Philip · J · Schadenfreude

You've selected "POSITIVE MODE"! Well done to you!

Don't know how it happened, but oddly upbeat about the coming days. Return to uni could be the key, but then leaving behind some people here. Ah well, parents too, so it could be worse.

Short, but hey.

Macerated and lacerated my finger today at work - so it doesn't move now when I want it to, but it does twitch occasionally. Hmm. Ah, sweet, dependable pain. Is there nothing else in this world?

Hmm, that's philosophy (or masochism, not sure).

And yet I feel as if I'm entering my closing chapters already. I'm finding myself far more difficult to control than I once did, but fortunately I don't have the energy to get properly angry. Ah, why does everything happen at once - I thought time was invented as a useful way of keeping events separate.

Feeling oddly insulted for no reason from quaters where an insult, however well intentioned, was not expected. I'm happy with things as they are - I know that change is useful - I'm dead against things not staying the same.

She's still in my thoughts, even if I keep promising I'll phone her and don't. Ah, feck, no sleep, no time, no nothing. I blame communism. And my inability to organise a whip-round at an S&M charity function.

Or something like that.

Have been a bit gloomy of late, but then again, so does everyone, once in a while - I just have more onces and whiles than everyone else! So, here is a list of things I am glad about (not all-inclusive):

My wonderful friends (all of them).
My 'ability' to write.
Good books.
Good music.

There, that's four things to be getting on with.

Smile!

It is! Honest. Try it - you'll be freids with the Queen in no time. Whilst we're on a royalist sensation, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that I was also one of Princess Diana's Lovers. Along with my Dog. And Cat. And Goldfish. I refrain from mentioning horse at this point, as there's no way it would fit (in my house - what the hell were you thinking)?

Anyway, interesting (ish) news to note at this stage in time: I have not slept since 6:00 am Friday Morning. And at this moment, don't feel particualrly tired. Maybe I'll fall in the mixing tank at work and drown - that'd improve things. Ah well, the only cure for insomnia (if this be it) is probably sleep.

Hectic is another word for what my life is. Too much writing, sorting, prodding and other stuff to mention. So I won't, but things are hectic and thoughts many. All generally not good. I sense a downward spiral being continued. Feck.

Until you trespass here again,
G'night.

But I'm still alright to smile.

Guns n' Roses, "Patience"

Damn good song, also, highly appropriate. Things aren't exactly going immensly well down here at the moment, through no fault of anybody except my own - things seem to be heading in an ever decreasing downward spiral (yet only in metaphorical terms).

Well, sod that.

I tried living for the future, and found no fun in today.
I tried living for the present, and found no future.
I'm now living in the past, gripping onto failed dreams.
And yet, there are no more tears to cry.

Just remember, it's nobody's fault, and nobody finalised anything - something will work, it has to?

Cat and Sean (the Sheep (see "Wallace and Gromit, A Close Shave") both tried to phone me at work today.

Whilst I am eternally grateful to both of them, I couldn't answer the phone. The reason for this is simple. They interfere with the forklift trucks' radar systems. This is true. A forklift needs a locational bearing device system fitted to be able to divine the exact position of the nearest pallet, IBC or humanoid in the vicinity. And then, seemingly, to drive right over it, as that's all the fools at my place of workship do.

Anyway, missing Cat terribly now, not so much with Sean (three guesses why), and texts are good, phone calls not so much. They aren't unappreciated, but I can't seem to make them myself, I'm too boring to sustain a conversation with. In my opinion.

Ag!

Well, I must be off, as I'm going to Canters tomorrow, and need to actually double the amount of sleep that I've had in recent days (eight hours would triple it).

Yawns, etc,

St.

If lafter is a medicine, it is probably a vaccine, a small, weaker part of something that is incredibly dangerous. By knowing about laughter and laughing, we can avert serious joy.

Or something like that.

Well, there's a depressing opening if ever I wrote one. Well, it could be worse.

Last night I managed to introduce the front portion of an automobile to a clay-based elevated divider. Or, to put it another way, smashed the car into a earthen verge. None too much damage to either vehicle or myself, but still, an insurance excess of £600 is nothing to be sniffed at when you're in my position (almost penniless). This, unfortunately, renders me almost completely penniless. Which is shit.

What this means is: returning to university is now no longer a definite option. That doesn't mean I won't be going, and it doesn't mean I will. I have no desire to get into debt up to my eyeballs (I'm quite tall, so that's a lot of debt) and so may be forced to take a year out to work to afford it. Benefits: More money to return with, free time to achieve life goals.
Disadvantages: Return as a practical fresher, finish a year after everyone else.

So, uni it will be. Somehow.

On a lighter note, have a cigarette.

Further still, I'll manage, I have done in the past, and hey, I'm still here. I'm off to Canters this weekend (now by train, for some reason *cough*) to see some friends I haven't seen for ages. Hopefully the weekend after that the car will be out of "car hospital" and I'll be able to see Kashia. And Cat. Hopefully. Please?

Finally, a line that has been repeating many times through my head since 10:30 yesterday:

"If you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two imposters just the same." (If - Kipling)

Need a hug.

I notice that I promised that I wouldn't bother with anything but poetry on this "blog", but have only one poem to date. This isn't good news. I feel like I've lied almost as much as when Freddy McLiar gabve his name as George McLiar on the "World's Best Liar Competition" entry form. Gah.

I think I'm put off by the reformatting that this "blog" does automatically. Ho-hum, I'll find a way of not bothering about it later. Meanwhile, I'll eat some ham sandwiches.

Cat is at a gig, I hope she has a better time than I. My evening's a bit shite, to tell the truth. So she probably will.

Sweet mothers of gods! If Cat and I didn't have a crazy idea last weekend, that of trying to start a publishing company. I hope this wasn't just something she said on a whim, as I think it's a reasonable idea, and hells, even if it doesn't work, we'll get expoerience points on our own Pokemon life cards (an odd metaphor, but it'll suit (Hands down, LAWs)).

Looking forward to seeing her again. I would be counting the days, but that would be too significant a gesture to make at this juncture (or would it...?)

Quite honestly, missing her loads - seeing close friends after a while makes you realise how close you actually were/are. Hopefully the latter.

Anyway, to summarise: Publishing is a GOOD idea. Cat is too far away (or am I too far away? Hmmm). LAWs are fools.

'Nuff said.

Hey to all, both LAWs and humans!

In Cambridge as I type, ain't it good! Well, it probably is. With the added bonus that the adorable (if slightly knackered/drunk/both) Cat is here too. She says she isn't drunk, but would you trust someone who doesn't know the difference between a Spaniard and an Italian? She says that's harsh, I agree, but it's also fair. Meh.

Note to self: BLarrgh!

It's a note to me, it doesn't have to mean anything to you.

PING!

Well, off to Cambridge. Didn't not reply to Cat's emails, just didn't go online and surf my funky stuff. Whoops! Three emails from Cat! Is that concern, or just plain old-fashioned anger? The latter, probably. I blame myself. Gah.

Surf's up, by the way, dudes. (Down with the "kidz", as ever.)

Well, that's mainly boring stuff for you (not for me, can't wait), so here's an interesting piece of information: THE MOON IS COVERED IN PICNIC TABLES!

Well, it isn't true, but it held your interst for a nanosecond. Twenty minutes if you're a LAW.

Reading "Down and Out in Paris and London" by the 'oh so fantastic' George Orwell. Oh, yeah, he's not only a mater, but he's made my job seem a whole lot better!

Well, until next time you visit here to grease your lexical monkey, I shall withdraw across the Styx.

Schadenfreude.

This entry is numbered as Pi for one simple reason, I've realised that this "blog" or "log" or whatever the hell this is has the potential to go on for ever and ever with no logical intent or purpose. Whoop-de-fecking-doo!

Anyhow, got my first comment, which I am, of course pleased about, from the purr-fect (see what I did there?) Cat (daydream87, if memory serves). So thanks for that, m'dear.

Right, where was I? Same place as always, my little rock of cynicism in a great heaving ocean of blood. Niiiice.

Well, as if you weren't bored enough already, I've been told that I have a job until the end of July for definite, possibly August too, which means I can afford next year at uni. Wahey! Just what I always wanted.

My mobile telephonic apparatus (mob, to all you crazy cool dudes out there) was maliciously run over by a forklift truck the other day. Fortunately, it's built like a LAW's skull, so it survived, although it has been slightly grumpy recently.

WHAT IS A LAW?

A LAW is a "Licker of the Arse of Wordsworth", which basically is a term for someone who only appreciates pretension and self-importance, and as a result is constantly being a total smartarse over tiny things like grammar and spellnig because they think it will make them look clever, and not like some pathetic, phone book reading, sweater wearing moron. Think Arnold Rimmer (from Red Dwarf), but even more pathetic and dislikable. Just to clarify, I don't dislike Wordsworth's stuff totally, but his attitude and those who share hist toadying, the frog like bastards.

Rant over. For now.

134 - Unread messages in email inbox. Not a single one form Cat or Kasia. Or Roo. Or Lizzi. I would sulk, but then again, I haven't sent them much, and they are all lovely people. Not just people, LAWs, but FRIENDS! What a concept!

Well, that's all I can be bothered to put, and it's probably far more than you'll bother to read. See you next year.

Schadenfreude

I'm sure I'll forget something, so there may be another hello at some point. Maybe not. Hello. Do you deserve another hello anyway? Probably not.

Why is everyone so into this "blogging" business anyway. It's only one letter more than "logging" and we all know what that's a metaphor for. Yeah, we do. If you don't, ask your mum - she'll be really pleased with you, honest.

Well, my name is Philip J Scadenfreude. Want to know what the J stands for? Tough. See, I can be evil like that. My, this "blogging" is so much fun and merry larks. I may throw up in a minute, purely because I'm bored. Which sounds like "board", which is an anagram of "broad" and therefore leads me to my next topic: broadband.

I don't have it. Not at the moment, at least. So at this precise second (well, this precise second for me, not for you, as you won't be reading this instantly, if at all) I'm losing hard earned cash on pay-per-minute dial up. They should pay me for putting up with using it. Grr, etc.

Well, poems are the things I may be chucking at this thing (if I don't instantly forget it's there (almost like making love to one of the ex-girlfriends (ooh, bitch!))), and so here's one to titillate your brain (or whatever organs you feel need titillating, it ain't up to me how you plebians get your kicks).

Typing on mine internet
Pouring soul into a "blog"
I noticed (with the mint I eat)
That it sounded quite like "log"

I laughed quite hard at this connection
And then felt quite a fool
And then the internet lost my affection
And I placed coins in a pool.

The stuff I actually put effort into is inifinitely better than stuff I cobble together instantly in thirty seconds (that was a thirty second jobby, all you lickers of the arse of Wordsworth (or LAWs).

Finally:

"I'm very cynical as you know." If you know where that quote is from, have this free life voucher. To redeem it, simply go outside and talk to someone real.

Sarge out. (yea, I have a nickname, how "retro cool" am I?" (rhetorical question, LAWs)).