Number Nine With A Mind Bullet

My Disturbing Emo Tendancies Continue...

Tue, 23 Mar 2004 20:56:37 GMT

take the emo quiz. created by jessi

See?! Ah well... hehe I need to buy a satchel and some horn rimmed glasses now right?

A Pointless Entry

Tue, 23 Mar 2004 00:24:53 GMT

So we're going to try a slightly different format now, it strikes me that barely anyone is reading this thing so I might as well put it in a way I find entertaining.

I'm updating this then I'm going for an early night, and yes I will listen to Emo to put me to sleep, deal with it. See I'm now learning to just accept that I am in fact a stereotypical Emo Kid, that test wasn't an eye opener or anything sad like that... just... damn I'm tired, I can barely compose sentences.

Today was dull... you know what? Fuck it I'm off to bed... I'll update this properly tommorow when I can think straight...

Mon, 22 Mar 2004 23:54:30 GMT

you are an "emo kid". you're fresh or
light in the scene and enjoy your somewhat
nicer and lighter emo bands. don't let the
indie kids and punk rockers put you down for
liking dashboard confessional or hot water
music, stick up for your emo rights! keep
smiling!

*how emo are you?*
brought to you by Quizilla

Oh it's so true... *Runs and hides in tears (Damned Irony)*

In this house of cards, we're all holding hearts...

Fri, 05 Mar 2004 01:43:02 GMT

Okay fair warning, I'm feeling pretty lucid and out of touch with reality right now, so for the love of god don't take anything I say at face value. My opinions are exactly that.

So my new t-shirts did arrive, and yes they were as nice as I hoped they'd be, I'm wearing one right now. I'm pretty happy about that actually, I was so sure I'd have to wait like a thousand years for them or they'd be bootleg or some bollocks like that. But outside of that mundane nonsense, nothing else is going right really.

I went to see 'ze band that were playing lunchtime at school today, I forget the name, but I really wish I'd remember it because I was actually pretty stoked by the end of the set (god how many west coast buzz words did I shove into that sentence?!). It was all the usual sixth form and year eleven 'everybody knows them, everybody wishes they were as cool as them etc etc' guys. It's kinda sad that we're yet to see a band pop up with a female lead singer but still one can dream..

So yeah they were pretty good. Only like two covers, and one was, believe it or not, 'What if god was one of us' didn't somebody or other Osbourne do that? Or am I just too tired to think straight? Everything else was there own work, and if their amps weren't too loud I might have been able to pick up on the lyrics too lol. A dedication to somebody or other thrown in, nice. Anyway.

I got into that late because basically nobody else wanted to go so I had to walk down by myself and sit in the back doing my loner thing. It's quite funny because two people came and sat right in front of me, despite the massive amount of empty seats available, then they would periodically turn around and sneer at me as if I was somehow in the wrong for picking this seat before them. It's amusing how people think they're so important that I even notice them when they treat me like human refuse, little piece of information here everyone. The reason I act like I don't give a damn when you insult or attack me? Is because I really don't.

Meh whatever.

They were plagued by technical problems ('Is the it even plugged into the amp? God maybe it's the guitar?! AHhhhH!!'), but still good stuff.

Moving on. I thought about doing some writing today, but I'm pretty dried up creatively, I've started a number of different things, even *Shudder* poetry, but nothing ever gets finished. haha I was just looking through some half written stuff and this popped up:

-------------------------------------------------------

The steady stream of black suited mourners from the church seemed endless. A thousand tear stained faces walking dolefully and purposefully towards the burial plot. Here and there someone leaning on their significant other for support, here and there someone completely surrendering to their grief as their weeping turned into a low scream. A few people had chosen to wear sunglasses, as though they could make their woe any less obvious.

Dillon would wear sunglasses, he thought to himself, but not because he didn’t want people to see him crying, just because it would look cool. In the movies the strong action hero always wore shades, standing with his arms crossed in front of him, never saying a word. Just as the coffin would be lowered, the camera would zoom in to see a single tear roll down his cheek. Then he’d throw a single rose onto the coffin and leave, usually to deal with the people who killed the guy or gal in the coffin, usually in a fashion far more brutal than the original murder itself. In movies, morality was much less black and white.

That was the world that Dillon lived in, the silver screen reality, where you really could dodge bullets and you never died. He could run up a wall if he really wanted to, it’s just up until now, he had never wanted to. That was the funny thing, while much that occurred in the movies he saw on tv and in the tiny stuffy cinema that Scrimpton had given up a better health service to have built, was very cool – unless you really worked at it? It wasn’t very useful.

Sure you could fire fifty bullets a second and reload in mid-air, but did that really solve the sort of problems that really nagged the back of his head? Like Algebra and Alison Partridge who sat next to him, but never paid him any attention? Not really.

The school councillor had told him that Dillon was perfectly natural, that many boys of his age had imaginary friends, and just as long as it didn’t get out of hand then he shouldn’t worry. But if Dillon told him to do bad things then he should tell someone immediately. He had found that last part amusing, it was ludicrous to assume Dillon might ever tell him to do bad things, Dillon was the hero for christ’s sake. Dillon defined what a bad thing was then he went out and stopped it.

-------------------------------------------------------

In case you did pick up on that Dillon is the narrators imaginary friend modeled after characters from old action movies, like Rambo and Lethal Weapon. I'm sure I had plot or something but that's like a month old, anything I leave for more than a week I forget all about. It probably involved a killing spree somewhere down the line... I always plan to have them in my stories but never get to writing them. I just think it'd be a fun challenge to write my own little Columbine or something (hey I wonder if the FBI key word tracker picks up on live journals as well? If so expect this to be pulled from the webwaves very soon).

Oh by the way the above extract from the story is of course subject to all the same intellectual copyright I hold over all my work. So basically if it pops up in some loser's fan fiction or something I will in fact do awful yet totally untraceable computer related things to said loser. I'm a nice guy really I am, I just don't handle creative theft very well.

I was laughing at people's obvious fear of death today. First of all, if you don't have faith in some kind of religion, which personally I do, so I'm happy - but if you don't, why are you afraid of death? You don't have to worry about your sins being judged or something, you've just got 'nothing' waiting for you. Now wait, don't start quivering from the waves of fear passing over you just yet, this isn't nothingness like endless blackness stretching on forever. This is just _nothing_. And absence of any awareness of anything, in a sense none of this ever happened, quit worrying, you'll never have to worry about feeding the cat again. Muahaha.

Let's be honest, after all the weirdness in our everyday lives, belief in nothing isn't particularly well grounded. I look around at life and I see no evidence of nothingess even being possible. And if I'm wrong, nobody gets to gloat!

Anywhooo, onto a less disturbing topic.

My iTunes library now holds 361 songs. That's a crazy amount of choice, and that's not even including the albums I'm yet to bring across, which is another thirty tracks at least. I've got a lot of new stuff on recommendation from others, some of it I'm loving and some of it I'm... less keen on. It's all very well and good but come this late and night when I wanna curl up with a good tune, I still come back to old safe ones like Get Up Kids or Saves the Days. There's something about 'Fall From Grace' that makes me feel so good, despite it's uber-depressing subject matter.

I was having an argument about Emo with Preston again. He's still hung up on his 70's rock, and I still claim nothing that can be described using the word 'seminal' can be good. Except seminal punk rock. People think Emo is all about Dashboard Confessionals and crap like that, even though Emo has it's roots in Punk not... acoustic loser chords or whatever you'd use to describe Dashboard.

Meh anyway I stopped making sense about three paragraphs ago, so I'm going to try to force some sleep now.

Night all,
Sol

Battle Fish!

Thu, 04 Mar 2004 21:50:50 GMT

DogsBody

Oscar

Agility
9

Strength
10

Stamina
4

Battle Rating
23

Origins
DogsBody was purchased at a local Pet Store

really strange dreams are made of these...

Sun, 29 Feb 2004 12:51:13 GMT

Okay so I just woke up like two hours ago and have been kinda spaced out after this most bizzare dream I had, so I thought I'd transcribe it here so you can see my brain working...

There was some stuff before the bit I'm writing down but most of it I can't remember and other bits I choose not to remember.

So okay we're in a big hall, sort of aztec design, you know all those tanned masonry and statues (the sort of stuff from Lara Croft haha). Central to this is a large swimming pool type thing, but old and crumbly like everything else, it's still full of water though. On either side of this pool are much smaller rectangular pools. Along the far edge of each smaller pool, facing inwards, are a row of stone seats.

I'm seated on one seat on one side, next to me is I think Gareth and there's three other people sitting with us but I don't recognise them.

On the other pool seats, across from us, and of course looking straight at us, is in this order: Paddy, James, Christian and for some reason Tara (making an unexplained cameo).

Oddly enough we're all dressed in full day to day clothes despite the abundance of water around us (but thank god because I have no wish to see James or Paddy in anything other than full clothing, hell seeing them in t-shirts is bad enough).

Then what happens is most confusing, everyone is talking, but nobody is talking to me. Yet everyone is talking about me. I mean what the hell? I get that in everyday life, now I have to dream about it?

Then people are all talking to me, and not to each other, but of course I know what they're going to say because they've already said it to each other. I try to tell them that I know what they're trying to say, but they won't listen.

That kind of freaked me out.

But what's funny is now that I think about it, Chuck Palahniuk's bit in Fight Club, about everyone waiting for their turn to speak, springs to mind.

Meh whatever, I'd like to extend a welcome to Christian making his first cameo in my dreams, ninth person I know from school, number nine with a bullet.

That's it for now.

Peace,
Sol

Nevermind the bollocks... it's a journal entry

Sun, 29 Feb 2004 02:28:47 GMT

All in all - in the past - things worked out.

Heh, sorry that was just something Keith said a few days back that stuck in my head and popped up just then for no reason... like cats covered in jam... *blinks* Erm yes, so anyway the week just gone (#That was the week that was! That was the week that was! It's gone! Let it go!#) was, all things considered, okay but dull.

The first bad thing about it I can think of was that someone pelted me in the head with a orange. Don't let those 'all in good fun' fruit weilding bastards lie to you, those things hurt. It kind of exploded all in my hair (It's super long by the way - in case you don't know me personally)and I got that not so fresh feeling all of a sudden.

OH! OH! OH! Yes that reminds me I ALMOST went to see the Distillers (mmmm Brody Dalle - she makes me feel kinda funny, like when they made us climb the rope in gym class) live in Brixton a week or so ago, but didn't... long story short I obviously wasn't their first or even second choice to take so that's fine by me. It only slightly upset me to discover that Pretty Girls Make Graves opened for them that night... so I would have been in heaven... meh nevermind.

Is it me or is my social life sort of gone? In fact, did I ever have a social life? Did I always live like I do now, sitting at home, listening to my Thursday records and getting mellowed out? I hope not.

I guess I just can't work up the enthusiasm to be a social creature anymore, it's not that I don't like the people I know, on the contrary I think they're hoopy froods to a man (and a woman as well)... it's just I can never be bothered, it's just so much easier to listen to music and be glum... this is an advertisement, if you have my enthusiasm, then please return it! It's not a big thing, it could probably get lost in one of your cd cases or something, check under your bed, or in your cupboards, find it and return it to me!

Another point, is it wrong that some music makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.. umm not the actual hair from my head, there's too much of that to stand up but like those little hairs? It's not even the lyrically great stuff or amazing solos that does it, just small things, like in "Haligh Haligh a lie Haligh" by Bright Eyes (yes I listen to them, I make no apologies)? Where he goes "you'd always be there, well where are you now?!" that just... wow *Shudder*.

I guess I'm just a bit sad really... haha that stank of teenage angst.

Oh good point, I'm ordering some t-shirts because my t-shirt collection is becoming noticeably old (Ooh! Sex Pistols are on Kerrang! Volume up now! Only 40 minutes till we roll over from 'K! Banned' to 'Life Is Loud!'), the t-shirt I'm wearing now is easily a year maybe two old. So I'm getting a Distillers and an AFI t-shirt.

The fact that that's the highlight of my week (aside from seeing someone smile... if you know me well enough you know who that person is, if not then you're not cleared to know obviously) is quite worrying. What came runner up for the highlight? Buying the Kerrang! Punk Rock Poster Special... man I need to get out more.

So what do we have planned for next week then... well... noting basically. There was some talk of going to Bournemouth or something, but I dunno where that stands right now. So that's all I have to say for now, I'll keep updating whenever I think of new crap to say.

Now it's time for my final thought (JERRY! JERRY!) -

"When families fall out there's no winners, only losers... so with that in mind I say to you: forget my name, forget my face and forget my name, because it's going to rain down... and it never ends!!!!"

So say the Jerry Spring/Thursday hybrid!

Erm yeah something like that.

Byeeeee,
Sol

A Test Of Your Sanity (And My New Journal Thingy)

Sun, 29 Feb 2004 01:52:54 GMT

Yup, I'm just testing this thing out before I post something real... yeeeeep.... okay Bye.