We’re in the car:

ren: My fiance thinks she might have breast cancer…

me: shit.

a rather long awkward silence ensues.

me: It isn’t a death sentence nowadays, don’t worry i’m sure she’s fine. Is she waiting for the results?

ren: yeah, they come out in about a week.

me: Well there’s always the obvious benefit.

ren: what?

me: you know…

ren: there’s nothing fucking beneficial about breast cancer.

me: come on, don’t tell me you havn’t thought about it. Just a C cup?

ren: I never thought about that you sick fuck.

We start singing Sir Mix-A-Lot with the clever substitution of “tits” instead of “butts”. Good times.

I’m a little confused with the whole Middle East problem.

There’s practically a holy consensus right now that the war in the North is a just war and that morality is on our side. The bitter truth must be said: this holy consensus is based on short-range selective memory, an introverted worldview, and double standards.

Morality is not on our side

This war is not a just war. Israel is using excessive force without distinguishing between civilian population and enemy, whose sole purpose is extortion. That is not to say that morality and justice are on Hezbollah’s side. Most certainly not. But the fact that Hezbollah “started it” when it kidnapped soldiers from across an international border does not even begin to tilt the scales of justice toward our side.

If you’re a little confused about the unfolding events. Who has beef with who. Click here.

Bright Eyes – Landlocked Blues

She’s cute, not least because the webcam is wayward. I was actually watching it because I was listening to Sigur ros.

I spoke to Houss a couple of days ago. Turns out he’s in bloody Austria teaching some kids English for a fortnight. He tells me he got the job from Paul, the guy we did the CELTA with. I give him my mobile number with the strong addage that he must, oh how he must, get me a job. Today I recieve a text asking whether i’m free to leave this weekend. Let’s hope this doesn’t fall through.

And if I do actually get the job, how do I teach? What was the 3rd conditional? Gerunds?

Martin’s 19th tomorow[sic]. A pretty girl on MySpace added me via him. She’s got the angles though, i’m scared. Fear the angles.

Me, circa 2002. Nowadays, you can’t have big hair, nor can you smile.
So I have in the envelope:

• 4 Passport Photo’s
• 1 Birth Certificate
• 1 Photocopy of the lost Passport
• 1 Passport Application Form
• 1 LS01 Lost Passport Form
• Signature from a Teacher saying I really am who I am

But no. My head is too large. My hair clips the outside of the transparencies. School’s closed. I want to cry. Even after I get that sorted out I have to find the letter that states why my parents were deemed British. I want to ask them, but I doubt they know.

because atheism is a crutch for the weak

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(-) (-)

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PBUH

Gem of the day:

If the Queen commits suicide, god forbide; would she be commiting treason?

Deep shit kids.

She’s nice.

bonus points to the connoisseur who can name her and the movie.

To be honest it was quite unexpected. The tale tale sign is the double space after the full stop – only a gay would even contemplate doing that. What annoyed me though was how he chose to do it. For a start he didn’t go all the way. Oh, i’m only bisexual. Secondly he chose to pussy foot around the fucking subject. This is the internet. You’re writing on a blog. People have short attention spans. Eight words or less per line. Fucker.

Now if I was to come out, this would be it:

I hope people don’t judge me. If they do, they can suck my dick. I like that type of thing. I’m gay. I like it up the pooper. Being gay has many advantages; you’ve got your glory holes and all the promiscous sex you can take before bursting. Literally.

I met a man last night. We made hot passionate sex all night. I feel used.

Instead of:

I’m never really sure who exactly visits my site regularly, or who even reads this blog. I’m not going to make out that you must be really bored to have got this far, because quite clearly all you have to do is give a toss and then its quite easy. Though as Mike said earlier this week, it is a bit self-watevering. Ego trip or something. Which is why I try to include odd rants rather than list what I did, I don’t know if you care about that stuff anyway. Yes I suppose it is, but there are other reasons for doing it, which have been mentioned in previous blogs. Anyway, god I’m writing about my own blog now. There has to be something wrong with that. The probable reason why I’m doing this is the fact I am trying my hardest to avoid/delay what will come up in the rest of this paragraph. Which is completely stupid really considering the generall reaction of the four people to whom reading this next bit would come as no surprise, though yet again not even sure if they all read this. Basically if I stop writing know I known that I will simply delete this paragraph and go on with life. Still stalling. Anway basicallly what needs to be said is that I think you should all know that I am bisexual. Basically putting it up on this webspace, is kind of a cop-out from telling people face to face, whcih frankly is quite scary. Stupid I know. I apologise to anyone who feels they shoudl have been told earlier, but thats the way it goes. Hmm, this is a public space too, accessable from facebook aswell – guess its out in the open just as soon as I hit publish. I’ve never denied it anyway. Its just you guys’ fault for assuming too much!!! (see my profile for more details). I have no idea who reads this, but basically I reckon if you do read this blog then you care at least to some extent. Thanks to the four people who know who they are, support has been much appreciated where it has come, and general ignoring has been less helpful but still reassuring.

I don’t usually fancy actresses in old movies. The fact that their grandmothers or dead in real life is usually off putting. But she’s adorable.

I enjoy observing people. I can sit in a cafe with some coffee and cigarettes and stare out into the midst quite content. I find people fascinating. Those who usually pique my interest most often have a quirk about them, be it their; sexuality, creed or demeanor. Tramps, queers, loners, geeks. To quench my thirst I’d come up with small ways to make general conversation like not buy a lighter. Not only does it fill the loneliness with small talk but means you smoke less.

At a loss for new ideas, I came up with the bright idea to sign on. To sign on; the dole, the UB40, Giro, welfare, claiming benefits, being a parasite to society. Here I would see the dregs of society, doing what they’re despised for. The problem was, somewhere along the way, their lifestyle became somewhat appealing.

Half jokingly I entered the grotty building up in Kingston and went to the welcome desk. After a 20min informal chat she booked an appointment and off I went. Quite scared I wasn’t entitled to sign on, being a fit 18 year old who’d just finished formal education, I insisted that she check my eligibility. I eagerly waited, half wanting to be rejected so as not to cheat the state out of it’s coffers. No No, she insisted. Another session of informal chats and I was on.

The room wasn’t how I imagined it. The people were. You’d see the woman feigning injury boisterously demanding her god given right, the father avoiding eye contact, eyes nailed to the floor and those of colour keeping to themselves. My dad reads the Daily Mail, being an easy read and without the long words or titillation that the papers it straddles entails. My preconceptions were therefore, lines of asylum seekers, eyes with glee as they received their weekly spend. In reality it was quite the opposite.

Signing on is ridiculously easy. I’m a full supporter for a welfare state but it’s too tempting to stay like this and claim. I’d like to say i’ll get a job and repay my debt to society as fast as possible, but realistically i’ll spend my time studying so I can jet off to Vietnam and teach English.

I’m on £44.50 a week. I sign on every two weeks on a Monday at 11:40 opposite the 99p store. I write this in the hope that people will come and stone me. I deserve it.