Day 29: Now We're Talking...

Boy, I got so much to say and so little time.

Let's kick off with a little bit of night music, shall we. No, there's no Mozart below - it's music by a Brit, no less: Mr Elgar. And there's also one Jaqueline Dupre letting her genius shine on through.

Now I'm more into Beethoven meself, but I'm just doing Him a favour by putting this here! He wants to put a marker down, see, as 2009 approaches. And I'm all for doing it doggie-style - territorially speaking, of course.

Anyway, I'll shut up. Listen. Enjoy. Read on...



Can anything be stranger than fiction?

Well, just ask Harold Crick, I suppose, or read more than 5 posts of this blog.

That Harold Crick's a morbid one, though. I mean what sort of line is this to run by your one and only friend in the world?...

"If you knew you were gonna die, possibly soon, what would you do?"

Still, it's a line that will be making a comeback in a second novel coming soon.

And the name of that novel?

You Only Die Twice

(By the way, not one single word has been written so far. Ah, that's a lie! The first line has been written. Yep, it's one of those books inspired by a single sentence. Again! I just thank the lucky stars I have nothing to do with it. Well at least I hope I don't!)


Even James Bond...

...suffers from the odd bout of angst, it seems. (With a face like that - as if he's got a moutful of wasps in his gob - ol' Daniel C. does well to keep it just the odd bout, if you ask me!) Still, as my lines start to run out, I guess I should take a quantum of solace from that fact. Guess so. Yes, even JB has to think about more than King and Country sometimes.

As for BJ...

Well, it'll soon be Christmas!

Day 24: 5 Years...

Apparently it's been more or less 5 years since He met She.

Ah, a pair matched in heaven. Or some place beginning with H, anyway.

So, to celebrate this anniversary I thought I'd let David Bowie (and his alter ego Ziggy) do their thing in a little ditty called - surprise, surprise! - 5 Years.

Take it away Mr Stardust...



PS Weren't his teeth so much better back then?

Day20: Bad Poetry

An old poem from Him

Bad Poetry

Is it deliberate,
or
can I just not write
good poetry?

Is it deliberate
or
is this the only way
for me to purge
the poison-pink away?

Does it need to rhyme?
(Does she need to harm?)
Is pain, hurt, anger and hate
the only way to create?

No!

I'm smiling, as I write
Pink is not poison,
I know
This is just a lesson
to my ego. Listen!

So thank you,
"you're so vain",
for raising my value
and
for letting me
write
bad poetry

Thank you

--

And a new (rough draft, but I can't be arsed to make it better) poem from me

In The Corner

I was in the corner
of that Bristol hotel
when he first unwrapped you

I was in the corner
as you kissed
(and then hissed!)

I was in the corner

I was in the corner
Oxford's Travelodge too
Twenty-one grams trouble

I was in the corner
for your sweet-
meat revenge

I was in the corner

I was in the corner
that Thursday in Fulham -
reception-desk pink-slip

I was in the corner
you tricked your
April Fool

I was in the corner

I...

 was in...

          the corner

--

I'll leave it up to the viewers to decide which poem be best.

Day 8: The Bubbly Gum Years

Once upon a time, when The Writer Of This Blog looked a lot like the little boy you see on the left, a brief career in shop-lifting started when a single bubble gum (see below) was not-so-secretly sneaked into a little boy's pocket whilst he was in his local shop.

The eagle-eyed storekeeper of The Little Shop (for that was the shop's name) - an upstanding figure of the community, no doubt, and probably a man called Barry - noticed this misdemeanour, and simpy asked the lad to return the Bubbly and to then go home and tell his Mum just what he'd done.

Thankfully said little boy had not previously listened to Ian Dury's "Razzle in my Pocket" and so he decided that if he couldn't even lift a bloody bubbly gum then he might as well stick to the straight and narrow! So he trundled back home and confessed all...



Note: this is not the same Bubbly - just in case you were thinking!

Day 3: Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I know I said I was going to stop talking about the reader-writer relationship, and talk about 'real' stuff and such, but I just can't seem to help it - it's in my blood right now.

I know that, once upon a time the blog use to be about important stuff like The Simpsons (and feeling smug about them). And then, when I took over the show, the blog'd be about how easy it is to be a man and such (bloody stupid Rudyard Kipling and his impossible rhymes!), but now it's all about me and you, the dear reader.

How post-modern!

How la la la!

(Tch!)

Trouble is, right now, this blog has just the one dear reader - a blonde who has seen better days (just like the rest of us, eh!).

So let me reprise a little something that was written for our precious dear reader aka the Terence Stamp One, a while ago. I call it Mango.

(Ahem! Le me clear me throat!...)

Mango
by Boring John

Mango "Me?"
Nah, it couldn't be!
I'm just a character, see!
She must mean He
- that Mishka P -
She must mean He!

--

And good look to 'er, is all I'll say!

He still can't help Himself when it comes to antagonising and such, and now He's come over all happy and dippy too. This is NOT how to show a girl a good time! Hee hee.

"And that's how two characters should dance together in life"

And that's how two characters should dance together in life?

Yes, and it's all explained here in this (almost finished*) version of The World According to Boring John (PDF version) - you'll need a password!**

Enjoy! I know I didn't.

* This book may never get finished - He may not be up to it!
** And the password is... - contact me (or Him) for it!

Here's a rhetorical question, for ya...

What happens if there are no rhetorical questions?

Aye. I know what you're thinking. Oh-my-God-Not-Another-Christmas-Cracker-Thought-For-The-Minute kinda thing. Okay, skip it, I hear ya! Here's a better rhetorical question:

Is having a relationship - y'know an 'intimate relationship of the sexual kind' type of relationship - worth having to deal with the game-players, the fearful and the commitment-phobes, the plain mixed-up types and all the other ensemble of losers who get in the way of a simple, yet fulfilling, good time?

Well, I ain't being rhetorical here, because the answer is NO!

So will all the losers who find their way to this particular hidey hole, please leave immediately - taking your bad vibe with you - so that the rest of us can just plain enjoy our lives.

Thank you. Kindly.

ENOUGH!...

of all that bollox, Joe Strummer's got something to say.

Take it away, Joe...

"People can do anything."

Thanks, Joe. I think the people needed to hear that. And no, I'm not hearing voices from the grave (again) - it's just something Joe said in an excellent DVD documentary called The Future is Unwritten.

It certainly is, Joe. It certainly is.

"How do you like them apples?"

Apologies, dear reader, for the lack of blog entries. But, hey, I can't be in two places at once now can I, and me and Him are still working hard on the book. (The book? Yeah, the one imaginatively titled The World According to Boring John.)

Anyways, as part of my research for today - my material really was poor, and I needed to pad it out a little - I came across some quotes from that top film, Good Will Hunting. So, I thought I'd share.

And if you want me to explain what's being said here, especially in bold, well you can, er, suck my mother-hubbard stick! (Sorry, the testosternone levels are high - book pressures, etc. It's gotta be finished by the end of the year, and we're only half way through the latest rewrite. I meant to say that I just don't have the time to explain - work it out for yourself. ;-) )

Okay, peeps, here come the quotes...

Skylar: What is your obsession with this money? My father died when I was 13 and I inherited this money. You don't think that every day I wake up and wish I could give it back? That I would give it back in a second if I could have one more day with him? But I can't, and that's my life and I deal with it. So don't put your shit on me when you're the one that's afraid.

Will: I'm afraid? What am I afraid of? What the fuck am I afraid of?

Skylar: You're afraid of me! You're afraid that I won't love you back! Fuck it, I wanna give it a shot! At least I'm honest with you.

(By the way, that Will was a lucky bugger indeed. I've always fancied Minnie Driver, despite the dodgy name! As for Skylar, I think she might be onto something there! Whaddya think?)
.
.
.

"I fail to assert my needs"

Who said that then?

Well it obviously wasn't me - not the sort of thing I'm ever heard saying, that's for bloody sure! So I guess it must have been Him. Not only did He say it, he's in a bloody touchy-feely magazine saying it WITH HIS PHOTO! Soft Git!

The thing is, He's proud of his answer-piece about how how men and women communicate (or something) - he's not embarassed at all. No wonder his siblings think he's, er, 'different'.

So, the magazine?

Psychologies magazine of course, dear blog reader - what other magazine could it possibly be?

(When am I going to get the interview callup for Nuts magazine, or Zoo, that's what I want to know? Then I'll tell Nuts about my failing to assert my needs - failing at least 3 times a night, I should coco! Heheh! )

If What?

Rudyard Kipling once wrote a poem called If

Go on, read it! It won't take long...

Done? Okay, now it's a nice poem and all - Mr Kipling does write exceedingly good words (sorry, couldn't resist!) - but still, bugger me! ya gotta be kidding, ain't ya Rudders? So that's all you've got to do to be a man? Well, sign me up for being a woman right now, then - cos no way can it be as hard as being a man (if Rudyard Kipling's right, that is!). Yeah, I'll put up with the periods and doin' doggie if that's what it takes to be a woman, anything but having to endure that litany of impossible qualities to simply being a man.

Or is Rudyard talking about "A Man", that close cousin of another mythical creature called Real Man?

Let me ask you something: Do we have terms like real woman? No, we don't. So why is there such a notion of a real man? There are good and bad men, but there are not real men, just like there's no such thing as "being black" - "You're not very black are you!" states the brain-dead bimbo! It's a load of bollocks summed up, beautifully and eloquently, by Rudyard Kipling's poem.

If indeed!

Self-fulfilling Prophecies

Question: do you believe in self-fulfilling prophecies?

Do you worry about something so much, the washing machine breaking down for example, or your boyfriend doing a runner with the neighbour, that it actually comes to pass?

Seriously. Do you? Has something you've worried about for a while now actually happened? Has it?

Well, if so, I've got another question for you: whyja do that then?

That's some pretty f*cked-up thinking habits ya got there, make no mistake. I'd go see someone about it, if I were you. And I'd definitely go get your washing machine checked over too.

Go on. Do it now. And keep the rest of us from yer doom and gloom scenarios. (Your sort is not wanted around these parts no more...)

Married Man Syndrome

Married Man Syndrome?

Is this an impressive, intelligent article about our much-maligned Married Man?

Does it contain easy-to-say, but hard-to-do wisdom for women and men alike?

Is it food for thought?

Answers on a postcard, please!

PS Yes, I have been busy! Aint you?

42

42 is the answer to the question, what is the meaning of life, the universe and everything? At least according to author, Douglas Adams.

42 is also the age of The Writer of this blog. It's His birthday, today. So, a one, two, three, four...

"Happy Birthday to Him! Happy Birthday to Him! Happy Birthday to Da Other Guy! Happy Birthday to Him!"

Mummy, mummy, mummy!

My Mummy says that I am a good boy because I do what she tells me to do. I did get smacked once, hard on the leg - it left a red mark, too. My step-Dad hit me because I kicked my sister once when I couldn't stand her teasing any more.

Secrets and lies

Whilst He was working, or so He tells me, He discovered this little tidbit of wisdom

"if something is knowable, then assume it is known."

When you consider that it's actually referring to Google, and not keeping secrets like I thought it was, then you might feel a little shudder down your spine. Well I would. Particularly if you realise how many products Google has (e.g. toolbar, email, web stats etc.) that collect data. But Google is not the only data hog. Stores like Tesco love to collect the ol' info with their rewards schemes. Even that card scheme those "lucky, lucky, lucky" people living in London use - Urchin Card? - contains an awful lot of information about one's movements, don't you know.

Anyway, as I said, He was working and He shared the tidbit with me.

It's how I've always operated when it comes to keeping secrets, actually. Tell no-one. Simple as.

Who Said This?

