Don't want to end up a cartoon in a cartoon graveyard....

So I looked in The Book of Cool to see if blogging is still cool.
Turns out it's not so cool.

22nd of June and things are looking Juneish to say the least, except the odd cloud of heavy rain which appears be lost its way in endless blue. But you didn't really need to be told that. That's not what's important.

What is important is ME!
ME! is important

So I'll tell you the lowdown of my last week cause I know you're just dying to hear it.
I've enjoyed certain things like the music on the Occupation trailers and the Walls Happy Mix, ('cause, you know, sometimes a full sized Twister can be just a bit too much). I've also enjoyed getting my NEW STUFF which I thought was important enough to put in capitols. I can now take photos in focus and ring someone while knowing exactly what numbers I'm punching. How freakin' convenient is that? Well, the camera I have is actually exactly the same, except working. And the cheap phone I have is... a Nokia-something. It's black.

I haven't enjoyed certain things like school, which is less demanding and frustrating than before but is still, you know, school, so it's on my suck list. I am not looking forward to spending a weekend with my dad, which sounds dickishly ungrateful because it means I won't enjoy three days of rock climbing, canooeing and archery with some people who are probably quite friendly. I don't feel any kind of bond with my father or brother which is a bit sad. I'm more of a mummy's boy and I never liked the idea of a brother. Not that I don't like mine particularly. It's this 'one-of-a-kind' complex that dictates a lot of my life.

Father figures have been a key theme of this week, not just because Father's Day has recently passed.
I've finished reading 'Fight Club' which is really about men who reject father figures and head down a route of self-destruction. This theme is more apparent than it was in the film, it's interesting.
I've been reading about super-ego and all that Freudian stuff which talks about the father figure symbol in psychology. I noticed I've been abandoning my super-ego recently and been acting more on my impulsive desires, rejecting social boundaries slightly, some of my psychosis has been seeping through and odd behaviour has become apparent in public. I don't think I'm dangerous or anything though.

I'm feeling a bit alienated and I hope that I could deepen some friendships here, I mean you, reading this blog, maybe you could call or something, that would be nice. Not that you've done anything wrong, it's just that a lot of people seem like strangers. Otherwise life has been good and only small things have been ticking me off, like people and how I wish they had more quirks and less trends, that kind of stuff, this is how I manage to alienate myself.

Anyway, that's my thoughts on things,
thanks for reading.

Stay special
x

Everybody needs a touch of insanity

This blog may be pointless but I'll keep tapping away anyway.
I started wondering why certain people keep blogs and take part in all blogging goingson. I thought if anybody reading this could post a comment giving their own personal motives that would be real neat-o.
I read blogs because blogs say things that people don't say in conversations. And I'm not too hot in conversations so I suppose reading and writing blogs is easier. I like learning more about people, their lives and personalities. It just interests me.

I was inspired to write this by various people who have declared 'hating' blogs.
Seriously guys, can we stop hating things and be a little understanding to people's preferences.
It's exactly the kind of thing that I hate.

But as most of you reading this would be regular blogmongers my reply was mostly pointless.

The rest of this blog was going to be dedicated to subjects such as family and religion.
Instead I may go back to that another day and just briefly summarise my weekend with visual aids.
I'm trying to make these posts shorter anyway.


So anyway I walked to the top of the Brecon Beacons on Saturday and was pestered by old ladies in funny white hats.





Yes I'm vain.



I cared not for the Piz Buin






I mean look! Even my EYES were sunburnt!



Most of our home photos now include Wilson.
He's such a camera hogger.







I had a Capri Sun the other day.
I thought this was worth mentioning because of just how awesome it seemed at the time.

In Brecon I took many a photo.
These are some of the ones my mother praised for being 'artsy fartsy'






Isn't Wales nice?





for another late post...




Stay cool x

Stream of Consciousness

Ok, I admit to heavily preparing my posts before publishing them. I'm midly paranoid about not coming across as another geeky teenager who seems to think he's cleverer than he is. And on the other hand I don't want to come across as a novice or just plain wierd.

In fact I often wonder how wierd people see me as, after all, I'm mentally unstable and generally socially inept. I always listen to what strangers say when they pass me and always assume that they're talking about me, I panic that I look strange, dressed wierdly or come across as a complete nutjob even if they're talking about each others shoes, it's just who I am. Although sometimes I assume they're saying something nice to me as well.

I just realised that I've started to turn this unprepared, spontaneous speech in to something which is actually pretty deep and revealing. I often restrain from talking about myself anyway and I guess this is a kind of release. I think I'm a very interesting person, psychologically, not particularly physically. I have a great life and a good childhood, which I'm constantly grateful for, I wonder sometimes why I act the way I do, I try not to think of myself as selfish or ungrateful in this way because that often leads to me being more depressed. I said not particularly physically but I'm not sure if that was the right word to use, what I meant to imply was that interesting things rarely happen in my life. Sometimes I crave excitement, my life is great, but there's no excitement. Even if it's something bad, it can be good if it's exciting. I worry that this could lead to trouble but maybe I only worry this because worrying is exciting. It's probably fiction that distorts my view this way. When David, my phsychiatrist, asked what I wanted I said that I 'want to be fiction'. Life has no story, I know this, but I like to think that it has. I often practice a kind of doublethink, pretending certain things didn't happen when I reall;y know they did. It's a bad habit but it makes life seem like a much simpler place.
'The world is what you want it to be' I once scrawled somewhere.
Do I seek normality? What is normality? Would I know what normality feels like? A landscape through a kalaedoscope. A happy place, what everyone wants. Those who have paradise will always want more. Two lovers placed in a room will eventually learn to hate each other at some point. A crowded room full of people who can't see me, when I speak, who listens? Is conversation better when it is written down? Flaws can be evident over time, but that does not create a bad person. One shouldn't be predicted. My country is invaded my Nazis. A plane goes missing. A nursery has burnt and I pretend this doesn't happen. On the occasion that I feel something, I cry. People can be disguises, am I wearing one? Disguises to entertain, people are trends and people are performances and maybe I am just me. Restrained emotion can eat away inside you. 'The problem is Tim, what length can you go to to express yourself?' -David. The receptionist at the clinic called me a nut. Opinion is not truth. Dissapear Here.

I guess I'm just a happy boy that worries too much.

Maybe I shouldn't post so much about my new dog

....or maybe not

Here's some pictures of him

Wilson vs flower-pot

Wilson vs water

Wilson vs me





Wilson rest(ish)

and of course... Buddha Wils

Stay classy
























x

Apologies

First off. After considering (I did, honest, of cause I did, why wouldn't I? Don't you believe me? I honestly, hand on my heart, considered each and every individuals comment. Honestly) the comments on the previous three posts about this previously unnamed puppy, we've decided to call him Wilson.

I apologise I know it's not everyone's cup of rosey lee but there was some confliction about the name Dexter, right from the fact that it was adopted from the first name of a fictional serial killer.

I hope you'll forgive me for not posting in a while as on top of all the Art and Key Skills work I suddenly have to do I've had to stop Wilson from eating/urinating on/jumping off/drowning in/obliterating everything that he comes across, including people so hopefully you'll understand. No pictures yet as I'm still cameraless and phone-screenless so yeah, I guess I'm sorry for that as well.

Apologies over. Now let's talk about my future.
Art is a bastard. A big bastarding knobhead that's been getting on my tits. I suddenly admire all of you that didn't take it, which at the moment I think is everyone. First of all, it's just not art. art is about distorting someone's perception of the world, it comes in the whatever form the artist imagines it to come in. Any attempt to apply structure or logic to it is pointless, it's a spontaneous vision that is entirely unique and it can come when it's ready. It's not other people's work and it's not just things that look pretty and it's not experimentation with different forms and styles, it's not development of ideas. Methods of art can be taught in a school but art itself is taught only by the world.
Which puts me in a bit of a pickle.
All of this sounds like an excuse from my, let's face it, crap art but I assure you that is only partially true.
So what to do?
I want 3 and a half A levels by the end of school. I could get by with 2 and it's pretty much a given that these would be English and Media, I just want to be safe. So I'm shooting for half a Spanish next year and I know that I've already failed Art and don't intead on taking it next year (see rant above). Do I take something else? Brace myself and take it anyway? Take nothing instead? Any other subject would be a half and it would probably be in college, if I could take Politics or Philosophy that would be good and I know I'd do well in Graphics. Then, will my grades be good enough for a Journalism course? As it happens, this is all of what I put as the answer to the problem solving exercise about what to do after leaving Year 13, except this has slightly less explecitives.

Another thing I don't like: Being known as a 'creative sort'. It's a stereotype and it suggests that I can't do anything useful. Which is particularly fustrating because it's absolutely true. Maybe I should take less creative subjects.

Another apology for just how dull this blog was, even after taking so long to post. I'll make a much more exciting one next time probably containing various jokes about nuns and Scientologists. But for now this'll have to do and I'll just apply some ironic tags.
stay sexy
x

[John Baldessari 1968]

Wexton?

latest puppy name update

Wesley, Dexter or Wilson?

It's a doozey

stay sharp x

Chewed Shoelaces

Wierdly, I think doing extra time in school is cool.

It's the fact that you can arrive at whenever-the-hell 'o clock without a uniform and a perfectly adjusted quiff (I had a bit more time to adjust my quiff. It is now perfectly adjusted) and on top of that whenever your work gets a bit heavy you are free to leave whenever you want and roam. I suppose this was also true for all of my Art lessons in the past but I could never roam without feeling a little bit dirty, plus, after-school roaming is always more pleasurable when you can think 'Hey, I didn't have to come in to school at all' and smile smugly, then you can go outside with your snazzy non-uniform and scoff at some younger uniformed pupils. I scoff at younger pupils quite a lot, often while lighting a cigar on my burning old uniform and laughing in to the wind. It's a hobby of mine. Speaking of which, what the hell is going on at school? I know there's exams and such but why are so many littler pupils outside having picnics while others are in lessons? And why does everyone ignore the break buzzer now? It messes with your head. Without my phone, watch and camera I'm directionless enough already. There must be an explaination.
So staying in school was what I did this morning and after I did a fair bit of art and ran out of cigars and blue polo shirts to burn I set out to get my puppy.

My FRIGGIN' puppy!!

It was long journey to Ross-on-Wye and I had a little nap because I was tired and at one point I think I saw a buzzard. But as much as I'd like to tell you about the rest of that exhilirating journey I'll skip to the point.

The puppy lived by a placed called 'Hole-in-the-Wall' and I mused about how a small country town in West England got to be called Hole-in-the-Wall. I thought that maybe I could invent a witty imaginary scenario in which the olde English settlers of Yore came about this curious moniker. But I couldn't really think of one which wasn't rubbish so I fell back to sleep.
On the acount of that I can already see my blog ratings drop by the second I think I'll skip ahead a bit longer.

The puppy (as I already knew through visiting this place previously but you didn't so I'll inform you anyway) lived with a nice old lady and her nice old husband in a house, in a very big house in the country. He was a bloody big pup with a taste for shoelaces, particularly my shoelaces as well as my bare legs. Granted through experience I should have worn trousers instead of three-quaters but the bites didn't hurt too much and he gave up after a while... the coward. We both agreed that he was the cutest darn puppy in the world, went through some quick paperwork, paid and gave the nice old lady some flowers for being just so nice then scooted off. I realise that I should've informed you that I was travelling with my father and we are not schizophrenic - I am not schizophrenic, I can't drive and if I could I would rarely drive while napping, it was my dad who filled in the forms and paid while I was busy getting the skin bitten off my thighs, the little terror.
Default unnamed puppy continued to be just lovely and much cooing occured. There was a small welcoming party from family friends and a lot of time was dedicated to the naming process. I got fed up in the end and considered calling him Hole-in-the-Wall. Anyway the naming rundown is as follows:

Current favourite:
Wilson (partially after the musician Wilson Pickett, but mostly after the volleyball from Castaway - as well as the tennis ball cylinder that lies in the car for some reason)

Benson
Wesley
and slightly less popularly:
Henry
Floyd

+ my six-year-old cousin's suggestion: Sizzles

By then it was probably too late to go to band practice and the weather was a bit pants for the picnic that I wasn't sure was going on.
So I checked Blogger and was happy at the comments from my first post. I thought it went quite well and I even managed to fit in a little mildy topical joke about the labour party.

Stay beautiful
x

Writing Blogs and Terminator

So I realised a few people had made some blogs recently and I asked myself "Do I have a blog?"
So I checked Blogger and... I do have a blog!
So I decided that I'll update said blog and actually post something in it and somewhere along the line maybe I'll get famous. But bare in mind I'm not an experienced bloggist I haven't got a degree in blogology and I appologise if I break any of the international rules of bloggering. I just have very little school or college work left to do and this just happpens to be the thing that I feel that you could give up your time to read.


Here's hoping.








I'm going to be starting with yesterday because I was going to post then but couldn't fit in the time and nothing too interesting happened today anyway.






So I saw Terminator Salvation yesterday. Terminator: Salvation? Terminator -Salvation? It's hard to keep track of subtitles these days. But anyway I saw it in Showcase because the trailers looked pretty impressive and I wanted to get out of the house and because it features Christian Bale (who is actually a very very good actor, if a bit stale in this film). It turned out to be a fairly enjoyable 115 minutes. Also, it gave me a chance to notice that Helena Bonham Carter has a bit of a beard. Or was it just her character, who had cancer? Do people with cancer grow beards? The first two Terminators were better and I haven't seen the third, although my friend Ben rates it as 'Epic Shit'- he has a scale of film ratings that range from 'Not That Shit' to 'Shit', 'Big Shit', 'Giant Shit' and finally 'Epic Shit'. He doesn't like films so much. Also, I actually thought number 2 was better than number 1, but hey, that's just me. Don't hang.

Other than watching big budget robot films I have been genuinely busy finishing the rest of my Art, seeing my shrink, shortlisting names for new puppy, sending off my broken phone to get fixed as well as my broken watch and broken camera and watching the penultimate episode of The Apprentice.

If you don't watch The Apprentice I respect you. Cause television is bad and all that. But it is bloody hilarious and the best place to go for watching the worst human beings in the world group together to make some unbelievably bad decisions.
Apart from in the Labour Party.

Now it's time to kick back and try to wait for tomorrow.

What's happening tomorrow you say?

Why, I'm getting... A PUPPY!
a FREAKIN' PUPPY!
and he's FREAKIN' CUTE!

looky





yep, that's the little guy.
Shortlist of names so far in no order:

Walter
Wesley

Denzil
Wilson
Benson
Riley
Floyd
Dexter
Thor, Swamp Thing, Ra, LL Cool J, Batman and more...

Leave a comment if you got something to say

Stay fresh.