sundays at the supermarket

dilemma

2007-11-28T15:42:00.000+01:00

I found a Ouagadougou on my map and now I don’t know if I should hand it over to the police.

observation

2007-11-28T15:40:00.000+01:00

This is not Shenzhen, they don’t do fake Gucci here.

logic for the mentally unchallenged III

2007-11-28T15:38:00.002+01:00

There are no atheists in foxholes. They’ve stopped signing up for lost causes long ago.

logic for the mentally unchallenged II

2007-11-28T15:38:00.001+01:00

To overcome the hen-and-egg problem, you simply have to stop believing in poultry. No one would even ask which was first, lamb or cow.

logic for the mentally unchallenged I

2007-11-28T15:34:00.000+01:00

If you don’t shut up, I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to my dogs. What, I don’t have any dogs? Well, then you don’t have any balls.

Jane-in-the-box: Appearances

2007-04-25T00:38:00.000+02:00

Ok, my name is Daniel Taylor, Taylor with a y. I live in The Meadows, room 07-03 in CV1 3LW Meadow Street, Spon End and I’d like to report a crime. I did. No, sir. No, I haven’t. Well, it started about a week ago. I came back from work around six in the morning and it was already getting light. Since I am regularly working the night shifts, I find it hard to go to sleep right away and usually

the depressive's guide to existence: library

2007-02-28T12:07:00.000+01:00

In olden times: A place in which books were stored and which got burned down every time a new emperor seized power. Nowadays: A place which encourages people to hang out, talk noisily and block the aisles whilst pretending to do serious work. Makes one wish back for frequent changes of emperors.

the depressive's guide to existence: reality

2007-01-11T17:54:00.000+01:00

An elaborate practical joke.

the depressive's guide to existence: hangover

2007-01-11T17:48:00.000+01:00

Same state as usual plus a pink fog in the brain that keeps shrouding reality's very fascinating different shades of grey.

the depressive's guide to existence: university

2007-01-09T15:24:00.000+01:00

Natural habitat of a species that miraculously escaped natural selection.

the depressive's guide to existence: forty-two

2007-01-05T21:28:00.000+01:00

Not the result of eight multiplied with six.

the depressive's guide to existence: sexuality

2007-01-05T20:54:00.000+01:00

Highly overrated. Seems to involve a piece of furniture commonly used to stash away the odd bits and bobs and a far from exhaustive terminology invoked at regular intervals.

the depressive's guide to existence: world

2007-01-05T20:46:00.000+01:00

Mostly indifferent.

the butt mutt

2006-12-30T22:17:00.000+01:00

Once upon a time, not long ago, I was sitting in the office of our little theatre trying to come up with a good idea for a story about food. I had chosen the theatre because in those days, the days between Christmas and New Year, it was quiet and secluded. That, and very, very messy, as I found when I went into the kitchen to prepare myself a nice cup of tea. Used coffee mugs, dirty dishes, a pot

things to do with food

2006-12-13T18:02:00.000+01:00

1. Buy your vegetables at the supermarket, special offer. Fuck the local farmers, fuck the food miles. Walk. 2. Stash it away in the fridge and forget about it. 3. Finally, remember it.

the meadows

2006-12-13T17:54:00.000+01:00

The morning after the storm I left my pad without locking the door. The wind had been raging all night and the rain beat hard against the window panes. Now, everything was quiet. The wail of the sirens had long died down. The downpour had turned into a slight drizzle, and the trees, relieved of the weight of their leaves, were slowly swaying in the breeze. I had a headache. I stepped into the

recently noticed

2006-08-11T13:06:00.000+02:00

Being a square does not seem unappealing at times.My prose is almost as bad as David G. Roberts'.One only has time when there is nothing to do.

