Random Wibblings

I love this total random act of bizarreness.

Are constantly at loggerheads.

Above my PC I have not one but 2 ideas for novels entirely mapped out in post it notes, scribblings, spider diagrams, the lot. In planning form, I've written two ACE novels. When it comes to writing the real thing however, the ol' attention span deficiency kicks in. It's like my brain says "Well I've thought of the idea, is that not enough?" and kinda gives up on me.

I've realised this alot through life. I'll throw myself into something 200%, care passionately about it, read up on it, learn things inside out, then when I reach a certain point, instantly give up and disregard it. I used to have a website a few years ago, doing flash animations, one being a really cheesy 'rap' about Chavs wearing Burberry. I set about making this website and learning how to use Flash because I thought "Some of the crap I see on telly started out life on the interwebs, I want a piece of this pie, cos if they've got that on TV, ANYONE can get it on TV." And lo and behold, I managed to get a few pieces on TV and the songs were used on radio (I actually went head to head with the BBC over Colin Murray using my 'Oliver The Humanzee' song that I made, repeatedly on his show and not acknowledging where he got it from or contacting me for permission first, I won and eventually got paid). Sky One, E4, Channel 4, I was even interviewed by someone from the New York Times about one of my animations about muppets who play their ringtones in public places, he mentioned it in his book about how people fight back against the little annoyances in life. And then once I'd achieved what I initially set out to do, I just gave up. Stopped. Kaput. I was getting emails every day telling me to make more, I was getting offers of freelance work, and I just gave up. The site died about a year later. And now I'm at the same point with writing. And I don't want to be, because I really like writing.

I blame blogs, I blame YouTube, I blame Facebook, I blame Wikipedia, I blame the internet as a whole. It sucks me in and I waste my time looking up stuff just for the sake of it. I'll be mid-sentence in a Word doc and then all of a sudden my brain will say "PIGEONS, you don't know enough about pigeons! Get looking them up!" 20 seconds later I'm looking at the pigeon varieties in the British Isles. I re-focus and get back to it. A paragraph or two later and lo, the voice chimes in again "PIRATES! What qualifications do you need to be a pirate? How do you start being a pirate? Is a boat necessary or can you be a land based pirate? Would being a land based pirate mean I have to restructure the pirate insult of 'Landlubber' to be derogatory towards sea-based people, 'Sealubber'? That sounds like Seal Clubber, hey LET'S ADOPT A SEAL!" It just spirals out of control!

Does anyone else suffer from this? Or am I just going slowly but surely mad and the novel writing is the carrot on a stick that I will never reach? How do I apply myself more to the cause at hand? I've tried severing my ties with the internet, I really have, but it's like a wicked wicked mistress. I'll disconnect my laptop from the wireless connection, 10 minutes later I'll be sweating and thinking "I wonder what's Kev's status is today? It said he hated Sealubbers yesterday...."

Liverpool play their first home game of the season today against Middlesborough so I'm off to cheer the Red Men on. Only got to a handful of games last season but did manage to see every single game via the lovely software available on the web that allows me to watch Asian TV who show every single game.

And I see the Bigfoot hoaxers are now in for a rough ride after admitting it was all a fake. One of them has been fired from the Police force (GOOD) and the pair of them are now being sued by various parties. As soon as the press conference was called they should of just admitted it got out of hand. There's taking a joke too far and there's taking a joke too far. I'm glad it was a hoax. I like the mystery and folklore surrounding myths and legends like this. I always love reading about new 'Nessie' sightings or watching UFO footage on the net. It can be both easy and hard to explain them away, but as long as that element of doubt is there, it's a nice little thing to have in the world. I'm not saying I believe or don't believe, I just enjoy the mystery.

Here's the two dumb rednecks explaining themselves:

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/US/08/21/bigfoot.hoax/?imw=Y&iref=mpstoryemail#cnnSTCText

Ah well, it beats the myth of a 'Giant Rat' that has been spotted round my town. Yay, Super Vermin!

Roadkill ones don't count mind

It's like the 'ever seen a baby pigeon?' question. We know they exist but whose ever seen one?

I walk through the park every morning and I'm surrounded by squirrels jumping about and climbing trees, there's tonnes of 'em, however despite the masses, I have yet to chance upon one toe up in the grass dead as a doornail.

Where do squirrels go to die?

Perhaps maybe....they don't die!?!?!? Squirrels could be the fountain of youth!

I'm thinking an experiment in squirrel blood drinking is in order!

So I had this dream last night that I had somehow thought it be a good idea to sign up for the US Marines (seems ol' Blighty's army wasn't good enough for me) however upon arrival at what seemed to be a tower block in somewhere like Rio or Buenos Aires where I was to stay whilst I did my training (?) I decided it wasn't for me. I was sharing a room with someone who I really didn't like, a Buck or Chuck who talked with a southern drawl and I was the only new guy in the building so was subjected to much abuse.

Anyhoo, I thought 'sod this' wrote off a letter of resignation and refused to turn up for my first day on the job. In effect I'd gone AWOL. When all I really did was get drunk in my room (which took on the appearance of a rather nice hotel room). Feeling adventurous I went for a walk.

I was then chased through the streets of wherever I was by a female army general driving a coach, sent out to pick up all the waif and stray people who were trying to leave the army but were simply getting rounded back up and put back to work. I managed to make it down an alley, but somehow so did the coach. However, she had to stop the coach and help a western tourist who was totally out of it, with a hand made sign tied with string round his neck giving big bold directions to where he was staying in the city.

I kind of escaped, but wound up back at my room where Buck/Chuck was getting drunk. He said everyone went AWOL at some point during their day and to just chill out.

At that point, I woke up.

What the deuce?

And the women who annoy me at the train station were out in force with their oversized umberellas blocking my path as they trudged slowly off the train, then even more slowly up the stairs, causing me to duck and dive to avoid getting lanced in the eyeballs by the tips of their brollies. Then it was slowly over the bridge which is conveniently 3 people wide, and lo! there's three of them.

I physically hissed as I walked past and shook my head. Me, hissed. Me, shaking my head! What's become of me? I remember back in the day I'd of youthfully hot footed past, back when I was lean and athletic. Why aren't I lean and athletic anymore? Why do I hiss and shake my head like a DISGRUNTLED person? Is this what it feels like to be disgruntled? If so, I don't like it, not one bit!

I stood in a puddle too, I bent down to brush off the excess rainwater (why the hell am I so concerned? I'd of developed trench foot rather than stooped to clean my footwear way back when). As I return to my fully erect position, I make a sigh that I have heard my Dad do many a time, and always vowed to never make such a sigh. A sigh that is for no apparent reason other than bending down was a chore. A chore!

My God..............I'm getting old!

I commute to and from work. I fare dodge most days. Now before the cries of 'Criminal' fill the air, I want to fight my case.

First and foremost, I hate trains. Especially the trains I get. They seem to attract the worst passengers, myself being no exception as I listen to music loudly to drown out the babble of the train and make the journey less arduous.

I keep myself to myself and read a book most days, particularly if I can get a seat, but the journey home usually involves me having to stand as it's a 5pm train out of a major city so it's always pretty busy with workers and shoppers alike.

This is where things go a bit awry for me. I am big on not invading peoples personal space, and them doing the same for me. However on a train as crammed as a Tokyo tube, it can be a little hard. This is where common sense should prevail.

Common sense =

Not bringing on your STUPID bike that you can't be bothered riding to work, or you ride as far as the train station and think you've 'done your bit' for the day. It still amazes me the looks of astonishment on cyclists faces when they realise they may not be able to get their stupid mountain bike on the train due to actual real people getting on. So, until they start charging cyclists to bring their bike onto a train, I refuse to pay.

Prams. They get bigger each year. No wonder children are suffering from obesity in this country, it's possibly because parents are thinking their child looks a little too tiny for the SPACESHIP of a pram they've got, so stuff poor bambino with food to make 'em 'fill it out'. And where's the love these days? Cooing at your child screaming in a pram, clearly in distress at being on a noisy train isn't as good as scooping them up and holding them, and as a result COLLAPSING YOUR CHALLENGER I SPACEBUGGY and storing it away so that other people can board and get off the train without having to wall hug past you. Alot of them have a lazy attitude of 'I'm a parent, we don't have to move, we're MEANT to be a nuisance'. WRONG. You don't do it on a plane do you? There aren't a million prams clogging up the aisle there is there? Why? Because it's a hazard. Same as it is on a train, where you have to prepare to disembark BEFORE it's stopped moving. Why? Because you are making the trek from my seat or standing position to the door, an obstacle course that I have to complete before reaching my goal of the 'Open Doors' button. So until all parents collapse their prams before getting on a train, I refuse to pay.

Chavs - They don't pay, they wreck the train, they hog more seats than is necessary by sitting with their legs wide open or with their feet up on the train opposite. Until chavs pay or are banned from trains or restrained on a train, I refuse to pay.

Then there's where to look. A paranoid person like me needs visual stimulous if I can't read my book because I'm stood sardine-like on the train. I don't want to be accused of things. When I drift off thinking about something I find myself snapping quickly back into reality when I realise I'm staring at someone who looks a little uncomfortable by my glazed expression. So you look around, trying to find somewhere to fix your eyes so you aren't offending.
A jolly black woman - oh no, better not, she might think I don't like black people taking up seats on trains.
A middle eastern man reading a book - no better not, he might think I think he's reading 'How To Detonate A Train Bomb' and thus think he's a terrorist.
Children playing - ah the innocence of youth - wait, no better not, I may get mistaken for a paedophile.
A sign saying I'll be fined if I pull the emergency stop chord. No better not, I may upset people round me thinking I'm bonkers and daft enough to risk a fine to watch everyone go hurtling forwards as I yank the chord manically laughing and shouting "LAAAAAAAAAAAAAST STOOOOOOP!"
A gang of teenagers - nope, I may get beaten up.

So until TVs are installed on trains for me to watch on the way home, I REFUSE TO PAY.

I'm a placid kind of guy most of the time.

I promise.

Could be a dodgy movie with Samuel L Jackson with a title like that. Anyhoo, how ace was it when a dog walked onto the playground at school when you was a kid?

Dinner ladies would move in like a SWAT team and scream at you to leave it alone as you didn't know where it had been. Who cared about where it had been, it was here now on my playground! It must want to play, such is the nature of a playground!

But oh no, the law of lunchtime would scuttle over and shoo it off the playground.

Kids see dogs everyday, but the sudden rush of adrenalin you got when you saw one on the playground was immense. "WOAH A DOG!" It was like someone breaking INTO prison to see their mates. It was here to share our pain of the realisation that it was an afternoon of maths after lunch.

The poor dog though. What must of been going through his mind "LOOK I JUST WANT A TREE TO PISS AGAINST AND A BISCUIT, LEAVE ME ALONE! I LIKE BEING PETTED, JUST NOT BY 200 PEOPLE AT ONE TIME! YOU ARE FREAKING ME OUT!" He wandered through in a complete daze, not being able to comprehend the mass affection off an army of kids, interlaced with hatred and venom from the dinner ladies. It's like how a footballer or rock star must feel. Adored by many, but he knows that out there, amongst the faces looking back at him, there's a few he's shagged and not called back. Not that I was ever sexually molested by a dog at school, but you get the idea.

I hope.

Tis true tis true,
Bigfoot ate my shoe.
He did a poo
In the grassy dew.
Now what am I to do?

He sometimes calls me on the phone,
And tells me tales of the hills he roams,
We're good friends now, and that we'll stay.
I don't need fame much anyway.

This is how bored I am, writing nonsense about Bifoot at 00:20 on a Sunday night, all because I read THIS article.

http://www.timesoftheinternet.com/1131.html

It's always rednecks. Bigfoot, lake monsters, UFOs, it's always the damn huckleberrys claiming they've seen 'em.