"I cannot be happy whilst you, someone I care about, are not. I am not responsible for your happiness but it does not seem fair for me to find peace when your life is still shadowed in pain?"

Whoever said it, and I have a strong idea which Idiot it was, they are destined to live a life of struggle, for sure.

"It wasn't your fault," said the adult to the little boy in the photo. "It wasn't your fault."

Wipe the tear from your eye, Mr Idiot. It was not Your fault.

What Makes Him Happy?

"Bouncing on the Blue Ball and listening to the music with big basslines!"

So what makes you happy, then? What makes you feel like it's all really been worth it?

Answers on a postcard please and send it to Blue Peter....

The Last Line

Phew!

I've written it, at last, the last line in a novel that I wrote. Actually, it's a book, not a novel, and the last line is also the first line, and I didn't write the book, I'm just a character in it. But who's quibbling, here!

Want to know what it is? The last line, and all? Well I wasn't going to tell, but as I know you're curious and as I know that no bugger else reads this blog (yet) I'll tell. But you must promise not to share it with a soul! None of that "I know that Harry Potter dies in Book 7" nonsense. Last lines are important, see.

Okay, here goes.

But please don't laugh (or "I will die").

Why not?

Well it's not only a last line to a book, but it's also (one of) the last lines in the lives of people like you and me. And if you laugh at the line, you laugh at The Truth of Life.

And you should never laugh at Truth. (Unless it's a joke at Truth's expense, but then you know what I think about jokes, don't you!)

Yes, Truth (aka wisdom) always comes back to bite you in yer bum when you're not looking. (Ouch!)

Never laugh at truth or wisdom, and you'll live a happier life.

It's true.

Okay, then. Drum roll, maestro please. ("I thank you.")

The last line is...

"And that's how two characters should dance together in life."

(Hidden above. In white font. Hee hee!)

Abby Lee vs "The Married Man"

The Curse of The Married Man

Now I have not been prey to the curse of the married man, but I have heard stories. Me, I always thought that once you got married you put those lascivious tendencies behind you; you stopped trying to bed, bed, bed all before you. But this is not the case at all and I am a hopeless naive who could have married nearly twenty years ago when The Curse of The Single Man raged on in the hormones.

Abby Lee, on the other hand - she of the Girl With A One Track Mind - has had much experience of this creature. She's not impressed! And whilst I sympathise greatly with her (and many women's) predicament - I mean who wants to ward off the advances of a man whilst he is literally holding hands with his wife? - I also don't agree with the underlining sentiment in her blog post.

This is my comment I added to her blog. She may or may not have published it.

Dear Abby,

I was thinking about you, just now, so Googled you and found this post.(I'm writing a 'little something', and you get a mention. :) )

Whilst I sympathise a little with the situation you describe, your 'solution' highlights a 'women and men are different; and what women do is right and men do is wrong' kind of philosophy.

Don't get me wrong, I do not appreciate the excesses of the male gender at all, especially in Britain; in fact, I have a strong 'feminine side', although I like to think of this as a softer 'masculine side'. Still, I get a little fed up at 'male bashing' because, quite simply, they do things differently to 'us women'.

So, men look at the opposite sex; women look too.

The trouble is men do not look with subtlety; women do.

Ergo men are bad; women good.

Whilst I readily admit that 'men being more like women' would solve a lot of the problems of the world, particularly the relationship world, I simply ask this: "why can't women be more like men, instead?" or, more reasonably, "why can't we celebrate the differences between the sexes, rather than moan about them?".

Men and women are different. I say that's a good thing, and I believe you say that too.

Anyway, Abby, a pleasure as always. (No we have not met. I did send you some fan mail a while ago, but you chose to ignore it. So it goes!)

Boring John

PS I've had to rewrite this as it didn't post the first time, so much of the wit of the original comment has gone. (But then I'm a man, and am bound to say that, aren't I. Ho ho.)

PPS I'm not sure if you will post (or comment on) my comment so have taken the liberty to add it to my own 'vent space'. I have, of course, linked to your blog post for reference. Tara.