spilt milk, or the use of crying

2006-08-11T12:53:00.000+02:00

What? So, you are a girl, a woman by now. What if that does not satisfy you? You're nowhere near. You know it.It is a little sad, don't you think, to see yourself wasting away, unfulfilled and wallowing in self-pity. You don't want that, and yet you do, yes you do. Because it is the closest you can ever get.When you are alone, in your own mind and the outside's out and the inside is inside of you

so long, jimmy : 2

2006-04-03T13:33:00.000+02:00

[...] Amazed and at a loss for words, I smiled back and gestured towards my half-empty glass.“I’m good, thanks.” I said, but he wouldn’t have any of that.“Wha’d’you want?” He didn’t wait for an answer and ordered another pint of FourX. Alright, it would be horse-piss then tonight, fine with me. I grabbed a stool and sat down next to him.“Th’Crooners are fucking brilliant,” he stated. Obviously,

epilogue

2006-02-04T15:27:00.000+01:00

Just recently, I came across the play After the Rain (Després de la Pluja) by Sergi Belbel. It was lying on the desk in the office of our little theatre. Bored and having run out of something to do, I grabbed the three essential Cs – a chair, a cigarette, a coffee – and started reading.Employees meet on the roof of their company’s tall building to enjoy their at-work cigarette. The sky

not agree

2006-01-25T21:05:00.000+01:00

I do not agree with the linguists who say that it is the complexity of our language that distinguishes us from the animal. It is our ability to surround ourselves with things we despise and that we are uncomfortable with, happily denying our unease and anxieties just to… to do what?

on cannery row

2006-01-25T20:55:00.000+01:00

The word is a symbol and a delight which sucks up men and scenes, trees, plants, factories, and Pekinese. Then the Thing becomes the Word and back to Thing again, but warped and woven into a fantastic pattern. The Word sucks up Cannery Row, digests it, and spews it out, and the Row has taken the shimmer of the green world and the sky-reflecting seas. (from: Cannery Row by John Steinbeck) It

so long, jimmy : 1

2006-01-23T20:33:00.000+01:00

It was some lonely Friday at the end of the first term of my second year. My Fridays were invariably spent in solitude, peering into my books on economics and wishing that whole fucked-up system to hell. I remember that it was Friday exactly because it was lonely and quiet, a state not often to be encountered in our house. At the time, I was living with four other second-year students in

would

2006-01-20T19:35:00.000+01:00

Would it be of any help if I mentioned that I was voted on the board of our little theatre?Would that be a good excuse?Would it be of any help if I mentioned that I do yet another director's assistance and that instead of getting shitfaced in front of a screen I'm getting wasted during rehearsals?Would that be a good excuse?Would it be of any help if I mentioned sort of in an aside that I'm

a new year. inert

2006-01-03T19:36:00.000+01:00

A new year, a new chance to fail. I see the flame of the night-light die and watch my tea getting cold. Inert. Aim higher, think bigger, and where are you now? Inert. Sooner or later you will write it out, bleed it out. One way or the other. Words drizzle slowly from my hands; the keyboard is sticky with the residue of tea and wine. The letters saccharine molecules forming an impenetrable,

aim higher, think bigger 2

2005-12-22T01:41:00.000+01:00

Consent (not condescending). He said yes. He is d'accord. Green light. Now I wait for the days to pass until I can begin. There is light?

no entry

2005-12-21T22:53:00.000+01:00

- And will you write him the letter?- I don’t know.- Why not? Hey, what is there to lose?- Nothing… Oh, I don’t know.- So, why don’t you?- I don’t know what to write. Isn’t it a bit silly, all this?- No, it isn’t. Look, shall we practice a little?- I don’t know.- Don’t know what?- I mean, I’m not sure this is a good idea.- Just tell me what you would tell him, and then you’ll see if it sounds

aim higher, think bigger 1

2005-12-21T22:37:00.000+01:00

strange elatedness got hold of me the resolve to dare what i never thought could work i feel like kicking something sit down and write this application be successful outdo them all whatever they thought i'll show them they were wrong not meant to study too lazy no stamina well fuck yous me in the embassy british council management would that work ever ever ever work could i do that could i aim

fool-proof

2005-12-09T03:16:00.000+01:00

And the sun sets around 15:35. The cutout of a tree behind the window stretches to the sky, sad and sorry, seemingly aware of the futility of his endeavor. The window ends, thus he must end. There is no outside world that is not caught in a frame, preserved behind glass, sterile. Venturing out into the lifeless cosmos of the streets, I unconsciously anticipate the smell of disinfectant. My world

i want out and i want a drink

2005-12-08T23:49:00.000+01:00

Nothing more, nothing less.

shopping, no fucking

2005-12-08T00:40:00.000+01:00

This is my desk. This here, this is a full ashtray. It sits there in a free spot on the light-brown veneer. The rest of said desk is not to be seen. Covered in paperwork, paper, work. Paper I work on. Paper I should work on. Paper I have worked on already. Paper I will simply ignore until the third reminder to hand it in within the next two weeks reaches my otherwise empty letterbox. I love

window-shopping

2005-12-08T00:07:00.000+01:00

I amble through the city-centre, I’m in no rush. Opening my eyes feels like watching a video on fast-forward, distorted voices hurriedstepsbarelyrecognizable faces. I choose my steps carefully; try not to step on the crack between the concrete tiles. Anything could break now, I could easily go to pieces any time. There is no certainty, it is just a feeling. I watch my feet, watch the lower half

wave

2005-12-07T00:27:00.000+01:00

And then I get this feeling and it rolls over me like a gigantic wave… my feet are pulled away from under my body; I slam hard on the shore, sand scorches my skin, then the water pulls back and washes me away like a piece of flotsam. I am drifting, floating out to sea; the further out it goes, the calmer the waters grow until I’m merely bobbing up and down up and down like some misled yellow

a mess

2005-12-06T23:20:00.000+01:00

How to begin? I live in one of those council flats in Spon End – you know what it’s like, they’re all the same. Drab and dingy they cower against the grey serpent that is the ring road; both a reminiscence of the 60s futile strife for modernity carved in concrete. In one of these I live. The windowpane on the corridor is shattered, the staircase smells of piss, the air is stale and the colour on

the untranslatable

2005-12-06T08:32:00.000+01:00

Oh, I confess. I have been shamelessly neglecting this blog. Oh, and I repent. It's been a long time. The project with the brats has been cancelled. Neither were they really interested nor could they muster up the courage to give it a go anyways. Thus, more free-time and less theatre for me.The reasons for me absence: manifold. October was a busy month. Finally, I went to uni again, and I loved

scared

2005-09-22T11:12:00.000+02:00

Today, in no less than five hours, we're going to meet the brats for the first time. THE BRATS, I say, and mean the kids aged 13 to 16 with whom we'll do our theatre project. The play is Eric Bogosian's Suburbia, and if the brats are anything like the characters in the play, I'll top myself. Seriously. Thing is, though, that they'll probably be worse. It is not without a good reason that we've

the voter, n. (sing.): narrow-minded, malevolent, ignorant creature wilfully putting at risk the well-being of his master and servant, the politician

2005-09-21T18:47:00.000+02:00

Cold it is outside, already. The sun is setting behind the old, neglected villas. The leaves show first traces of red and yellow. Autumn is stealing in. Goldfrapp is playing in the background. I am sitting in front of the screen and blow my nose every other minute. I have a bad cold. As I might have mentioned already, autumn is stealing in. Slowly, but steadily. I know, because I have a cold. I

rock on! or else you'll wake up the baby...

2005-09-06T13:39:00.000+02:00

Well - I am well aware that it is no Sunday today. The thing about the Sundays is more like, ehm, a guideline, anyway. Principles are made to be thrown overboard in the right moment... Something like that. You know where I'm coming from.Anyway. Last week was my sister's wedding party. The fact she got married last December didn't bother any of the guests - even though she and my brother-in-law

in favour of getting lost

2005-08-14T15:04:00.000+02:00

In general, losing one’s way is considered an undesirable event. However, I feel that the opportunities of getting lost are widely underestimated. For instance, I took up riding the bike. For weeks I had been suffering from a backache that was due to too little exercise and too much hanging around. Thinking that if hanging around gives me a backache and puts me in a bad mood, I should maybe start

me, myself and i . . . and ant

2005-08-07T08:32:00.000+02:00

Yeah, right, I shouldn't be drinking just because other people do - my hangover dutifully reminded me of that when I got up yesterday morning to go to a friend's birthday brunch - but it was soo nice. Really. Oh come on, just the one... two. Just give me the bottle, will you?So, Friday was a really nice evening - rather: the part that I remember was great. The rest I do not... well, remember.

sexual boredom

2005-07-31T17:44:00.000+02:00

People seem to be searching for the weirdest things on Google. For instance, while I was trying to find out what the hell a 'Google Keyword Tool' is (You think it's self-explanatory? Yeah, just shut up.) , this said tool asked to enter a name descriptive of my webpage. Honestly, I wouldn't know how to describe it - I mean, it's neither necessary nor is it anything at all, it just is - and for

the remains of those days

2005-07-24T16:36:00.000+02:00

Sitting in my new, my very own room, I admire the cornflower-blue wall in front of my desk. It is my very own blue wall. I love it. In fact, I admire the whole room. Its old art-deco cupboards, the shelves full of English books, the large desk with so much space to write and scribble on, my new bed. I do nothing but admiring my room while listening to Kerrang 105.2 on the internet to feed the

everything's short notice

2005-05-29T18:37:00.000+02:00

Just some short lines on a Sunday to remind me to replace this with a longer entry as soon as I've got a reliable internet access and more time than I do have now (and favourably a room of my own).Thou shalt not listen to disgusting music or look at revolting pictures in my presence... Thank you.

hooker and ken

2005-05-01T18:29:00.000+02:00

This will be my last post from Cov for probably some years - if not forever. I will have to make do without internet for some weeks now; however, I will try to write at home and publish from my uni, so I guess my move shouldn't interfere too much with this little experiment.In dandy_assissin's livejournal I read about the documentary 'The Corporation', and thus decided to watch it myself. It was

ivory towers are for jumping

2005-04-24T15:57:00.000+02:00

It's a lovely day. The sun is shining, the sky is a hazy blue, children are playing in the neighbour's garden; in short, it's lovely. Apart from the bugs, that is. They bug me, and they find my coffee as attractive as this stupid fly does find my perfume (What the hell do they do with this stuff?).In a sudden bout of vanity, I've decided to wear but a T-shirt and my new, white (and extremely

anyway

2005-04-19T01:02:00.000+02:00

So here I am again, back from Dresden, back in Cov and dead unhappy.On the morning of April the 6th I got on the bus, caught the coach, boarded the plane, bought a ticket for the train... and realized that a) the ticket vending machines never work when you need them and that b) I really truly love Dresden. The train slowed down a few miles outside the city, and suddenly I felt the trees and

Back to Dresden!

2005-04-05T23:09:00.000+02:00

Since I will leave for Dresden tomorrow, I thought it'd be a good idea to give a short update today.I've finally finished Rushdie's Midnight's Children, and was thoroughly impressed with its narrative structure. I found it hard to follow at times, due to my lack of knowledge of Indian history, so I guess I will brush up on that and then read it again in a year's time. Saleem, the narrator, also

the road leads where it's led

2005-04-03T20:22:00.000+02:00

It is Sunday, and it is sunny. What a coincidence. Life is full of coincidences; I just never come across them.When I woke up this morning, 13:13, I would have been delighted to see the sun shining through my window, but it was too late already. With disbelief I looked at my clock, it said (you name it) 13:13. The shops in England close at 16:00 on a Sunday, and I desperately needed to do some