I wrote a complaint to the BBC about their having Johnny Vegas on Jonathan Ross, and about the licky, gloss-over way Ross dealt with recent allegations that Vegas sexually assaulted a woman on stage. I told them that I object to seeing him applauded, and in fact object to seeing him at all, to paying him any sort of fee if there is such a serious unanswered question about his conduct. Had I been in the audience, I would have walked out, and not quietly. The woman concerned is hardly likely to press a complaint. It's much less difficult to deal with having been amusingly groped on stage than it is to admit to having been sexually assaulted and to having been so powerless that you took it, literally, lying down. My guess is, that's exactly how he gets away with this crap.

Anyway they've answered. Apparently it's under investigation.

How do you mourn for someone who isn't dead, but isn't there anymore?

Discuss.

---------

I can't sleep, yet again. At least I don't have to work tomorrow. That's nice. I need to remember to have some fun with my abundance of free time. I'm really trying not to stress too much, but that's easier said than done.

Blah.

I need a hug.

Gratulerer så mye med dagen, tuilui!

excellent.

corben woke up, crying a bit.

(very not-excellent)

but I was awake and heard him, so I could go to him and give him baby-neurofen and some milk and make him happy and sleepy again and buy Liz more sleep :)

I am not dysfunctional.

I'm differently functional.

:)

Last ciggy then bed. Honest.

God fucking DAMN but that feels good :D

fuckkkkkkkkkk.

FUCK ME, it feels good to fucking write a few fucking tracks and VENT.

FUCKkkkkkkk.

I feel fucking ALIVE again.

Enough good tracks to put the cap on To Rights.

Work out the bits that aren't quite right and fix them, spit and polish.

Sort this fucking album out, get DeathBoy back on the fucking road.

hahahahahhhahahahahahahaahaa :D

Felt like I'd lost my fucking connection for quite a while there. Contentment is the death of creation.

GET ANGRY. REMEMBER HOW FUCKING FURIOUS YOU ARE ABOUT THE WORLD.

Make some fucking music.

Fuck, yes.

I AM FUCKING ALIVE STILL.

To Rights Highlights:

Beautiful: really pleased with this. meaningful triphop.

boomp3.com

The End Begins Again: need to overproduce it to fuck, ace lyrics, good pace.

boomp3.com

Machinegun: rabid drum 'n hate aceness.

boomp3.com

So I Said You Died: best track I've written in the last two years.

boomp3.com

At My Best: rocking, hi-energy deathboy

boomp3.com

This Time Again: drop-tempo badness.

boomp3.com

Fix 'em up, fuck you all, rock the fucking house.

GOOD MORNING, WORLD

This Time Again - DeathBoy

boomp3.com

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

so here we go again
got more experience
no more excuses now
and no more bitterness

we said we'd be just friends
the cycle never ends
we terminated this
with due dilligence

I should feel better now
but still I don't somehow
the knife is twisting still
the cuts that make me ill

my head's a fucking mess
but this damn this loneliness
it makes me feel just like
when the world still held some interest

I am a nexus
I live to fall
I am gaping hole of violence
that lives inside us all

I am the DJ
and I am the drink
I am the thing that pushes
you over the brink

remember when you said
we were so innocent
remember when you hurt
and weren't so violent

and we shared everything
and life was beautiful
and I was happy then
until you fucked it all

I know I asked this
I know I don't deserve
a moment's happiness
to love without reserve

and I have learnt the lesson
and I am better now
I will behave, I will abstain
so you can breathe somehow

as if I will, yeah fuck
go try for better luck
I am the demon
will not stop until we all fall down

You kept them all away
but now they're here again
a million knives of insecurity
are my best friends

Photo Booth is pretty cool.



( Read more... )

The day after exercise is a bit sore, but the day after that is worse. That day was today, and I admit that I haven't got into or out of a chair all day without emitting the sort of grunt you normally only hear in old people's homes. My thighs. Oh dear, my thighs. Anyway, the logical thing to do, I concluded, was repeat the Monday workout S taught me. You know. Push through it &c, before everything stiffens up. And then go for a run. So I did - just a little 3K run on my Legs of OW - well, just over 3, actually, but I'm quite pleased with the evening's achievements.

