The Thoughts of a Viking Mind

A Brouhaha over a HooHa, And Other Stories

2007-02-09T03:08:00.000-08:00

Currently Listening: Tenacious D In The Pick Of Destiny
Currently Watching: Scrubs
Currently Thinking: If this is all there is, then what's the point?

Hi there.

It’s been an awful long time since I’ve stopped here to post my thoughts on this lovely little website. It’s kind of disappointing, because at the beginning of this year I had decided that I was going to be here a lot more, and maybe actually make this little part of the internet worthwhile.

The economics of blogging is a staggering subject. Apparently, someone starts a blog every 30 seconds. So why on earth would you want to read mine? My little page of rants and hopes and fears?

Probably because you know me. Maybe it’s my acerbic wit. Maybe you think I’m a wanker. I don’t know, and if the truth be told I don’t want to know.

Anyway, I have now purchased myself a shiny new Macintosh Computer, and therefore I’ll be here more regularly.

I’ve been trying to think of things to write about. And here’s my inspiration – the Metro. I think, for the foreseeable future at least, I’ll focus on one news story of the day and give you my take on it.

So here we go.

I want to talk about something special. Something important. Something beautiful. Do you know what I’m talking about?

I’ll tell you. It’s one word:

VAGINA.

n. pl. va·gi·nas or va·gi·nae (-nē)
Anatomy
The passage leading from the opening of the vulva to the cervix of the uterus in female mammals.
A similar part in some invertebrates.
Botany
A sheathlike structure, such as the leaf of a grass that surrounds a stem.

Is that so disgusting? Is it such a horrible word that you can’t bear to look at it? Or do you want to burn your computer screen, and throw it out of the window and never, ever think about it again? I know I don’t. So, yes, it can sound clinical, and no-one in the history of the world has ever, ever, used it as a purpose for talking dirty (“feel my hot, wet Vagina!”).

And this, as you may have suspected, leads us to America, and the subject of today’s lecture. Now then, me being me, I have thrown the paper away, but I’m sure the story still exists on the interwebs somewhere. The crux of it is this – in some small, back-water, blindly Christian town in Alabama, a production of ‘The Vagina Monologues’ is taking place. But they’ve changed the name. To what?

The HooHa Monologues.

I shit you not. Why? A lady made a complaint about the use of the word ‘Vagina’ in the poster.

Using the word Vagina in a poster for a production of ‘The Vagina Monologues’?? Won’t somebody please think of the Children?

Which is, ironically, exactly where the complaint comes from. Apparently, a lady walked past a poster for the play when her child asked her ‘Mommy, what’s a Vagina?’, and she had to suffer the ‘indignity and embarrassment’ of explaining to her daughter what a HooHa is. This, in turn, led the theatre to change the title in the poster.

So let’s get some things straight here. The mother thought is was undignified and embarrassing to explain to her daughter what a Vagina was. And that she had one. Has America come this far?

I do, of course, ask this of a country where Evolution is banned from being taught in the majority of states, whereas creationism is blindly accepted. But back to the point, if there is such disgust over using a perfect, biological term for a part of the human body, what hope have we got? Telling your daughter what a Vagina is won’t make her get out there and start using it. If she has a healthy and educated attitude, then she should be empowered (oh, Christ, have I turned feminist?) when she is older by having comfort in her body and knowing how it works. The way to develop a healthy attitude towards sex, sexuality and above all sexual health is to be open and honest with our Children when they ask us questions about their bodies and what they do. I guarantee that the kids won’t go and start breeding like rabbits, because they will have the knowledge and sensibility not to.

Equate it to this. Remember when you were in college – the kids who went out and got so drunk they couldn’t stand on a Friday night were the ones to whom alcohol had been a taboo subject growing up.

Of course, this in no way precludes the behaviour of teenagers, we all got drunk and had sex – I’m just saying if you had the right attitude towards it you can at least approach your life with a modicum of sanity.

So back to the question: ‘Mommy, what’s a Vagina’?

I would suggest the correct answer is not ‘It’s a filthy thing and we will never talk of this again’!

I’d hate to see what happens when a tampon advert comes on in that house. “Periods are… The work of the DEVIL!!”

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We’re getting dumber. And, as usual, America is leading the charge.

But be warned – us Brits with all our education and our sensibilities and our erstwhile effective gun laws – are not far behind.

I want to close this with something very adult, and not at all Childish:

Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina, Vagina¸ Vagina¸ Vagina¸ Vagina, Vagina¸ Vagina!

Other acceptable body parts:

Penis
Vulva
Clitoris
Testicle
Scrotum
Foreskin
Urethra
Labia

That’s just a few. I hope some right wing Americans read this!

Chris Jensen – Scourge of Dumb People Everywhere! Where is your ‘God’ now??

Love,

Chris

X x x

Me vs Michael Jackson

2006-11-16T09:48:00.000-08:00

Hello!

It's me again... Hitting you with my opinions! Blowing out cheese since daddy started bringing home the bacon!

And stuff like that.

It's a stealth post today. STEALTH. Under the radar, like.

It was the World Music Awards last night. And hundreds of millions of Michael Jackson fans queued in the cold to get a glimpse of their waxen hero.

He walked past with barely a glance.

Then, during the awards ceremony, the fans who were lucky enough to have tickets to get inside jeered and booed the other acts that were on (although, to be fair, one act was Beyonce) if they ran a couple of seconds over, as it was delaying their precious Michael.

And finally, on he came. With a choir of (fittingly) FIFTY children. His point, I imagine, was "Look! I'm on a stage with fifty children and I'm not probing ANY of their anuses! Not a drop of Jesus Juice in sight!" or something like that.

Here's the kicker. After TEN years without performing in the UK, he sang TWO POXY lines from a song that has ALWAYS been shite, and he didn't even moonwalk.

MJ fans paid £100 for this privelige.

My question is this: Why? Why do you people still like this guy who constantly takes the piss out of you? It takes about 3 seconds to sing 2 lines of song: you're paying him £33.33 per second! Why would you line up in the cold to watch the damp streak of piss hang around like a... a... well, a (alleged) paedophile in a playground?

Michael Jackson has been SHIT for AT LEAST ten years. I can already hear you lot, who are blinded by loyalty, saying "he's the king of pop!" or some other whiny nonsense - NO. This stops, here. He is NOT the king of pop. He's not even a good showman any more. He's never been that much of a songwriter. JOHN LANDIS made his biggest hit - and that was only through the video! You want to know where your 'king' is now? Buying shirts from FUCKING BHS!!

Well, that's it. There's certain levels to which even I won't stoop. And BHS is one of them.

But having said that, I've never dangled my child from a balcony, I've never (allegedly) bummed little boys, and I've never hung out with Phillip Green.

So what would I know.

Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that if Michael Jackson wants to make this 'comeback' then he needs to stop treating his fans like cunts.

That is all, I'm sure this will inspire some vitriolic ramblings - notably from Akash.

Peace and Love!

xxx

Shameless Plug vs Not Much at All

2006-10-10T01:53:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

Just a quick post from me... I am putting up a work in progress here on Blogger, and would appreciate it very much if people would pass by it occasionally and see how it's coming on!

It's a Novel (or at least I hope it will be) - and you can find it at www.augustandtheorderofdragons.blogspot.com!

And now...

*Away!*

Me vs North Korea

2006-10-09T06:06:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day: Walkie Talkie Man - Stereogram

Word of the Day: Harumph

Sound of the Day: Kaboom!

Hello all.

Yes, it’s been a long, long time, and I know you’ve all missed me, but there we are. It’s a shamefully tragic fact of life that, most of the time, you can’t have what you want. But, so it is said, you’ve gotta try. Try and try. Try and try. You’ll succeed at last.

Thanks to Mick Jagger for the lyrics.

So I’m back, like a prodigal thingy, hopefully with more opinions and drivel than ever before. I have no excuse for being so quiet, dear friends, other than the new job keeps me busier than a Japanese Prisoner of War, and that the distinct lack of internet at Chez Jensen was a contributing factor. However, the seven-month itch at work has taken hold, I now have the INTARWEB at home, and suddenly my blogging fingers are back.

What’s been happening of late? Well, to summarise the last few months, Llew got married, I got a girlfriend, the summer came and went and Tony Blair teased us all by saying he’d retire the Premiership.

And we’re all surprised that he hasn’t. Not to get in to a political rant – but His Toniness doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for being honest, does he?

45 MINUTES, MAN!!

Hmm. Best move on.

Realisation dawned recently. Realisation that I, Chris Jensen, have lost out on an awful lot of money. An awful lot.

“How?” I hear you cry “What have you not done?”

I shall tell you, dear reader. Starting from the first of this month, I've kept every email from former African dictators, dodgy Nigerian oil executives, dispossessed Zimbabwean farmers and - a new one this - US Marines smuggling out their Iraqi war loot and totted up how much I'd get if each and every one of these honest-to-goodness internet entrepreneurs came good on their promises of filthy lucre.A mere five days into the project, the current total is: £158,188, 455, so I can safely say, at this stage in the game, that this time next year Rodders, we'll be billionaires.

Hmm. Moving on again for the second time already.

Colin moves out in December. I’m looking forward to it, but I don’t know who the hell is going to move in in his place… So if anybody knows anyone who’s willing to move in to my flat (with me) (but not WITH me) then please let me know!

So it was a good weekend, all told. I have discovered several things such as:
- I’m old. Official like. Went clubbing on Friday and, at the age of 26, I was one of the oldest people in there.
- The night bus is still weird.
- Hamley’s on a Saturday is like the Seventh Circle. Only worse.
- My girlfriend is great.
- Even in my advanced years, I sometimes have to sleep with the light on.
- Jensen and the Jensenettes win the Heathcote Arms Pub Quiz for the second time running. We have the best General Knowledge in Leytonstone! Although, that really isn’t saying much!

It’s all over the news today that North Korea has finally flown in the face of international pressure and tested its first nuclear weapon. The size of the weapon they tested is unknown – but is estimated to be between 550 tons and 15 Kilotons of destructive power (at its largest, about the size of the Hiroshima Bomb). Now, I’ve been doing some reading in to this. Analysts say that, even though the North Koreans may have been able to develop weapons-grade uranium, they may not actually have a payload that could deliver it (we’ve discussed this before – ‘Deliver’ being a military term for ‘Drop the fucking thing on (enter enemy here)’).

What? Well what’s the fucking point in testing the fucking thing, then? This is the military equivalent of saying to someone a lot bigger than you: “Come over here and say that, you huge Visigoth Wanker!”

What we all need to remember is this: Even if the North Koreans HAVE developed a payload that could deliver a warhead, the likelihood of it going any further than Pyongyang is highly dubious. Further to that, assuming that they have, in fact, been able to Enrich enough Uranium-235 (and this is subsequent to the Uranium being a) mined, b) converted to ‘Yellow Cake’, and c) converted to Uranium Hexafluoride) they will have to build a sodding great Nuclear Processing Plant to make the damn stuff.

Unless they will reprocess what is left over from the enrichment process and make a Plutonium bomb, which can be made in a pretty inconspicuous looking building and is a helluva lot simpler to construct (it’s a widely held belief/knowledge that it wouldn’t take a great deal of difficulty to acquire (ha - even for a terrorist) Plutonium from Civil Nuclear Reactors (there’s 400 on the planet accounting for 17% of global energy) – and less than scientific ability to construct the bare bones of a warhead that could explode with the force of “100 tonnes of Dynamite – more than 20 times the force of the largest terrorist bomb attack to date” (Source, BBC).

The point I’m making is this – There’s always going to be some power crazed dictator (in this case Kim Jong-Il, and make no mistake about this, he is a dictator) who is going to start wanting to chuck things that go bang at other people. All the gumpf about this test bringing “happiness to our people” (North Korean statement) is, frankly, bollocks.

There’s a new world order, folks. When J. Robert Oppenheimer watched the first atomic bomb test he uttered the immortal line “I have become the destroyer of worlds.”

He may well have been right.

Because now George Dubbya almost certainly has his finger on the trigger. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad wants a trigger and is doing everything in his power to get one. Pakistan has nuclear capability. So does Russia. Hell, the second biggest nuclear arsenal on the planet belongs to the British.

Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?

Whoops. No comedy today, it seems. But hopefully something to start a debate.

Speak soon,

Chris

My Friends & Me

2006-06-27T05:28:00.000-07:00

I spoke to my dear friend Akash last night... It's so refreshing to talk to someone who actually listens to you, especially when that someone is a guy.

It's good to hear him centred. We talked a while, and he confessed he was doing his happy dance... That's what a friendship should be about, complete and utter honesty. The guy's like the fucking Dalai Lama. His levels of spirituality and ingenuity are something that I can only aspire to... His philosophy, perfect. And he doesn't walk around with his head stuffed up his own arse looking for the light switch.

I did fear for a while that he might have to go back home to South Africa... But I think things are looking up on that front.

I also spent some time speaking to Mum. It's not often we talk these days... well, we do, but it's not often we talk. So that was nice. She's a little less spiritual, but she's happy and God help her, she deserves it.

And then I spent a long time talking to Danielle. How blessed am I to have a girl like that in my life... someone who actually makes me smile, makes me laugh like a small child without fear of anything. It still surprises me that we can talk so much and never run out of things to talk about or say to each other. That's something pretty special, I reckon.

So that's me for today. I'm feeling lucky. I've got great (the best) friends. I've got DM. I've been in a good mood for an unprecedented 5 days in a row (which is pretty much unheard of in recent times), and things are going well.

I hope it's the same for all of you.

Peace,

Chris

Me & DM vs London!!!

2006-06-22T04:53:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day: End Over End - Foo Fighters

Album of the Day: Kill Your Own - Hundred Reasons

Huge Honourable Mention to: The Badger Queen, of course!

Equally Huge Honourable Mention to: Akash... My Dalai Lama. (seriously, his blog is www.akashom.blogspot.com. Go learn, mortal.)

Quote of the Day: "Yes, the Dinosaurs were killed off by Gingivitis."

Hello hello!

So, I recommend that you take a seat and maybe even get a long cold drink, because this is going to be a bumpy ride – and at no point do I want you to get left behind, faithful reader!

It’s taken me a while to get this posting up… And the reason for that is I’ve had a lot to digest and I wanted to do the whole of last weekend a decent amount of justice…

“Get to the damn point, Jensen!” I hear you cry.

Well, if you’d let me speak, I would.

“Sorry.”

That’s ok. Anyway, I had an absolutely amazing weekend of unparalleled joyousness! Yes, yes I did.

For this weekend my extra special super friend Danielle came to London for a weekend of Magical Joy and fun and laughter – the story of which is contained herein!

Friday

Friday arrived, bright and warm. Fresh from England falling over the hurdle of beating the mighty (sic) Trinidad and Tobago and a new haircut, I left the house full of the joys of spring. Or, at the very least, of early summer. To the Central Line, which promptly suspended itself.

This of course meant I had to fight the ignorant masses for a space on the bus, to get to Stratford, to get to Waterloo… Eventually about an hour late…

But what was I late for?

That’s right. The arrival of one of the specialest people on the planet. One Danielle Menage, or the Badger Queen to you. I snuck up on her in the train station, and it was here, at this point, that the weekend began!

After trekking all the way back to Leytonstone to dump Danielle’s bags of STUFF and THINGS, we headed off in to London, and our first destination:

The Natural History Museum!!

I’ve always loved this building – but sharing it with the Nage was truly special… I learnt a lot that day. For example – Skeleton Monkeys CAN fly, they had to nail the T-Rex to the floor to stop it from charging people, and that buttons are simply there to be pressed. Also, the biology section smells of disinfectant, and there is a huge floating baby of doom. Oh, and it was Gingivitis that killed off the Dinosaurs. Well, that or Cricket.

Nells bought a Dodo from the Gift Shoppe. “Hullo, I’m a Dodo. I’m exctinct”.

So yeah. We made some memories.

But for all the fun and joy – the Natural History Museum isn’t air conditioned. BALLS. And we were getting very hot indeed.

So off we wandered.

To where?

Seriously, if you don’t stop interrupting this story, I’m never going to finish it!

We went to the:

Tate Modern

They’ve just finished the re-hang here – and by golly it’s amazing. I’ve been there so many times it actually begets belief – but to finally go there with someone who appreciates and understands art was a true breath of fresh air.

I directed Danielle to the Rothko room – Rothko is her favourite artist – and was quite happy to sit there in silence, listening to her, while she talked about this genius painter, and what she did for her A-Level art, and how it scared people… It’s so inspiring to be with creative people, especially around a building like that.! And what meant so much to me was that she listened to my opinions on the art there, and that she would talk to me about it too.

I felt quite embarrassed at times – because I’m fascinated by the art of Architecture – and I truly am very deeply in love with London and its buildings – and to talk to someone else who is interested in that and talks to me about it…

Well that just made me soar above the clouds.

After a couple of hours in the Tate, we decided to wander home, where I cooked for Danielle and then took her to what I imagine was the most daunting part of the weekend… we went to the:

Heathcote Arms

Where Danielle was introduced to the Motley Crew known only as my friends – Adam (my younger, better looking brother (haha), Zoe, Colin and Tom. We played pool, we got drunk, we played a silly bowling game! AND Word Up!

This was all washed down by a long walk to the off licence to buy late, illegal booze, and then back to my flat.

It was a heavy night – but my friends loved the Nage and have all talked about her pretty much non-stop since. That was the most important thing to me – that they all got on! AND she’s yet to meet Akash and Llew! Crazy!!

So, to bed (well, Lounge Floor) with a heavy head… and then in to:

Saturday

So, Nelly decided it would be a good idea (after having gone to bed at 3.30am) to get up at 10 past 9 and destroy my peaceful slumber. Now, she’ll tell you that I woke her up – so shall we just leave it that we woke up each other?

OK, we will.

Anyway, after a couple of hours sitting on the sofa with fuzzy heads, watching cartoons and eating croissants with cheese and bacon, we showered and headed off to Central London with the sincere intention of going to the London Dungeon.

However, the hangover and the heat became to much on the Jubilee Line, so off we had to get. Timed quite nicely, actually, as we ended up in Canary Wharf where we were able to marvel at the architecture.

As a little aside – Canada Square may be the best example of why I love this city. Yes, it’s a centre of capitalism and economics – but damn it’s beautiful. It’s all clean lines and beautiful buildings. And you can stand amongst these skyscrapers… And number One is simply gorgeous.

Eventually, we got ourselves back on the tube and headed off to London Bridge to go to the Dungeon.

Where our plans were scuppered.

Because the London Dungeon costs about a million pounds to get in to and the Queues were MAHUSIVE. So off we wandered up to the Embankment, to have a go on the London Eye.

Similar story here, huge Queues. We’ll come back to it later.

So we walked along the Embankment to Charing Cross and up to Covent Garden, where we wandered around the shops and generally getting very excited at the prospect of Paul Frank and David & Goliath & Quiksilver stuff.

We sat outside a shop while Nelly ate an Ice Cream and basically put the world to rights. One of the things that I love about Danielle is that she tries to see every viewpoint in order to inform her opinion… So yeah, in your face Animal Rights people, and Abortion Activists – and Hunters!!!

ARGH! I forgot to tell you about the

AQUARIUM!

I’ve been wanting to go to the London Aquarium for Blady ages, and finally got the chance to go. We went because we both like fishes and it looked nice and cool and air conditioned, so we reckoned we were on to a winner – and we were! There were some really cool fish, and I heard over the tannoy:

“Come and see our Octopus lecture!”

So off we ran! And we found it – and I was stunned at the lack of knowledge about Octopi. I mean, I’m not a leading expert but I’m pretty damn sure that neither was the guy giving the lecture.

So off we went.

But the place Blady rocked, and we ran around, waving at the little wormy guys, the strange floating piranha fish and the SHARKS! SHARKS are cool and brilliant! And it also turned out we’d seen the same programme on the hunting habits of the Great White Shark on the Discovery Channel. Thumbs Up!

We had a second go at the London Eye but to no avail – we will book it online and try again, DM!!

And then back to my flat (via crap breakdance troupes and a really long walk), where we ate Pizza (and didn’t drink Super Bock), and stayed up until the wee small hours of the morning talking about music (damn, the girl has good taste in music) and songs and me reading the things I’ve wrote out to her and books and everything… And we also watched the Amazing film “The Boys” which was an embarrassing experience for me!

Before we went to bed (Danielle decided for some reason that she was going to sleep on my highly uncomfortable sofa) we played a bit of a word association game… And from now on I shall always link:

LEAF with POTATO.

And then to the land of nod – interspersed with being kicked by DM and her doing impressions of a mouse with a plastic bag.

Anyway,

SUNDAY

Broke, bright and warm. This would be the last day Nelly and I would spend together on this fantastic weekend.

We had to wake up early as I go to teach on Sundays, so up we got and off we went to Croydon.

It gets a bit hazy here as I was teaching and poor old Danielle sat outside waiting for me. But bless her for doing that.

I tried to get out as much as possible to see her, and ended up finishing at 3.30. I had the fantastic news that I would now have an extra 2 hours of Danielle – so we traipsed back to the flat where we ate big sandwiches, and funny little feta and herb things while watching Family Guy and generally Chilling Out!

And then I had to take DM to meet Terri in Newbury Park for their long journey home. I’m no good at goodbyes, so I grabbed a hug from DM and then yelled

“Go! Just Go!”

And then waited til the car drove past so I could wave her away.

When I got back to the flat I found that DM had left 2 fivers in my room to pay me back for some of the weekend – which she didn’t have to do! But that was sooo sweet of her – and has bought me lunch this week! So thanks DM, that really made me smile!

I can’t believe it’s

THURSDAY

Now, and it’s taken me so long to do this. I’ve been blown away – I had such a good weekend!! I don’t know what it is about Danielle – maybe it’s the fact she makes me smile and laugh, maybe it’s the fact we’ve got so much in common, maybe it’s the fact she’s just, well, Danielle… But it was an incredible weekend and a time I will never, ever forget. Unless dementia kicks in, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be my fault!

I’ll tie this up just by saying – Thanks, DM. Oh, and:

MAKING MEMORIES!!

Lots of love to all of you,

Chris x x x

Me vs Parsley vs Pope Benny

2006-06-07T10:20:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day: History - Funeral For A Friend

Album of the Day: Stadium Arcadium - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Word of the Day: Exponentially

Right.

I’m back and it’s rant mode GO.

Let’s get the shitty stuff out of the way first. I read in the paper today that there’s an initiative to help 20,000 people in London buy houses! Great news, or so you’d think. In fact, it’s helping 20,000 people who are on the waiting list for council accommodation make it easier to buy a place. So, it’s helping key workers. What about people who are NOT key workers who REALLY want to buy a house, or even a flat? Who’s helping us? No-one, that’s who. The base rate put upon us by the (good old) Bank of England is exponentially rising (quarter on quarter), with the result property prices are going up and up. Yes, of course there should be help for key workers to help them buy homes – I’m not questioning that – but the fact remains that young professionals are often priced out of the market and are forced to throw away vast amounts of cash on rent.

Which the Bank allows – which is odd when you consider that with my rent I could pay a fairly decent mortgage – but can’t get a mortgage for that amount.

All I want to do is buy a house. But with the crippling state the housing market is in at the moment, I can’t see it happening any time soon. My mother’s solution?

“Get a nice girlfriend and buy a house together?”

Oh, that’s handy mother. A real quick solution there.

Hmm. Shall we move on?

Point two of the day:

WHAT’S THE FUCKING POINT OF PARSLEY?

But enough about that, I think you’re all with me on this one.

This week, the Catholic Church has issued its (seemingly) yearly attack on Homosexuality, Same-Sex Marriage, Contraception, Abortion, Looking at People Funny and Farting.

Or, as I like to think of it, Pope Benedict’s New Nazi Party Manifesto. They may as well put “Are you queer? BURN IN HELL!”

Is it any wonder that hordes of people turn their back on the church year on year? There are homosexual Catholics out there who (I’m sure) would love dearly to be openly welcomed in to the fold rather than derided as outcasts. But then the spirit of inclusion hasn’t ever really been the Catholic thing, has it?

You do know that Pope Benny was a member of the Nazi youth?

I really won’t talk about religion any more.

Seriously though, what is the fucking point of Parsley?

I have only one more thing to say:

Dance as if no-one is watching you,
Sing as if on-one is listening,
Love like you have never been hurt.

Which is something I think we can all learn from.

Peace chickens, xCx

Honesty vs Integrity

2006-05-23T05:38:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day - Eskimo - Damien Rice

Album of the Day - Ideas Above Our Station - Hundred Reasons

Word of the Day - Inconceivable!

Quote of the Day - "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!"

Honorable mention to - Danielle, for honesty - the greatest gift a person can give.

Hey there,

Do you ever wish that you had a decent forum? A decent place to air your views? A place where you can speak in freedom, without fear of prejudice, without fear of persecution? A place where you can rant, rave, talk in tongues, love, hate, extrapolate, theorise, globalise, monopolise, unify, quantify, magnify or JUST FUCKING SHOUT YOUR IDEAS OUT SO EVERYONE CAN HEAR??

Ah, you do. Welcome, then. I'm glad you found us.

Today... Today I am mostly pissed off, and it's an emotion that is currently showing no signs of abating. Why am I pissed off? What am I pissed off with. Well, he's sat here typing on a keyboard... That's right, it's me!

The last few days no matter how hard I've tried to do everything in my life right - whatever I've touched or attempted has gone to absolute bollocks... I speak inreference to work. I've been here three months (nearly), and I haven't made anywhere near the impact I was planning to. I've had wins, and I've had successes, of course - and I'm so much happier than I was in my old job - but I feel like I'm consistently letting myself down... I'm my own worst critic I suppose...

Before I move on - advice for you all. Sometimes, it's better to take the plunge and put your feelings out there - because I've learnt over the last few years that there's no point in sitting on top of everything, hoping that the thing you want to happen will happen - because it won't if you just wait for it. And you never know - when you lay yourself out on that line, while you're at your most vulnerable, you might hit the jackpot.

At the very worst - you'll discover there might have been a good reason you did that in the first place - you might realise why you have so much respect for that person. Why you know that in whatever form, having that person in your life is a true blessing. And you'll also realise that their honesty, their bravery in being transparent with you - is why you began to have contact with them in the first place.

And you know what? You should bloody well thank that person for that. Because so many people will just lie to you to keep you happy. So many people will be two faced, and laugh about you behind your back. It takes true strength of character to be honest with someone you're afraid of hurting. Just remember that.

And that is why I'm not angry at you. You know who you are. I'm glad we're still friends.

And to the rest of you - take heed. Sometimes what you don't want to hear is the right thing to hear...

It's not like someone shat in your cereal, is it?

I think I'm going to leave it here for today. I don't have any songs, I don't have any funny stories - just a whole load of work related pressure an five minutes of lunchtime yet...

Lunch... I remember that... Involved eating, didn't it?

Remember always, I love you all. each in your own special way!

Peace,

Chris

New Stuff vs Not Much

2006-05-17T09:17:00.000-07:00

Afternoon, all!

Just swinging by to introduce my new work. It's called 'No Sound'. Enjoy. It has been described by my dear friend Akash as being like "Shakespeare getting it on with John Nash before he lost the plot" - which is a pretty big endorsement.

So here it is, 'No Sound':

Where is the fire that burned your fingers, boy?
How did you find that Flame and
Tire your heart?
When did you feel like flying so badly
That you jumped at the cloud?
I perceive your melancholy shackles
That held you down
All broke up in iron-clad memory
There's no way back for you now
I will grab your frozen shoulders
"Why'd you leave us here?"
Why do I have to pretend that it's ok?
Doesn't that mean I am
Only riding your intensity?

Well, I guess you found your peace in the ground
And there is no sound
Yet we're still screaming!

Hey girl, where's your shocking individuality?
Or your sense of
Strained hypocrisy?
Why d'you need to find your solace
In your inability to shine?
I can see your small heart shaking
Yet too tough to break
We're caught up in violent memory
Why're you kissing me?
I will pull your
Ripped-up T-shirt
"Are you listening?"
Do you have to cry in
Your own scarred palms?
Does it bother you that
You know me?

Well, I guess you found your life in a refraction of yourself
And there is no sound
Yet we're still screaming!

**

Oh, and I just wanted to say - UP THE GUNNERS!!

Peace.

Chris x x

Stonehenge vs Wardour Castle (Or Why my Weekend was Better than Yours!)

2006-05-15T10:21:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day: The Pot – Tool

Album of the Day: New Adventures in Hi-Fi – R.E.M

Thought of the Day: “There is an advantage to always being right – you never have to change your mind” – JK Galbraith

Hello!

For those of you that are still talking to me, that is. For the rest of you, welcome back to my comforting and fuzzy folds. We missed you. Come in. Put your feet up. Not there. That’s better. Tea? How many sugars? Milk?

Good. Now then, doesn’t that feel better?

So, what’s been happening? What did you do this weekend?

Well, I can tell you one thing. You sure as hell didn’t have as good a weekend as me!

That’s right, folks – I had another weekend of greatness! But why? Calm down, I’m about to tell you!

I went to Dorset on Saturday. And while I was in Dorset, I once again had the opportunity to spend the day with someone who I rate incredibly highly. You’ve probably guessed it already – I went to hang out with Danielle.

So, my journey began early morning in East London. I left the house at 9am to scorching sunshine – so Jensen, being English, puts shorts on (probably the first mistake of the weekend) – and then began the frankly epic journey across London and down to Salisbury. Arriving about quarter to one, I was picked up by missy M in what can only be described as a brilliant car, and we went and grabbed THE BEST sausage rolls I have EVER eaten (and I know my sausage rolls, thank you very much), and then off to the fabulous, the mystical…

STONEHENGE!!

OoooOOoOOoooOOoooOOOoooOOOOOoooooOOOOOOOooooAAaaaaa!!! (In Mystic Purple!)

Druidish or what? What an absolutely amazing place. Even though a big road thunders relentlessly by about a hundred yards away, the whole place has this unerring sense of serenity… Great to visit it. Although it is also funny to mock the henge – with it’s ancient footbridge and mystical shop of gifts and treats…

And then – back in the car! And off on a random mission to Wardour castle… Wardour castle is where they filmed the bits of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, which had Brian Blessed in… Which invariably led to both me and Danielle running about the place shouting “Gordon’s Alive!” and exploring cellars and boy-holes and Mediaeval DVD racks. If you weren’t there, and you weren’t unless you are Danielle, or I, then you won’t understand. But needless to say there is much comedy to be found in pretending to be a real estate agent selling a ruinous castle, Mediaeval Mars Bar wrappers do exist, and it IS scary to look up Chimneys.

And then we went and had a good old natter over drinks, curly fries and cheesy Garlic bread. I think it might have scared her a bit that I didn’t eat much – but then I hope that I made up for it with funny banter!

So once again I am lost for words when it comes to miss Menage. I’ve met her before – you remember, when she came to London, but it’s nice to be constantly amazed and refreshed by someone. It’s incredibly rare that I can feel instantly comfortable with someone. It’s rarer still that someone will laugh at all of my crappy jokes, and rarer yet that someone can make me smile and laugh with such ease… AND she has the most perfect nails EVER!! It feels strange that someone I hardly know is having such a profound and deep effect on my life… I don’t quite know how to explain it really. I’ll try – it feels like I’ve known Danielle for years, and I actually fear the day that she’ll stop e-mailing me, or leaving me snazzy comments, or sending me funny texts… I think life’ll be a lot bleaker then.

Oh, and this will really embarrass her – she’s an exceptionally pretty lady too. And you can take that from me.

So to sum up – Danielle is much, much cooler than flared trousers. Oh, yes. Danielle is about as cool as a polar bear, taking a dip in an ice pool while eating a lolly. That’s how cool Danielle is.

But I’ll stop embarrassing the poor girl now, she doesn’t do compliments so well. But thanks, DM. You are the reason that my weekend was better than everyone elses!

Anyway. Mum has gone away on her hols (lucky lady), and the rest of life is swimming along nicely too. Work is going well, I have formulated plans to buy a flat, and Top Gear is back and it’s making me drool over yummy cars again.

My favourite things at the moment:

1) Danielle (of course… Did you even READ the above?)
2) Lovely Brie and Bacon baguettes
3) Words like Flang, Wangdoodle, Monk and Cheesebread
4) Tool’s new album – absolutely fantastic
5) Feeling back on the road again
6) The kitten that keeps following me home – Little Mau – he’s ace
7) Somewhat bizarrely, my new socks
8) My proposed name change – to Baron Pierre Von Moonboot of Flufflehausen
9) Stonehenge
10) Brian Blessed

So there!

I hope you are all well, I hope Danielle isn’t too embarrassed, and I hope that I’ll see all of you soon!

Lots of Love,
CJ x x

Me vs Bigotry vs Opus Dei (or Ruth Kelly is a Twat)

2006-05-12T04:54:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day: Falter – Hundred Reasons

Album of the Day: Films About Ghosts – Counting Crows

Word of the Day: Flang

Thought of the Day: Whose pig is this?

What’s up, bretheren?

Don’t know where the slightly theological welcome came from. I’m sat here at work, and I just realised it’s been a good long while since I’ve swung by to say hello. I appreciate it may come to a shock of my readership of, well, two, but I haven’t been blogging because there’s not been much to say, in truth.

But then something happened that I really and truly had to write about.

If you are a Christian, or have Christian beliefs, you’d better skip on to a different blog – you won’t like this.

Next week sees the release of the film of the biggest publishing phenomenon the world has ever seen. In fact, the book that the film is based on is the second-biggest selling book of all time. Second only to (would you Adam & Eve it?) the Bible.

I refer, of course, to ‘The Da Vinci Code’.

I don’t know if you’ve read the book – but it’s a damned good romp. And that’s exactly what it is – a romp. It’s got mystery and clues that need to be solved and an underlying sexual tension between the two main protagonists… Oh, and a plot that revolves around the fact that Jesus, while being the son of God and all, was in fact a horny bastard like any other man – and had a baby with Mary Magdalene. You know, she who the Catholic Church vilified as a prostitute (so says Mr Brown) because it was inconceivable that Jesus would want his Jollies. Anyway, before I send myself any deeper in to hell, the premise of the book is that the Holy Grail is not the cup used in the last supper, it is in fact the bloodline of Christ himself. Not only that, it’s ended up in Scotland! Throw in a murderous albino (!) monk, and more twists and turns than a yogic sex session – and you’ve got quite a story.

Can we remember that word for a minute – ‘Story’.

STORY!

Godsdammit!

Because what’s getting to me above all other things at the moment is the bigotry being displayed by the Church. “Don’t watch this film!”, “It’s Blasphemy!” – they cry… Waving their hands and gnashing their teeth and generally being all fire and brimstone again.

Oh, please. Everyone has a right to his or her opinion – and as an individual who believes in anything if it’s proved, I respect that. But these people who so strongly object to the screening of this film are demonstrating the sheer and utter closed mindedness of the Christian Church.

Let us see the film. Let us decide. And hey, why don’t they see the film as well – they might even enjoy it.

After all, wasn’t it Christ who said: “Judge not, lest ye be judged”? Just a thought.

Oh, and here’s another – Jesus was a very famous bloke. Has a lot of resonance now, actually. And he was most famous for telling parables.

Or Stories, if you will. Stories loaded with metaphor, intended to make the listener question beliefs and values – and bring them faith…

But there we are. I’d hate to be a closed minded arse.

And something else that’s been getting my goat recently. In this country, a lady who has been elected in to power is part of the Opus Dei cult. Whoops! Did I say Cult? What I meant to say was… well… Cult, actually.

As part of this woman’s religious belief, the practice of homosexuality is a perpetuating sin, and in her eyes this is wholly wrong. Again, entitled to her opinion, even if it is morally retarded. Anyway, her name is Ruth Kelly and she is at the forefront of managing the full equality process for homosexuals.

Can anyone say ‘hypocrite’? In the last 9 years of power, Ms. Kelly has missed no fewer than 12 votes on homosexual equality, and consistently avoids the subject in interview – only going as far as to say (and here I paraphrase) “Well, whatever Tony says I have to do…”

Surely it would have been morally (and religiously) sound for Ms. Kelly to state from the outset that due to her religious standpoint she is entirely unable to take part in votes and decision making on a subject she is fundamentally opposed to? Then she could get on in building that ‘affordable’ housing that her predecessor so fantastically failed to do…

Interesting how members of Opus Dei are referred to as “Subjects”. I wonder if it’s the same in cabinet?

But enough of that. I really shouldn’t talk about religion, it’s probably a bad move.

So during the course of this blog, we’ve determined that Jesus was a bit of a skirt chaser and Ruth Kelly is a bit of a twat.

No change there then.

I think I’d better leave that there. God knows the sort of response this will generate…

But know that I love you all.

Jesus loves you all.

Except you, you cunt. He says you should stop doing that.

Peace!

x x x

Bullocks vs Meatballs

2006-04-11T06:27:00.000-07:00

Song of the Day – History – Funeral for a Friend

Album of the Day – In Between Dreams – Jack Johnson

Word of the Day – Trombone

Thought of the Day – “An individual is not one who refrains from imitating others, rather one who may be imitated by no-one...” (Big shout out to Bruce, whom I have never met, for posting that one. It’s a deal. It’s a steal. It’s the sale of the fucking century…)

I know what you’re thinking…

No, I really do know what you’re thinking. I’m like Derren Brown and shit. No, I’m better than Derren Brown. I’m like a mix of Derren Brown and that dude off of Most Haunted.

So what are you thinking?

Well, aside from the four of clubs (because that’s the card you were thinking of) – you’re thinking – “Christ! I thought this dude was dead!”

Sorry to disappoint.

No, fans, I am not dead. Nor am I in a coma, nor have aliens abducted me. I am also NOT secretly living a double life as Sienna Miller as some (of the more dubious) tabloids have claimed.

I have, in fact, been living it up in Covent Garden, and working very hard. Like a Japanese Prisoner of War, but a happy one.

Oh, enough of the bollocks.

And I mean that. The bollock-o-meter has been turned to negative one. The rest of this blog will be a bollocks free zone. From now. No bollocks. Apart from the ones previously mentioned. And now, no more!

How about bullocks?

Moo! And stuff. Hehe – big, hairy bullocks.

I feel I should mention that this may not be the most linear blog you’re ever likely to read…

So there. Anyways, what else is up? Well, over the last couple of days I have had the distinct pleasure (and if you’re reading this Danielle, please be prepared to blush) of meeting with a very cool friend of mine, Danielle. I have spoken about her before, and I think I said that she is cooler than flared trousers…

I was wrong.

Danielle is way, way cooler than that. She’s just about absolute zero. She’s minus 231 degrees Kelvin. She’s ice. She’s pretty, and funny (very few people have the ability to make me laugh like that) – and is just generally pretty darned a-ok in my book. And my book is quite long, so there.

So we met in a bar on Monday night, and I’ve been out for lunch with her just now. I had meatballs. I don’t know what she had, you’d have to ask her, but I know it had green in it…

Argh! I’ve had to come back to work!

But needs must when the Devil drives, I suppose.

Right then, as you know I don’t like coming along here and just emptying random, banal and arbitrary thoughts on to you. Well, I do, but I at least like them to have a point, you know…

But – joke-on-joke – there is no point to this one.

I just wanted to swear for a bit and make a bad joke about genitals – and then, of course, tell you about Nelly.

Which I have done…

And now…

Like a crappy superhero…

AWAY!
Peace my chickens. Love to you all.

Chris vs Vauxhall Tigra

2006-03-15T08:18:00.000-08:00

Song of the Day – The Quiet Things No-One Ever Knows – Brand New

Album of the Day – Frances the Mute – The Mars Volta

Thought of the Day – “Ow, ow, fuck this hurts, ow.”

Good afternoon everyone! It’s been a long time hasn’t it? Why, you ask, is this post entitled “Chris vs Vauxhall Tigra”?

Well, we’ll come to that later.

First off, I must tell you how cool my new job is. I’m in Covent Garden every day, which is awesome, I’m working for (possibly) the coolest company on the planet and I’m loving every minute of it! I think I’m going to be really successful here…

But here’s the deal, y’all. Remember when we were kids, we were all taught how to cross the road by the Green Cross Code man? Well, I hope you all paid attention.

Because it seems I didn’t. Last night, for the first time in 26 years, I didn’t look at what the traffic was doing.

What happened?

Well, I was on the train, and after a couple of pints with some buddies of mine, I was absolutely dying for the toilet. So, I jumped off of the train at Mile End, with the intention of going to find a pub and relieve myself. So, I walk up to the pedestrian crossing, and press the wait button.

Out of the corner of my eye I see that two lanes out of this three lane bit of road have stopped. So, without looking to see if the green man was lit up, I crossed.

Next thing I hear is “BEEEEEEPP!”

Time slowed to treacle.

I saw the car (a Vauxhall Tigra, if you really want to know), and I just had time to turn my body away and get a hand on the bonnet. Then, the car took my legs from underneath me, and I remember the WHAM as I hit the bonnet of the car and then the glass. As the driver was braking heavily, I was then thrown off of the car and on to the road.

All in all I guess it took 2 or 3 seconds. It felt like a lifetime.

It turns out the traffic was still green for go. And these two cars had stopped for no reason. So I think (and yes, I thought wrong) that the traffic is stopped, I didn’t look, and I went.

Aside from the getting-hit-by-a-car part, I was very lucky. I’m only suffering very bad bruising, and a good deal of shock. But nothing is broken. Any other day, if those other cars hadn’t have stopped, there would have been a free flow of traffic and that would have been me, squished.

The lesson to be learnt here? Always, always look. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you’re safe, ok? And thinking “they’ve got brakes” isn’t always enough.

Because I was lucky. Thousands of people aren’t.

And then I was cracking jokes with the Ambulance men and the Copper… I was ok. Probably shouldn’t have come to work today though – should have stayed at home and let all the colourful bruises come out. But there we go…

So that’s that, for today. I hope this finds you all well, and I’ll write more soon.

Lots of Love,

Chris x x

This is Fucking Beautiful, Man...

2006-03-01T09:06:00.000-08:00

I'm leaving work on Friday, as you may know, and my dear friend Akash won't be here... He sent me this poem about our friendship...

Dude, I love you, bru.

Anyways, I wanted to share it. Enjoy.
(13 Months forever)

13 months of friendship leave memories on my face and everything he wrote told me what it takes
to live with a burning heart but not give up the fight
to trust the pain you feel and allow it to give light
to those who have forgotten, to those who disbelieve
13 months of friendship made me perceive
a man to brilliant to be here...
But this is no grieving! For nothings ever lost
No this is about believing-friendship transcends thought
Like a sword you've slain-my ego's game
I thought I was good until you came and killed me with your
talent...
13 months of friendship Chris, what can I say?
Does this officiate my being a drama queen?
This is the extent my friend, This is you inspiring.
13 months of friendship forever to be shared
I'll applause my heart out while you take centre stage.

Me vs Stupid Laws

2006-02-28T06:42:00.000-08:00

Song of the Day: Black Hole Sun – Soundgarden

Album of the Day: Breaking Up – The Research

Word of the Day: Existential

Thought of the Day: "When it comes to living life on a daily basis, we're all in the same boat; only some of us have been aboard a little longer."

Afternoon!

Right. If there’s one thing that really gets on my man-parts more than anything else, it’s censorship, in any form. We live in a society where we are allowed the freedom of free speech. A society where we can satirise religion (but have to be prepared to get our flags burned, natch), a society where we can voice our discomforts, our pleasures and our dreams.

Freedom of speech so we can voice our political beliefs, we can ridicule those in power, and we can often make statements without saying a word. All of this without fear of some kind of Stalinist reprisals.

Forget not, people, for the last hundred or so years people have been laying their lives on the line – in many millions of cases sacrificing their lives – so that we may have this freedom.

Such freedom! Such glory!

It’s a freedom that means I can call you an ignorant wanker if I want. I can call anybody an ignorant wanker if I want – I just have to be prepared for the consequences – and be adult enough to accept that.

But why am I bashing on about this? Because I’m an actor, and a quite frankly unbelievable law has just been passed in America. I forget what it’s called exactly, but the gist of it is this. Once a film has been recorded and edited, a third party may then re-cut the film in the case of anything that is overly sexual, or too violent, or has too much bad language in it – and all of this without the prior consent of the directors or production houses.

Mother-fucking-cunts. Let them try and censor that, mother fuckers!

How dare they? How dare they pass this law at a time when the productions being turned out by major film studios are beginning to shed their plasticy, pre-produced, formulaic, insipid pop nonsense – and are beginning to give us films with a social sense of morality. A conscience. Challenging films that really do make people think. See ‘Syriana’. See ‘TransAmerica’. Christ, even see ‘Napoleon Dynamite’. We need, no, we expect brave and challenging film-making – and we expect it now.

I’m not for one second saying that easy going and light hearted films should stop being made… No, I like them as much as the next person – but how dare the right-wing, conservative American government presume that they can determine just exactly what it is we watch?

Still – this law comes from a country where evolutionary theory and Darwinism isn’t taught in schools, so I can’t say I’m surprised.

At this juncture, I must say I’m not anti-American. Far from it. I know a few Americans, and they’re all highly intelligent people – who are embarrassed about the way their country is run. However, I am aware that the country is run by a power-mad, money-hungry Texan fuckwit who has a severe mistrust of anyone who looks even vaguely different to him, the monkey browed fucktard of a toss-biscuit. And the problem is, the Midwest of America trust this pant-stain.

Anyways, I digress. The point I’m trying to make is this: what would people have said if the work of Shakespeare had been censored? Oh, that’s cultural, is it? Some kid kills his Dad so he can fuck his Mum? What about Greek tragedy? Oedipus complexes? That’s bloody filthy! So it’s all culture, is it? WELL SO ARE OUR FUCKING MOVIES! They are a testament to modern culture, to how our generation view the world and its politics!

This can not – this must not – be taken away from us!

Close your hands and make a fist… Fight the system!

Phew. Rant over. Isn’t the Nanny State a wonderful thing?

Anyway, three and a half days to go…

Peace be with you,

Chris x x

Shooting Films vs Going Home

2006-02-27T05:48:00.000-08:00

Song of the Day - Hit the Floor – Linkin Park

Album of the Day – August and Everything After – Counting Crows

Word of the Day – Flibadyjib

Thought of the Day – “Hello Dave! Is Dave there?”

Well, that’s it, people. I’m in to the last five days here at the hallowed halls of the company I work for. It’s all meetings and pressure and a whole heap of counting down the hours until I’m out of here.

I think it’s all for the best really. I mean, two of the people I was closest to have left here in the past week, and while there are some people whom I will truly miss (Akash, Alice, Pierre, Rob et al), you are proper friends and I will see you more often than you might think.

So there we go. I depart these offices for new climes in Covent Garden on Friday. Can you say excited? Because that’s what I am.

Finished shooting the film last week too. For those of you that don’t know I was shooting a short film last week entitled ‘The Boys’. Keep an eye out for it at an Indie Film Festival near you, soon! It was an interesting experience – I’ve done a few bits of film and TV before, but never to the extent that I had to really worry about it that much. Being trained in theatre, and primarily performing in theatre, is a completely different beast to film. In theatre, you have a start point, and end point, and a very definite journey for your character. You can follow that journey and achieve your emotions and super objectives every single time. Film is different in that if you fuck it up, you can call cut and go for it again. It can be pretty tedious, shooting the same scene, or line, or even word over and over again. This is so you can achieve different shot angles, close-ups, etc. All told though, it was a great ensemble experience and something that I think was very valuable. And, I have a part in another short film which is going to be distributed to major film festivals, so that’s great news too.

Finally this acting thing is showing signs of starting to come together…

So, how was the weekend? I had an unusually quiet one – ended up going back to Mum’s in Essex – got some good old fashioned home cooking! It was nice – haven’t been back since Christmas. Good to see my mum and partner happy too – it’s been a while since I’ve seen a genuine smile on her face. So well done to Mum and Tony – it might take a few years but the right one comes along eventually.

Which is solace for us all, I suppose.

Really, that’s about it today. I have the electric feeling of creativity in my veins again, which is beautiful. I feel hot, I feel alive. The ends of my fingers are still tingling – the film is in edit as I write this, so hopefully the screening won’t be too long away… I might wear a tux just because I can, eh?

“What’s this?” I hear you cry “No comedy stylings today?”

No, not really. I can’t think of anything to write about, so I’m just babbling.

And for that reason, I’m going to leave this here.

Peace be with you.

Chris x x

Airports vs God vs The Universe (philosophically speaking)

2006-02-17T04:41:00.000-08:00

First thought of today – how cool is this girl? Proper cool, that’s how cool she is. Sub-fucking-zero.

Anyway.

Song of the day – 23 – Jimmy Eat World
Album of the day – Quality Control – Jurassic 5
Word of the day – Flagellation
Quote of the day – “A village idiot is a wonderful thing if one is a village. If not, not.”
Sound of the day – The sweet and glorious sound of ROCK!

So anyways. After my previous diatribe about the general bad feeling towards Denmark at the moment (I have a link to a website where you can see the cartoons – but I won’t post it here. I may be a lot of things, but suicidally fucking stupid isn’t one of them. If you want it, you know where to find me), I figured there are a few other things I could talk to you about today.

What’s first? Well. I’d like to focus on how cool my friend Danielle is. She’s ultra cool. She’s probably cooler than Shelley. She’s cooler than flared jeans. And she has fantastic musical taste. I pity you all for not knowing Danielle, you sad pathetic fools! Hahahaha! (Evil laugh!)

But that’s enough of that.

For those of you that don’t live in London, yesterday the whole tube network fucked up. There was a signal failure, but London Underground, in all of their indefatigable wisdom, kept sending trains in to the tunnels. Nice one. As a result of that, thousands of people on 3 trains were jammed in a tunnel for an hour and a half, right in the middle of rush hour. It made the front page of the Evening Standard – I was there! I was part of the news! Did anyone ask my opinion?

No.

So here it is. When LU know that there are signalling problems, why don’t they say “don’t get on the train, you’ll be stuck in a tunnel for a couple of hours”, instead of forcing the trains through regardless. God help us in 2012 when the Olympics gets here… I hold my breath in loosely veiled anticipation… Anyway, London transport sucks. Leastways, we all think it does but when it’s held in comparison to say, Yorkshire, it’s positively brilliant. And I can say this with a good sense of authority because I’ve live in both places.

Yorkshire runs on YMT (Yorkshire Mean Time) which essentially means “Whenever-the hell-I’m-ready-you-nancy-boy-southerner Time”.

Some time ago, I was asked to write a piece on Airports. Never usually one to bow to public demand (oh, ok. I’m a whore and I want you approval!), here it is.

Airports. Airports are scary mother fuckers. Now, to be honest I’ve not spent a lot of time in Airports of late, but that’s largely due to the fact that I’d rather tear off my own scrotum than get on a plane. Well maybe that’s going a bit far, but either way I hate flying. True, I get all excited about the thought of going on holiday – but the idea of getting in to what is essentially a flying coffin breathing recycled air and eating crappy plastic food while paying exorbitant amounts of money for a tiny Gin and Tonic just doesn’t sit right with me. If God (and we’ll come to Him later) had intended man to fly, he’d have given us wings. Then again, he did give us the intelligence to work out the theory of lift (the air travelling over the top of the wing has to go faster than the air going underneath the wing to catch up with it, creating an area of low pressure which creates lift), so make of it what you will.

So that’s not so much a bit on Airports as my inherent distrust of flying. And today I have the attention span of something with a very small attention span, so maybe I’ll return to that at another point.

But, I did promise I’d talk about God for a bit.

I like to think of God as the universes’ first and foremost comedian. He’s withstood the test of time. Where other comedians have waned and faltered by the wayside, He consistently provides us with new, fresh comedy stylings every day of every week.

You need proof of this? OK, here’s a few pieces of evidence for you:

1) Ginger people
2) London Underground
3) Belgium
4) Spam
5) George W Bush

That should be enough for you. All that said, I still believe in Evolution over Creation. Yes, some things I have a big problem with. I’ll outline this below:

1) First there was Nothing.
Then, Nothing exploded. And suddenly there was everything. Well, rather most things were around somewhere, it was more than nothing but less than everything, while at the same time being nothing at all apart from clouds of gas and dust and hot stuff. The equivalent of a gigantic cosmic burp.

Let’s put this in to perspective. Nothing, according to those Crazy-Haired scientists I’ve talked about previously, wasn’t actually nothing. Everything was already there, just crunched up really, really small. Like everything in the entire universe was squished in to a nugget the size of something one-trillionth the size of the dot on this ‘i’.

Obviously, this caused quite a bit of pressure… I imagine there was very little elbow room and all the atoms were complaining at the lack of personal space. Sort of like the Northern Line, only less hot. Eventually, a couple of atoms and neutrons (and some unruly electrons) got together, and opened the fire exit door and WHAM! Everything escaped in to the great car-park party of the sky.

Or something like that.

After a couple of hundred thousand millennia, while everything that was nothing and not really anything was still knocking around enjoying the new found freedom, life got a bit boring. Gas was just hanging loose and talking bollocks, while dust was generally getting on everyone’s nerves a bit. Suddenly, everything decided it was a bit dark (the batteries for the torch had ran out), so decided that it would be a good idea if the gases got together and formed stars.

Everything waited patiently while the gas sorted this out over a further couple of thousand millennia. And after a while, there was light. Well, of a sort anyway.

The dust felt it was getting left out of the action. So what it did was, it started hanging out in groups. These groups became what is technically known as rocks. You have to remember that these rocks were super-duper hot, and they attracted more dust and got bigger and bigger and bigger and hotter and hotter and hotter until they were big and ball shaped. Now the dust gets all confused. It starts thinking “well, I’m too big to be dust but too small to be a star! I have no identity! I’m alone in the universe!” So they changed their name to Planets, and there were a bloody lot of them.

And after that there was a whole lot of time where the planets hung around smoking dope, the stars formed gravity, and pulled a group of planets around each one, and taught them the error of their ways.

And then it all went quiet for ages and ages. Apart from random attacks by meteors (which were smaller gangs of dust that hadn’t passed their planet exams) and other stuff which we’re supposed to believe but don’t.

2)Bugger all happened for ages and ages and ages.
After all the action that had been happening, the universe took a gigantic coffee break. Or it went on strike, the union of Planets feeling they’d done just about enough, thankyou. The stars kept shining, but sod all else happened. The edge of the universe kept speeding away at an impossibly big speed, dragging everything else with it, but that was about all.

And then all of a sudden, after billions of years, there was life on Earth. I say life, what I mean is there was organisms. Where the hell did thy come from? Were they on an exchange trip from another universe? What? How?

And the organisms decided it was pretty crap in the primordial slime, so they thought it would be a good idea to get down to some serious evolving.

And evolve they did. They thought “It’s hard struggling about here in this pond of magma. I think a fin or two and a tail and some gills would help”. So they became fish. Some of the fish then thought “It’s pretty boring in this pond altogether, actually. I’m going to go and be a dinosaur out there in the big, wide world”. Which they did.

Then the dinosaurs fucked about for a bit and ate each other and wrote the script for Jurassic Park. Then, the meteors (who had been hanging out behind Saturn playing Cluedo?) decided that Dave the meteor should go and teach the Earth a lesson for sitting there being all superior. So he did.

WHAM!

And everything died. Except for some things which didn’t. Like crocodiles and Cockroaches and Margaret Thatcher’s heart.

And then bugger all happened for a heck of a long time after that.

And out of nowhere, evolution happened again. Just like that. No warning, no nothing. And after a while of transitions between fish (again) and frogs and earwigs and monkeys, Homo Erectus emerged blinking in to the sunlight.

The crocodiles (who’d lived through all of this) simply thought “Oh, bollocks. There goes the neighbourhood.” And they were right, of course. But, in the fullness of time, we’d teach them for their insolence by turning them in to handbags and expensive shoes.

And that’s it. There was everything and nothing all at the same time, and then it blew up. Then a lot of evolution happened, and we were here.

So evolution sounds really cool, and in theory and practice it bloody well works. But scientifically it’s absolutely mind boggling.

“How does God come in to all of this?” I hear you ask. Well, it’s quite simple. I think God was the sub-contractor who won the build rights for Universe, inc. (stocks are currently priced at $1bn per share, it’s a growing operation). So, God exists but he’s really only a builder with a penchant for drama and pyromania. Check it out, his son was a carpenter, following in the family trade. However, this does mean that you’ll need to think of God as a man wearing badly fitting jeans and a hardhat.

“fsssh… Want a universe, do ya? It’s gonna cost ya, luv… ‘Ere, yoo got plannin’ permission for that planet extension?”

And that’s why the whole thing took so long. God, and Ethereal Building. Ltd, took the longest recorded tea breaks in history, and finished the initial universe build an unprecedented 100,000,000 years overdue. The continuing expansion of the Universe has since been subcontracted to Knight Frank industries, who are currently considering turning the Alpha Quadrant in to a development of Luxury Flats. God still oversees the operation on Earth and throughout the milky-way, but it’s largely a caretaking position and he’s getting a bit narked off at his fall from grace. Hence all the earthquakes and tidal waves and things.

And here’s something to really fry the old noggin – if the Universe is constantly expanding, that means there’s something outside of it. But the Universe is meant to be everything, and infinite. But if it’s expanding it means it has a finite edge, so logically there has to be something outside it. There can’t be nothing (nothing doesn’t exist), but there has to be something to expand in to. So the Universe is infinite, but it isn’t.

Kind of makes you think that this is all someone’s sick joke, doesn’t it?

Which proves the existence of God and his profession as a comedian.

I think I’ve banged on for long enough today… But if you ever do get to the end of the universe, this is probably what you’ll see, a sign that says:

"You are now leaving the Universe. Please take your litter with you, and come again!"

Hmm. Before I go, one last thing. A song, or songette, if you will:

Getting Away

You’re standing
On my toes
So much I can’t get anywhere
And no matter how I try
I can’t get away from you

Your hands on
My shoulders
Push me down in to the
Ground
And my death is the only
Way to get away from you

Your eyes burn
In to me
Fix me like the headlights
Of a truck
And getting hit’s
Another way to get away from you

Your Kisses
Attack me
Root my body to
The spot
And me biting back
Is the way to get
Away from you

You smile
So sweetly
Your teeth wrap around
My throat and
Gently
Pull it out
And will I ever
Get away from you?

I’m fighting
I’m dying
Bunch up my fists
And I strike out
It’s not the way
To get away from you
I’m losing
Confusing
Where’s the door
Because I want out
To get away from you

And can we stop this now?
Only I’m not sure how
(And why is it we
Always end up here?)
I’d really like to give up
Fed up of being stuck
(And why is it we
Always end up here?)
My Chest always feels so tight
The way this is, it’s not right
(And why is it we
Always end up here?)

You smile
So Sweetly
Your teeth wrap around
My throat and pull it out
And will I ever
Get away from You?

**

Lots of Love, everyone. Peace.

(p.s - Fleur, if you read this - you'll be sorely missed! See you in Galway!)

Chris x x

Danish Solidarity vs The General Fallout

2006-02-15T02:37:00.000-08:00

Song of the Day - Megalomaniac - Incubus
Album of the Day - Collision Course - Linkin Park and Jay-Z
Word of the Day - Vicariously
Thought of the Day - It's almost like someone flushed the loo and we're waiting for the fallout...

Alright, here it is.

I’ve been stewing about this for ages now.

They’re burning my flag, for fuck’s sakes.

I promise, straight off, that this will not be a blog based around ‘those’ cartoons. But I do need to make something absolutely clear.

The paper which is at the centre of this furore is the Jyllends Posten. The cartoons were initially published in September, and here we have to make mention that the cartoons that were deemed most inflammatory were never printed in the Posten. Never, not once. The cartoon of Muhammad wearing a bomb-shaped turban? Never printed in the Posten.

But what infuriates me most is the reaction that this has caused. Fair enough – I take the point that any depiction of Muhammad is against the law of Islam, and there is a reason to be upset or offended.

But what these people who are burning flags, and attacking embassies – oh, and killing their own in protests – need to remember is – it’s not the Danish people who are responsible here. We didn’t all send an offensive caricature of the prophet for ridicule. As a nation, we are one of the most accepting in Europe, if not the world.

There were protests in London. Fine – protest for the protection of your faith. There is no problem with that – we live in a multicultural society and I respect your values. But you should sure as hell respect mine, too. And when I hear chants that are obviously made to incite racial hatred and tension, and when I see placards that threaten the bombing of Denmark – it makes my blood boil.

Do these people not see what they are doing? Do they not see that Nick Griffin (BNP Leader and general fascist arse) will feed on this? He will. And in this country, he and his party are gaining followers (especially in the North of England). I AM NOT ONE OF THEM. I ACCEPT THAT THIS WHOLE PROBLEM IS CAUSED BY A FEW RELIGIOUS ZEALOTS. My Muslim friends are shocked and appalled at the behaviour of some of their brothers.

Look back through history – just about every major conflict has been caused by a misinterpretation on some religion, or philosophy (Nietzsche – imagine him playing Monopoly and picking up a Chance card – “You are Nietzsche. Your entire philosophy was espoused by the Nazis and cynically manipulated to suit their own diabolical ends. Miss a go.”) And make no mistake – we are on the edge of a major conflict. We need to wake up here – the police need to be given the power to arrest people on the spot for inciting hatred… Especially when it’s happening right in front of them.

All I ask is that people get along. Tony-fucking-Blair keeps banging on about Respect. We need to start showing that to each other – before we implode.

And at the risk of sounding like a complete arse – if you don’t like living in the west, if you don’t like your Nike trainers or your central heating or your free (and good) education or your democratic government… Then by all means, go live somewhere’s else. Seriously. You’ll save a drain on taxes (which you’re paying to an imperialist government anyway).

This is a free society. We enjoy freedom of speech. We enjoy tolerance. We enjoy life.

And we’d like to keep it that way, wouldn’t we?

That’s it from me for now. Just wanted to share my feelings.

Solidarity. One world, One Race, One People, One Love.

Peace. X x

It's Starting to Happen vs A General Sense of Unease

2006-02-10T06:44:00.000-08:00

“I’ve got another confession to make…”

(Song of the Day – “Best of You” – Foo Fighters
Album of the Day – “Mezmerize” – System of a Down
Thought of the Day – One day, all of this will be easier. If we all love a little more and hate a little less, I reckon we’ll be OK.)

Morning all! How’s things?

Well, it’s been a bit hectic since my last letter to you all. I’ve managed to secure a new job, so after all of my negative remonstrations about where I work now I can finally let it go. Except I won’t, and a portion of this post will be taken up by that.

Quite simply, the senior management in this company have been behaving like gargantuan pricks since I handed my notice in on Monday. I’ve since been told off for going to the loo, for eating a croissant, and generally being me. I’ve also been told that it’s only because they’re disappointed that I’m leaving.

They had SIX MONTHS to notice I was unhappy and sort it out – and they did FUCK ALL. What they offered by way of counter was too little, too late – and if they feel that behaving like kids in a playground is the way forward then bring it on. My mind will not change, my conviction will not falter.

So there you go. That’s the story of work.

Well, folks. It’s that time of year again. That time of year where those of you who are in a state of “we” and not “me” get to stare lovingly at one another and make all of singletons feel like we have some form of leprosy because we don’t have partners.

As a result of this, on the big day (I’m not using the V word) – I am being relegated to my room in the flat because my flatmate is having his girlfriend over for dinner. That means no fun for me on the day – my room has no entertainment equipment – it’s all in the lounge! Grr.

Still, a very wise friend of mine is starting a movement – Singletons Day. This will be on Feb 15th, where we celebrate the fact that we don’t need to have our existence rationalised by a ‘significant other’. Join the party!

All that aside – there is the narcissistic side of me that hopes I get a card… I’ve never had a valentine’s card… *sad* Perhaps I’ll send a few to myself to make me feel popular!

“Dearest Chris,

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lots of Love,

Chris x x x”

But that’s enough about V-day. I’ve just been informed that the Foo Fighters are playing a gig in Hyde Park in June, and tickets are being booked for me! And as I’m loving the Foos so much at the moment (You must check out “In Your Honour” – it’s a wonderful album! Dave Grohl is a God!) that is quite frankly brilliant news!

So it’s been a while since I’ve last given you things to read. The pure and simple fact of the matter is that I haven’t really had a lot to say over the last week. I haven’t done much writing at all – most of my time is taken up learning my lines and rehearsing for this short film that I’m doing. That’s incredibly exciting, the feel of performing and rehearsing and really finding a character is something I’ve missed so much. It raises in me some powerful emotions – suddenly my soul is rejuvenated, I am on fire. I don’t expect my performance will be its best – it’s been a while since I performed – but I feel like I’m entering the character, not just going through the motions. That’s good. I love that.

So watch this space. The film is being distributed to Indie film festivals, so it might gain some recognition. I also have an audition for another short film which is being distributed to the major film festivals, so all in all things are looking up!

Apart from the fact that I haven’t got 2 pennies to rub together at the moment. The problem is, I look at my friends and they’re all so successful… Some are buying houses, some are buying new iPods on a whim, all are coupled up and happy – and that’s fine and I’m totally pleased for them.

It’s not really a case of jealousy – my point is here that I’ve slugged my guts out for the last year for very little reward and it’s got me nowhere. Hopefully this new job will change all that – because I’m tired of struggling. Now, I know it’s not just me, and I have to cut out all of the things I don’t need (cigarettes for one) – but I want my life back, please. It’s strange to say it – but I was better off as a student. Perhaps that’s because I lived up north and rent was half what I pay here and the cost of generally living was less – but that doesn’t mean to say I’ll ever move back there. With the best will in the world, I couldn’t. I’ve got some fantastic friends up there, and it’s good to visit and every time I go there I’m tempted to stay – but London is my home and always will be. London is expensive, and it’s hard – but it’s home.

Let’s reflect a moment on just how wonderful this city is. There’s no other place like it on God’s green earth. It’s vibrant and colourful. It’s terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. The mix of ethnicity is incredible – I defy any other city to have as much diversity as we have here. Chinatown is beautiful this time of year! I have friends of so many different races, colours and creeds – and how can we ignore different cultures? It’s what makes life so interesting. This city is alive. It never sleeps – it always rumbles on, all of its pieces working in near harmony. The belly of the beast breathes – stand on a tube platform and you can feel it’s breath. Stand on top of a building and you can hear its voice. Put your ear to the ground and you can hear the heartbeat of London. This city will never die. This city is Love and Hate. This city is Man and Beast. This city is Success and Failure. This city is Ours. And no matter how many times you try and knock us down we will always come back bigger, stronger and better than before.

I love my home. I love the people in it. But we all have conflicted relationships with where we live. London is no perfect, it never will be.

But it’s the nearest I’ve got. And you can not take that away from me.

I like to think that most of my blogs, while some of the content is serious, have a comedy edge to them. It’s a talent I’m told I have, being able to make people laugh. So I’m sorry if this hasn’t been so funny so far – even though I have this new job I have very little to be happy about at the moment… In terms of Monday to Friday 9am to 6pm.

Actually, before I leave, I need to talk about something else. I’m worried at the moment by the British legal system (Don’t worry, this will be brief). Just recently (and for fear of libel action I am not going to name any particular cases) there have been several court based decisions where the jury has failed to reach a verdict. How can a jury fail to reach a verdict when all of the evidence points to one person, the police and pathologists are uniformally agreed that the accused is guilty, and when the person in question has been found guilty once already?

How can someone be sentenced to 7 years in prison, but be out in 2 because he’s already served 20 months in custody? That’s a bit of a mockery. That’s like me saying I don’t have to work extra hours because I did overtime in my last job.

I have no major rant route to go down – I just don’t understand it, is all.

Other things I don’t understand:

1) Women – how do you work?
2) American Football
3) Reality TV
4) How they get the chocolate all around the kit-kat
5) Tights
6) Why Pete Doherty is famous
7) Languages I can’t speak
8) Bottled water
9) London Transport
10) Tony Blair

I tell you what. I’m going to leave this here for today, because I feel that I’m probably boring you to tears…
And that can’t be good.

Rest assured that I love you all, and it’s always nice to know that wherever we are, we always go to sleep under the same sky.

Oh, screw it. Here’s a song that I’ve written. Picked at random, I present to you:

Darling, This Life Isn’t Broken Anymore

She always needed
To hear it break
With you again
But she never knew how
To talk without
Her fears falling over the
Eaves
And the bed
Couldn’t break her
Or a thousand
Fallen Angels
Hung on a wire
Though the Churches don’t care…

So pain flowered in her lungs
As though she were climbing
A mountain of
Trepidation and anxiety
But she took breath and she sang
Though we all turned away
Afraid to abandon
The beauty we obey
Who was the light
That insisted we scatter
Dividing us all?
But she’s all broken now
Raining tears from the sky
The only trace she’s alive
When she only needs to smell
Your skin by her side…

When all of the endings
Come grinding our jaws
We all smell the
Tastelessness
Of our rotting souls
As she tears the walls down
To make us forget
And drain off
All our hearts
And turn back to her
And so when she sings
We all turn back
Turning to face
A beauty we
All embrace

**

Bye bye kids. Much love.

Chris. x x

Me vs The General Public

2006-01-31T07:26:00.000-08:00

Afternoon all!

Well, after last Fridays share of testosterone, I’m back. I think, the truth be told, I was feeling a bit ‘blokey’ last week, which is a thing that rarely happens with me… I never liked blokey blokes, so I’m going to try and leave that there from now on…

And I’ve just been told there’s a possibility that quite a few people around this office might have read that post.

Oh dear.

Anyways, I remain steadfast about what I said.

But enough of that. How was everyone’s weekends? Mine was OK, I managed to get completely trashed on Friday night, and then I went home and had an argument with my flatmates girlfriend. The rest of the weekend involved watching sport – and the less said about the football the better, thanks.

So. Sososo. I usually come here to rant or bitch or generally grace you with my viewpoint on something-or-other… And today is no different.

Today we’re going to talk about the general public, and why they shouldn’t be trusted.

Item 1) I get the tube to work every day. And every day, someone jumps on to the already packed train (you think that when livestock is transported it’s got it hard? You should try the Central Line…) as the doors are closing. These people are monumental bastards. They should be ostracised from pleasant society. Do these people not understand that there’ll be another train along in 2 minutes? You CANNOT be in that much of a rush.

But today I discovered a new breed of arsehole. A bastard of such gargantuan proportion, a git of such gut wrenching stupidity and evilness that it was all I could do not to ritually execute the fucker after what he did to me.

I was stood by the door of the already packed train. Me and the other sardines were vainly trying to read our Metros while still guarding the little personal space we had left. I had become personally acquainted with the armpit of the gentleman next to me, and was valiantly trying to turn to page three of my Metro when we pulled in to Stratford. And that’s when this story really gets going. The doors open, and sweet fresh air fills the tube. And then, as no-one is getting off, the doors start to close. This guy jams his briefcase in the door, making it open again. Then, seeing there’s no space in the carriage, he chooses his victim (me) and pulls me off of the train and steps smartly in to my place.

“Sorry mate,” says he “I’m in a terrible rush!”

I instantly hate this tube-grabbing fuck-tard of a bastard. Not only has he stolen my space, he’s trying to be fucking nice about it. I reeled of a string of exceptionally strong expletives, wished him the pain of a thousand papercuts and mentally threw the bastard on to the tracks below. I really hope he’s had a shit day today.

Still, I got to turn top page 3 of my Metro without restriction, so silver linings and all that.

Item 2) Any viewing population who not only watches Celebrity-Fucking-Big-Fucking-Brother, but then nominates a dozy Essex tart with more make up than sense and less talent than breasts to win the bloody thing needs to be taken in hand – almost immediately.

90% of these people get to vote who runs the country, for God’s sake. I can see it now, at the next general election… We’ll have Tony (or Gordon), vs Cameron, vs whoever-the-lib-dems choose… And then another candidate representing the, I don’t know, the Green Party or something – and the twist is they’re not a real politician! Text 1 to vote Tony! Text 2 to vote Cameron! Text 3 to vote Lib Dem! Text 4 to vote Chantelle! Who runs the country?

YOU DECIDE!

Lord help us. We live in a society where we are so obsessed by fleeting celebrity… My god! Charlotte Church has had a drink! Gasp! ‘Some banal Celebrity or other’ has had a baby and she looks a bit bigger now! The shock! The horror!

England, we need to watch out. We’re getting stupider, fatter and slower. We should be in the political driving seat – we should be protesting, striving for change, becoming part of the European family – not sitting on our slowly-expanding backsides watching faux celebrities fawn at each other for the love of the general public.

The people who vote for these things keep them going. If we round them up and, for the sake of argument, throw them in the North Sea, we might just be able to save ourselves.

Item 3) That fucking whale. All I have to say is this – Londoners don’t give a sweet flying shit about each other (see Item 1) – but the minute a whale gets lost and swims up the Thames we’re all immediately “Save the Whale!”

And then we were surprised when, in order to rescue a water dwelling mammal, we take it out of the water and it dies.

People were on the news – “I cried when Willy (Willy? We gave the bastard a name? By Christ…) died. He felt like a friend to me!” That woman, that woman that said that, went to M&S later and bought Sushi. She’s a hypocrite.

Oh. Dear. Lord. God. Please. Make. The. Bastards. Go. Away.

Back in the old days, there would be plagues to rid the world of these people! Let’s get Biblical!

And still the homeless people in London are wondering exactly why a giant fish (I know, I know, Whales are mammals) gets more help in London than they do…

Well, that’s simple. Homeless people aren’t cute, are they? (I’m being sarcastic…)

Item 4) I’m going a bit left-field here. Supermarkets. Yes, it’s not exactly the supermarket that’s the problem here – it’s the sort of people that frequent them. Yes, I know we all do, but there is a special breed of fantasmalogical dick wipe that chooses (as if out of spite) to go to ASDA on a Saturday, right about the same time as me.

These people do not understand queues.

They do not understand restraint.

They do not understand… Well, anything really.

They amble around in their mongolithic hordes, muttering “ready meals” and “pasta sauce” under their collective breaths. These are the people who let their children push the trolleys, or worse just let them play on the floor, or piss in the pork pies. And when you accidentally trip over one of these marauding little satanic bastards, the parent looks at you as if you just shat in her cereal. And then you immediately want to commit a brutal murder.

Of course, when I talk about supermarkets, I also lump in people who work in them. You find someone in their luminescent green top, which has a badge saying “Hallo! I’m retarded! How can I help?”, and you approach them and ask, quite politely, “Where’s the bread? I wouldn’t usually ask but the whole store seems to have changed rather dramatically since I was last here!” (this last bit is inherent to the nature of the supermarket – it is a living beast and as such it changes the shape of its aisles day on day, just to fuck with our minds). Once you’ve asked this question, you get a blank look. A bit of dribble emerges from one corner of the mouth. After a period longer than the Ice-Age, this mongol git utters the words “’s on aisle 7”.

At which point you scream “It talks! It talks! What’re you gonna do next? Go on a quest for fire?”

And you’ll get to aisle 7, and it’s invariably panty-liners and womens things. The store attendant has just fucked you. You don’t want to look like you came down here for nothing, you had such purpose, so you throw some thrush cream and some Tena Lady in to your basket (which is way too fucking small anyway) and get the hell out of there. You then go and find the store attendant to kill him – but he’s gone. He is a mystic fairy in the forest of Associated Dairies.

Final item, Item 5) Anyone, and I mean anyone, who isn’t scared of spiders. That person who says, while you’re frozen with fear in a corner refusing to move – “It’s more scared of you than you are of it!”

No.

No it isn’t. Anything with 8 fucking legs and 8 fucking eyes is fucking fearless. I’ve seen spiders run towards me when I’m trying to catch them in a glass. The weave webs across doors to try and catch humans. They’re persistent, arachnid, malevolent fuckers and I hate them. And as a consequence of that I have a real distrust of people who are not only not scared of them; but who will pick them up.

Even sitting here thinking about it I’m breaking in to a cold sweat.

Listen up. You’re in league with the spiders, and when they take over this world they won’t spare you. They’ll suck out your guts through your eyes and eat you just the same as the rest of us… You’re better off being a Jehovah’s Witness (don’t even get me started...) But not much.

And that’s it. That’s the end of the tirade of the day. And I did it all without saying the word cunt.

Oh, bollocks.

I love all of you individually in your own special ways. Unless you’re the guy in Item 1, or unless you voted for the thing in Item 2, if you supported Item 3, if you work in Item 4, or if you like the creatures in Item 5. But I can be persuaded to change my opinion.

Conspiracy Theories vs Bloody-Minded Normality

2006-01-23T07:25:00.000-08:00

Hello!

So what’s been going on? It’s been a bit of a hectic weekend all told… After work drinks on Friday turned in to a bit of a binge session and Saturday was just full-on, no-holds-barred debauchery. Or Kollin’s birthday as it’s better known. Had the somewhat freaky experience of a girl who could have been no older than sixteen being all over me – eventually there comes a point where tact and diplomacy become rendered useless – and one has to say to these people:

“Look. Will you just fuck off? I’m really not interested. Besides, when I was your age you were still 6, and frankly that just doesn’t bear thinking about. So be on your way, you young rapscallion!”

Christ. Bollocks. Son-of-a-bitch. I’m getting old.

But I’m dealing with it, you know?

Anyway, the night was rounded off with me happily passing out in my room and was followed by a full Sunday of sofa-based sports watching. Olympic Ski Sunday was brilliant, as usual – and with only one week to go until the games, it’s looking pretty good for the UK team. In that we might maybe win a medal, if everyone else dies. Which isn’t so likely. Still, it’s the taking part that counts, eh? Rubbish! It’s about winning! What’s the point in playing if you’re not playing to win?

So why do I write today? You know that I like to have a purpose and not just while away the time telling you about drunken nights and horny teenagers. Today, I’m here to dispel conspiracy theories. So here we go:

1) Cats are, in fact, evil Alien Ninjas.

No. No, I don’t care how much you don’t like cats. They are not from outer space and also, due to the lack of opposable thumb, cannot operate ninja equipment such as throwing stars. I will take the point that if cats did have an opposable thumb they’d probably have taken over the world by now.

2) Tony Blair is a Cunt of Monolithic Proportion.

Umm. OK. You’ve got me on that one. The big smiled, more-Tory-than-Thatcher bastard has pretty much destroyed everything and has introduced crippling debt in to today’s student population. Apparently, we don’t have the money to fund free higher education. Oh, but we do have the money to fight a bloody, immoral, illegal war in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, do we? Oh, that’s good. As long as we’re not creating a class divide… What’s that? We are? Well, why don’t we just go back to the Good old days of the 80’s and get settled down for a good old-fashioned recession? OK, so this isn’t much of a conspiracy theory, so I’m going to make one up. “Tony Blair’s Penis Smell of George Bushes Ass Crack.” Which is not so much Conspiracy Theory as Slander, so I’ll go with (as before plus) “… But the Government Covered it Up”.

3) The Loch Ness Monster

Is, quite frankly, bollocks. For the last hundred years various Drunks, Lunatics, crazy haired ‘Scientists’ (who obviously did WAY too much Acid at college), Tourists (NEVER trust a tourist), and Fishermen have claimed to have seen a huge, crocodile-like-dinosaur-like-hallucination-like-fish-thing in the water up at Loch Ness. Hmm. So what do we do? We send a boat with all sorts of super-fancy bits and pieces on to the Loch to search the fucker out once and for all. What did they find? A plesiosaur? A fuck-off great big bastard of a Dolphin. No. They found (dramatic drum roll!) – BUGGER ALL! Nothing! Nada! Zip! Not even an unusually large cod! I won’t believe it until I’ve seen the bastard myself – and even then I’ll phone my dealer and complain very heavily that the shit is no good. I’m seeing fish, for fuck’s sakes.

4) UFO’s and shit.

I’m grouping in any UFO/Alien/Anal Probe story here. Hang on, hang on. I do believe in intelligent life somewhere else in the universe… I think it would be arrogant not to. But to think that these silver people with black eyes and no nose (and no clothes!) can develop a craft which can traverse the depths of space and possibly even time only to get to earth and crash is beyond me. And why do they always abduct retards? That’s not painting the best picture of the race, is it? What we should do is get Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates and Steve Irwin down to a UFO hotspot and wait for them to be abducted. You might question my choice of Irwin alongside the likes of Hawking and Gates, but the fact is that Grey Alien bastard would get out of his ship or whatever – and Irwin would be on him like “Ah, yeah! I got him now! You can see he’s getting pissed off!” – and then we’d know that it was real, because everything Steve Irwin says is gospel, out of the mouth of God himself. Fact.

Hmm. I can only think of 4 and they’re not even all that specific. But give me a conspiracy theory and I’ll probably be able to tell you why it’s full of bovine doo-doo.

What else is news? Well. Work is the same as usual, a relentless round of grey and boredom. I have no cigarettes, so the day is d-r-a-g-g-i-n-g. I have nothing to do except sit here and blog away happily! And you’re probably thinking, “Jensen, STFU!”

You do have a point there, I suppose.

So after the weekend, Monday brings us crashing back to Normality. I don’t like normality. It’s a strange little town where the local shop has a counter clerk with an unusually high pitched voice and webbed hands. Screw normal, I tells ya, screw it!

Horrid thought – I’ve been working here for a year today! One whole year that I’m never going to get back. Now that is disturbing.

And now I’m nearly done, I’m going to talk about being single.

Being

Single

Blows

Goats.

I’ve been single for a long time now, and I was out on Saturday night and all of the people I was with were couples. Every single bloody one of them. All hand-holdy and kissy-kissy and staring in to each others eyes. And I’m getting more and more pissed off and cynical about this, because (I’ve realised) I want that back. I want someone to cuddle up with and watch a movie on the sofa. I want to wake up next to a woman and realise that I’m the luckiest guy alive to know that she’s with me. I want to hold hands with someone. I want to laugh out loud because they can make me do that. I want someone to play with my hair. I want someone who I can kiss. I want someone to hug me, to hold me, to tell me that everything’s going to be ok. Moreover, I want someone who I can love and know that it’s true and it might even last.

And every now and then I think I find that person. I have someone now who I really like – but the problem is this… They’ve always got boyfriends – or even worse just think of me as ‘Chris’ and not potential relationship material… Perhaps I give off too much of a “I don’t give a fuck” attitude… Perhaps I’m too much the ‘funny’ guy… Perhaps I’m not so good looking after all… Perhaps I smell… (I don’t take any of this too seriously, so hey ho…)

But the main thing for me is this: My flatmate, a lovely guy but socially retarded, can bag himself a girlfriend. Yes, she’s a prissy little rich-bitch, but that’s beside the point. I don’t have to go out with her, do I?

Perhaps I should try this speed dating thing… Or even worse, a dating agency?

But enough about me vis a vis loneliness etc. That’s not fun reading at all, is it?

I’m going to be off. I think I’ve talked enough today. But here’s another song for your delectation:

“Nineteen Would Sink While Twenty Would Swim”

With every light
Of every day
She would turn to me
If only to say
“It’s been nineteen seconds
Since you last said
“You know that I love you”
And predicted my death”
She said that me hurting
Can break her
In an instant
But all of my
Singing
Goes straight to her head
We both bait our hooks
And dangle them down
Just touching the water
Are we
Waiting to drown?
She says
“I won’t let them take you
I won’t open the door
What they took from me
Is mine
And what is mine
I’ll never give”
I stole all her make-up
And painted my face
I hide behind foundation
Been lost here for days
There’s a look that she has
As she walks away
Covering over
Her
Hurt and dismay
She can see
My Shrine
Devout
In my soul
So she prescribes a
Sedative
A lingering kiss
But more and more the
Dirt collects
I’ll never find her now
She never knew the
Difficulty
Of telling her lies
Through a swollen throat
And a Karma debt
Which pales
My regret
And when I
Turned her over
Saw in to her eyes
I saw her
Agony of Oblivion
And her stifling cries
I could never
Help her
But how could
She
See
The light that she gave me
Did nothing but
Burn me
With every light
Of every day
She would turn to me
If only to say
“It’s been twenty seconds
Since you last said
“You know that I love you”
And dragged me to bed”

[I can’t remember if this happened
I’m convinced I saw you leave
And struggle
In to a bed
Of our regret]

Farvel, Oldemor

2006-01-19T01:56:00.000-08:00

A brief post…

In Memoriam.

My Great-Gran in Denmark died yesterday. I found out just as I was walking in to the pub – put a bit of a bleak turn on the evening. My flatmate feels bad – it was his Birthday yesterday and now he thinks that every Birthday from now until forever I’ll remember it as the day my Great-Gran died. She wasn’t my Great-Gran, I’ll give her her proper title.

Oldemor. Oldemor died yesterday.

I have fantastic memories of a jovial, vivacious woman who would always make us eat. I remember she made the best meatballs. I remember she would run up and down her stairs when most of us had real problems with them. I remember her insisting I can’t speak Danish and she would insist upon translating through my family. I remember her house, in the quaint little cobbled streets of Struer. I remember her carpets, her uncomfortable camp-beds, and her smell.

Farvel, Oldemor, farvel. Jeg elske dig.

Christian.

How Will it All End vs Hope for Humaity

2006-01-13T02:20:00.000-08:00

I’m a little… Perturbed at the moment. There’s this pervading sense in my life that this planet is racing towards Armageddon and there’s fuck all anyone can do about it.

I sit here typing this, and I can hear you asking why I’m feeling this just now.

Just read the paper.

Avian flu, scientists believe, is mutating in to a strain which is easily passable to and between humans.

Iran has removed the UN seals in its Nuclear plants – under the premise of developing Nuclear power – but the international community widely believes Iran to be developing Nuclear weaponry. It’s not so hard to believe, when the country has a hard-line political partisan as a leader; a man who believes that Israel is a “blot that should be wiped off of the map”, and that the holocaust (and let’s not forget here that 6,000,000 Jews (before we count the Homosexuals, Communists and anyone else who found themselves in the concentration camps of the Third Reich) is a “Myth”. And that’s only two of his opinions – you just wait until you get him started on the West. But we’re ok, according to the news. Even if Iran does develop a Nuclear capability, they’re still 5 years away from actually being able to deliver it. (Deliver being a military term for “drop a fucking bomb on the Israelis”). Whatever way you look at it, it can’t be long before that American General utters those infamously Bush-esque words once again “When the President gives the call, it’s Hammer Time”.

And no doubt Tony and Britain will be stood behind once again, in sheer and utter political ignorance, waving fist-thick dossiers of intelligence that Iran does have WMD, and that justifies going to a potentially bloody, illegal and ill-thought of war.

But moving on…

Gangs of kids are attacking people – there was a story in the paper today… Well, I say paper, I mean the metro which only just qualifies as decent journalism. It is, after all, produced by the Express Newspapers group – and when was the last time you paid attention to any opinion the Express has put out there? Exactly, never. But the Metro does have one thing going for it – it’s easily digestible news that is bad – but not too bad so as to ruin your commute to work. Decaffeinated news, you might say. Anyway, I digress. There was a story in the paper, about a boy in Manchester who beat a man up so badly that he was in a coma, and now has no memory of his life before the beating. Which was unprovoked – all he did was ask a gang of youths to leave his yard, where he was working on his car. So now he has no memory of his life, of his children growing up, of his time in the Navy, of his wedding day, of his first night with a girl, of the first time he jumped off a bridge, the first time he rode a bike – nothing. His head is now so fragile that he has to wear a helmet to keep it safe and he is in constant pain.

For the record, the kid that did this (and at 16 you are still a kid), is only going to serve a 6-month jail term. And it won’t even be proper jail, it’ll be a young offenders institute. So Playstations, TV’s and 3 square meals a day all round then? Rent free for the next 6-months? What sort of message does that send about living a life of crime and/or violent behaviour?

Yesterday, a crush at Hajj killed 345 people. This was during the part of the pilgrimage that takes place at the bridge of Jamarat – supposedly where Satan tried to tempt Mohammed. There’s three pillars there that represent Satan, and part of the pilgrimage is to cast stones at the pillars (3 stones at each pillar), a symbol of casting Satan out and purging yourself of sin. Problem is, the crowds bottleneck, and these people are so desperate to complete their pilgrimage (and rightly so) they effectively crush each other. Millions of people in one space all trying to throw stones (he who is without sin may cast the first stone) – and if one falls over he’s never going to get up again. 345 people? This is the biggest loss of life during Hajj in the last 16 years (4 years ago 200 people were killed in a similar way) – and the Saudi authorities were “just about” to begin building a $1bn network of bridges and slipways to ease the pressure. Just about isn’t good enough. And, as much as you would want to finish your pilgrimage, if that is your faith, what ever happened to helping your fellow man?

But the crowd effectively ignored the plight of the 345 people who were killed, and the only reason for it is they were trying to complete an intense spiritual journey. People die every year while undertaking this, and for some reason it’s viewed more as ‘collateral damage’ as opposed to a tragic loss of human life.

Radical, fundamentalist clerics who live in the west are preaching murder and racial hatred in our own back yard. (See 7/7 for confirmation of this).

Hurricanes, Earthquakes and Tsunami’s rock countries all over the world every other month. People are dying in their thousands.

It seems to me that, as human beings and the dominant species on this little planet – we’re for the chop either way. I’m not preaching doom – I know the end of the world isn’t around the corner and the world is much more stable now that it was, say, at the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis. This isn’t Judgement Day – not yet, anyway. All’s I’m trying to say is, if we fail in killing each other and blowing each other up and stamping each other to death – Mother Nature has her own little backup plan. It’s like we’ve infected this planet. We’re making her suffer.

And it’s our ignorance – and in some cases (this is you, Mr. Bush) political stupidity that is preventing us from stopping the damage before it’s too late. All the US (the biggest polluter in the world) had to do was sign the Kyoto treaty, and we could have all worked together to make the world just a slightly better place.

Who said revolution never changed anything? Who said that the few shouting voices could never make a difference? Where is he who won’t bang with us while the band plays?

I was in a play a few years ago called ‘Singer’. I had the privilege of taking on this vast and technically very complex role. ‘Singer’ was written in the 1980’s, and was performed with Anthony Sher in the title role by the RSC. It’s a political satire on the Thatcherite Government, and also on the life of Peter Rachmann, a polish Jew who came to the UK after being liberated from Auschwitz. He eventually came to London, became a slum lord, a hero of the Thatcherite housing movement and an Antithesis of everything he ever was. “If we had all night,” laments the chorus in the opening scene of the play “if we had all night and another day. If we had a thousand skeletons to stamp their feet upon the cold earth and not these barefoot actors on a wooden stage. If we had an army of stage crew to bring on Auschwitz central by day and wheel on Clapham Common by night. If we had make up artists who could perform miracles with likenesses. We could never give you all of the fantastical life of Peter Singer”.

Peter Singer (Rachmann) who was forced to eat the shit off of a Ukranian camp guards boot. Peter Singer, who witnessed his best friend (Stefan Guttman) be forced to send girls, young girls, Children, to the camp guards office – just so they could survive another night. Peter Singer, who was forced to beat a German Communist about the head until the poor man lost sense of who he was. Peter Singer, who cam to London, became successful, faked his own death, came to life again and was eventually burned out of his own house by the people who held him as a hero. “Arbeit Macht Frei?” says Peter, “no, work does not bring freedom. It brings only death. You enter Auschwitz through a gate – you leave through a Chimney”.

But why am I telling you all this? Am I trying to prove the Holocaust did happen? We all know it did. No, that’s not my point. I’m trying to give you a background in to Peter’s personality, a narcissistic misogynist who spent his entire life on the make – but proved that at least one leopard could change its spots. At the end of the play, as he’s running out of a burning building, he says something particularly poignant:

“When someone employs a cast of thousands, creating a vast Wagnerian machine, just to turn you in to soap – it’s hard to take entirely seriously the idea of progress.”

And that’s the message I’m trying to put across here. Unless we learn from the lessons that history has taught us – we will implode.

Only we can change this. Only we few can fight the system and make our voices heard.

Please – let’s save ourselves before it’s too late.

“And there we have it… Have we told the truth? Yes. Have we told the whole truth? No. For this is a theatre, and we could not possibly hope to tell everything. But we could. If we had all night. And another day.”

Love,

Chrisxx

Merry Christmas vs Happy New Year

2005-12-29T08:46:00.001-08:00

Dear Friends,

This will possibly be my last post of 2005. And what a year it has been.

I have nothing of great note to say today - except Christmas was a-ok, just glad to be back in the freezing city! I hope you all had a wonderful time, and that Santa was good to you all!

There was one thing that let it down for me - the pervading sense of loneliness. I was at friends houses, or family do's - and was hit by the shattering realisation that I'm the only single one now. I'm hitting the age where all of my cousins are married, or partnered off, and having babies and settling down - and as a result of that my Grandparents are asking when I'm going to get married.

Which I laugh off - my longest relationship lasted 2 years and that ended in a pit of shit, why would I want that again? - but the laughter only really covers a very deep insecurity. I hate being alone.

Oh well, I'm sure if I had love I'd have something to moan about then, too.

Anyhoo - have an amazing NYE. If you have someone to love, make sure you love them extra-specially well! If you don't, love your friends, or your family, or yourself.

Because we're all special, we all deserve a glimmer of hope...

**
Missing You

I miss you so much that sometimes I feel like I’m running out of breath.
I hate being alone so much that every second of every minute you’re not here feels like an eternity.
I want someone to hold so much that my arms feel empty and useless.
If I could prove to you how much I need you by any means necessary, I would.
I would paint my heart across the sky, and wither myself away for you.
I would write a thousand songs – none of which would make any difference – just to see you read them.
I will life to be like the movies…
And you would turn…
And you would come back to me…
But I cannot be selfish.
You cannot be me.
And I cannot be you.
I would give away everything I have, give up everything I am, for one last moment with you.
And when I hold you I can smell your hair – and I know you know that I never want to let go.
Do I love you still?
No.
I miss you, and there’s no-one here to replace you.
I miss you so much.
I miss you so much that sometimes I feel like I’m running out of breath.

**

I love you all. And it's nice to know we all go to sleep under the same sky.

Please, make peace.

Cx

Learning Stuff vs Steve from Essex

2005-12-15T09:53:00.000-08:00

Hello.

Hell.

Hel.

He.

H.

I think, when all is said and done, I need a little help. Today I have been singing the Monkey song a lot (by the way – check out www.weebls-stuff.com and watch the Weebl and Bob series of cartoons – they are fabulous), and generally trying to fight my way through this quagmire that is known only as ‘work’ – a strange and mystical thing which I’m still not sure I understand…

I read in the Metro this morning a letter that this one guy had sent in. He was bitching about the use of the term ‘Santa Claus’ instead of ‘Father Christmas’, and saying he was sick of people using Americanisms. Hello? Americanisms? Does this guy know nothing about Christmas? ‘Santa Claus’, as I’m sure we’re all aware is a colloquial term which was derived from the words ‘St. Nicholas’ – who is the patron fucking saint of Christmas!! So screw you, Steve from Essex, and the horse you rode in on.

What else can I lace your eyes with today? It’s been a pretty good one – managed to waste most of it doing a sum total of sweet fuck all, I wrapped a Secret Santa present and shared lunch with one of the most beautiful people in the world (my best friend) on the Embankment. I bitch a lot about this city – but sometimes when I sit back and just watch the world go by, I love it. I love its vibrancy, its colour and its pace. I love it when it’s dark. I love it early in the morning. I love it when it’s cold. I love it when it’s hot.

And let me tell you this – the women here are beautiful. I probably should get around to getting me one of them!

I have also been learning Afrikaans. I can now say good morning to you, tell you when I’m fed up, say the word beer, and identify a strange, millipede type creature.

It’s been a day of learning and no mistake!

Right. I’m off to write a letter to the Metro, and Steve from Essex.

B.

By.

Bye.

Make peace,

Chris