking this all lightly now, but for God’s sake people, don’t berate this man just because you think certain cute animals have more right to life than humans. Focus on what’s really important. People are dying and you idiots care about one fucking puppy.

In actuality, I think it’s our own fault that that puppy is dead. Our rampant consumerist lifestyle and our big-headed, macho desire to subjugate people to the glory that is “democracy” and “freedom” has landed us in this mess. We elected and RE-ELECTED the fuckwads that started and perpetuated this… now we’re reaping the benefits. If we knew what horror was… If we knew and understood what these people are going through daily before we had marched our bible thumping asses into a shitstorm… well…

There’d be one more puppy alive today.

Jesus christ I’m pissed off now.

A lot has happened recently, but I think it’s most important to begin with the fact that I’m going to be seeing Radiohead in June in Dublin. I will be able to officially check off one of the things I want to do before I die… unless something comes along to fuck it up which is a distinct possibility. I guess I should stay optimistic about it though just so I’ll be able to get over there. Damnit, I’ll swim if I have to.

In other news: I spent Saturday in London. I meant to go down on Friday evening, but being the lazy bum that I am I decided that it would be more exciting to sit in my room, read and play Roller Coaster Tycoon 2. Don’t get me wrong I had a good time, but I’m sure that I should have taken advantage of the opportunity to explore London. I could branch off in so many different directions with just those two sentences… I’m unsure of which way to go with this. I guess I’ll start off with the simplest. I’m in desperate need of a internet multiplayer video game right now. I want to gloat supreme over faceless people whom I will never know as I administer digital justice to their noob asses. Of course this is assuming that I’d have any sort of skills after this long, long break. Maybe I’ll pick up old school counterstrike or TFC classic.

Moving on to London, I arrived via bus, which is a pleasant way to travel. I got to sit up on the top level and got a beautiful view of the English countryside. I’m realizing how big of a sucker I am for the rolling, hilly landscapes. I wanted to get out and just wander around the green pastures, maybe converse with a couple of sheep. It also made me miss Texas a little bit, surprising I know. There’s just something so wonderfully infinite about the seemingly endless and seamless land that has to merge with the horizon at some point. You start to feel confused about which realm you really belong to: the earth or the sky. What an interesting mentality we’re born with. Obsessed with possibilities and unknowns and infinites. You can almost destroy yourself and everything around you with that sort of mentality.

I’ve been feeling a lot more upbeat about how humanity is conducting itself recently, which is strange for me. I thought about it for a while as I wandered around Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park for a couple of hours. I think it has something to do with the mind crushing amount of history and tradition that Britain and Europe has going for it. America seems to be obsessed with driving forward into that infinite expanse and conquering it. We have to create an order to the chaos, harness that infinite and subject it to our wills so we can continue looking outward and upward with better tools that allow us to see further and further. It’s a vicious cycle, and I think it had a lot to do with my fear of losing any and all semblance of humanity in the monster of technology that we’re creating. This isn’t to say that I’m against progress or anything like that. I’m a victim of being in love with the infinite as well, and there’s something fascinating about the power of technology and how we’re binding it to ourselves. I guess I’m just afraid of the type of life we would lead afterwards? Would it be life? Certainly not as we know it.

Anyway, I feel a little out of place in Britain because that drive to conquer and subjugate seems to be lacking here. It’s all I’ve known up until this point and actually living in a place where it’s not the priority has taken some getting used to. However, there’s times when I’m wandering around here and I feel completely at peace like the world could just spin away and I wouldn’t be missed, and I wouldn’t miss the spins. Everyone seems content here to just live. Maybe it’s because they’ve already done all that. Ruling the world would get a little tiresome I guess. Somebody should tell Cheney and the rest of the guys for the Project for a New American Century. We could learn something from the past. That’s what it is. The British have a profound respect for the past and they’re smart enough not to repeat the same mistakes. Then again maybe I’m wrong and have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about which is much more likely.

Moving right along, I met up with a friend and visited the Victoria and Albert museum to investigate just how much past it takes to crush one’s mind. There is an absurd amount of stuff in that place. It’s hard to even really appreciate any of it because you become so desensitized to everything around you.

“Oh, look, another priceless work of profound art from the renaissance whose equal will never again be known… What’s over here?”

I was looking at original tapestries of Raphael’s cartoons for god’s sake. Didn’t bat an eyelash.

What’s over here?

After that we went and visited the Parliament buildings and marveled at the huge amount of security and the opulence of the buildings. We talked about what kind of person you would need to be to get into that place, and no sooner did we finish our sentence did a black guy come out wearing leopard print pants and an addidas track jacket. I guess the ambassador of Pimpistan is worthy of being admitted. Golly what a racist I am.

I had to get back to my hotel to change for the booze cruise we were going to be attending. I didn’t mention that did I? Yes, we went on a booze cruise. My hotel was in a really nice part of town that I think would be about equal to the north side of Chicago. It was in Notting Hill, but all I could think about when I heard that name was the movie that I never saw. It was a nice place in any case.

So the booze cruise had a James Bond theme, so in the true spirit of costume parties I wore a suit. Some people got really creative and were anonymous henchmen etc. There was karaoke and a dance party and overpriced drinks that I paid for anyway. It was a grand ol’ time, and I met some really cool and interesting people that I’d like to hang out with again. I also got an honorable mention for best Bond costume, and was even told that I looked a little like Shaun Connery. Hm. Does that make me a badass?

Afterwards we tried to find something in the city that closes way too early for poor people. Pubs close at 11pm and the underground closes at midnight. We could have gone to clubs which are open until 2am, but we would need to pay a cover charge and 5 pounds for a drink and I’m just not into that. Oh, and I loathe clubs. So instead I bought a cheap bottle of wine for 6 pounds and my friends bought some beers and we sat on a monument in Trafalgar Square, which is where the South African and Canadian embassies are, and I opened my wine bottle with a girl’s high heel and we drank and watched a man pee on the monument and a couple behind us practically have sex. It was one of those moments that I felt alive and at peace. We burned and sparked in the late winter fog of midnight London.

Brilliant.

Well, this is an inordinately long post. I guess I’ll get back to reading Dickens.

It feels weird to not rail against anything… Hmm… Well, I guess I could say fuck off and get a clue to the Project for a New American Century cockbags. Right here you tossers t(‘.’t)

Oh and viva la internet (aka the Overmind). I’ll talk about that one at some other time because it’s just another of those things I’ve been thinking about.