However, I didn't want to run tonight. The last time I tried a run - very early Sunday morning, while it was still cool - I had a numberplate-related meltdown after 2K (fucking little silver cars with almost-the-right numberplates, each one making my heart stop), and at 2.5 I gave up, turned around and walked back home crying like a tw@. Thank god it was early and there really wasn't anyone around.

So ok. From now on, I only run in the dark, where I can't see the numberplates any more. That probably isn't very safe, but it works.

However, I've learned something useful this evening. I have a tendency to breathe wrong when I start running - I over-think it and breathe too much - it makes the bottoms of my lungs hurt, makes my legs leaden, and it's what screws up my first 2K. After 2K I fall into a rhythm and it works fine. But that first 2K is always tough.

However! Discovery du jour: if I sing while I run, the problem goes away.

This means that not only have I got over my "physical exertion in public" hangup. I'm accidentally getting over my "singing in public" hangup as a by-product.

As far as I can work out, those are the only two hangups about myself I've ever had, and I didn't think I'd ever get on top of either of them. So, gosh.

I have TWO fanmixers. TWO.

[insert your own dolphin noise here]

If you are a mixer for my story, a) lol sry 4 any crappiness, hopefully my betas will help me before June 1, and b) email me if you have questions/comments/critique/ideological conflicts/desires/worries. sinsense [at] yahoo [dot] com, baby.

TWO.

more cat pictures

Yet again I am an idiot and spend years of my life not listening to a band that everyone tells me I will love, because I try them a few times and they're not doing it for me.

This week: Pigface!

Listened to them in about 2001, couldn't suss out the big fuss!

Just listened to the (five years old now) "Easy Listening... (for difficult fuckheads)" - would you believe, fucking love it.

Oh well. On the good side, the habit of re-polling people you didn't like has paid off over the years. Win.

GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS!

I asked this question in several health/fitness groups and am getting a ton of responses but unfortunately, many of the replies are coming from twenty-somethings and younger and I honestly don't recognize 90% of the song selections. So, I posted in my personal journal and here.

What are some of your favorite motivational tunes, the ones that keep you going, that give you that needed burst of energy while you are working out? I like this one and this one and am looking for more along those lines that I might've forgotten. The lineup on the Jock Jams series of CDs was also suggested.

My kingdom for a good night's sleep! And another to make this headache (that I've had for 2 days) go away!

4 hours of shuteye is not enough.

Shoe lust. alltheleaves, this is your fault.

Actually, the pink ones of these would go with about five outfits of mine. Whereas the orange ones would entail me buying new outfits. Oh dear me. :)

***

Handing over sensitive data is a weird little procedure, conducted in a hushed and solemn atmosphere more reminiscent of some forms of civil ceremony than anything else. You know the sort of thing: being granted Freedom of the City or being sworn in as something. We go into a quiet room together. The recipient fills in an Official Form. I check it. He signs it. I sign it. Then, and only then, I hand over the information, he seals it in a special tamper-proof bag, and I walk him to the door.

Seriously, it's like one of the old Livery Company rituals, only without a giant silver mace/loving cup/sword.

Anyway, the forms are known universally as "Chain of Custody Forms". Or "CoCs". Which leads to some fantastically stilted conversations on the 'phone.

Me: "Hi, $name ... you forgot to attach that form to your last email."
Him: "Which form?"
Me: "The ... form we just signed together."
Him: "Oh! The c .. that ... form."
Me: "Yes. If you could just ..."
Him: "I'm right on it."

Me: *hangs up phone*

Me: "Lucky old you."

Me: *realises YET AGAIN that hanging up phone does not disconnect the call, on this set*

Oh FFS. Everyone's talking about it. Non-stop, ya ya ya.

Let's have it out.

Edit: SATC = Sex and the City. Obv.

Poll #1187617 inevitable
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

SATC:

SATC clingy:

SATC style:

SATC feminism:

SATC:

SATC - the movie: