robinbloke: (Drugs)
That reminds me you know.

Acronyms that don't deliver. Or rather, perhaps their over use. Communication is a tricky weasel, sometimes you think you've got it by the tail but then after you release it to slink through the grass of freedom it doesn't quite deliver the trouser experience you were intending, because that's ferrets.

Anyway...

I think, I think it's time for new acroymns to express the real levels of actual amusement out there, let's stick with one emotion for the time being, Rome wasn't built in a day and all that malarky.

But I'll batter up on a biggy, hilarity. Oh yes, the lols1, the rotflmao and the lpmt2.
They're just not representative; I defy anyone who has used rotflmao to say that before typing that they were actually doing what they said they were.
So my, admittedly, less snappy4 proposals are:

aas - Appreciative Amused Snort5
ghc - Genuine Hearty Chuckle
htcmml - had to cover my mouth laughing9

and, a close contenor to aas for my favourite

itihml - I Think I Hurt Myself Laughing

T minus 1:17 to cow juice. Dammit.

Addendum:

icsyonamts7 - i could say yes or no and mean the same


1 lower case quite deliberately, they're a bit too loud for this time in the morning8 see, that's another thing to tackle already, right there - I'll get back to that one.
2 not quite, can't remember this one - it's new to me but can't remember what it is exactly. It tickled me though, feathers are a forte for it.
4 Probably. Still in concept at this stage...
5 I like where this is going
9 Note to self: Elcor.
8 Capitals. No deposit.
7 far far too long
robinbloke: (Talking pie!)
We were made from disused carbon packet hamstrings, woven in three piece shirts that draped themselves across us in lazy Styrofoam smiles. Eyes flowing like brick cast marshmallows seized the nape of their woollen dreams and sealed them tight against the harsh mood lighting of the winter’s morning. Then beyond this, past the eclipse dotted worries we rode on beams of pure castanet, not a single peak or leaf wound or fuelled save to point the ways out of the milestone hued lapse of thought. The crumbling never materialised, crunching down to the core of the sugarbowl it snared unwary travellers and supped their hairstyles on sweetly tuned misapprehension.
robinbloke: (me_RAH!)
I was that lost cantrip, a feeling squeezed over the ice one Sunday morning; the song didn't call me too much but I still followed it - the discount coupon would make it worthwhile I was sure. After all if you don't use them up you're just wasting them aren't you?

You're wasting your time.
Each moment is dripping away like a precious second falling from the stalegtite of time, hanging damaclese like over your head one by one the drips fall.
One two.
One two.
Through and through. Can you hear the sound that blade is making?
Twisting now, turning like a curl of pasta as it boils in the bubbles of air released by searing heat below.
Pan out, pull back.

The wider picture shows a calmer scene.
All lights must be extinguished before landing and your seatbelt must be secure.
You must remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete standstill and all the engines have been switched off.
Thank you for flying with us, we hope to see you soon.


Spelling? Pah. Takes too much thought.
robinbloke: (Default)
There are, by definition1, three usual ways to narrate a story. First person (I, we), second person (you) or third person (all other forms, allegedly) perspective. This is a little poor, only three basic ways? We've had a lot of time to develop language and stories now and I think it's about time new methods of storytelling were developed. Frankly we've been slacking off behind the bike sheds smoking a metaphor.

What we need are some new perspectives to spice up stories and bring them into the 21st century....

Second shooter perspective
All references to the actions of the primary character are deleted from the text, they never existed in the first place. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Third hand perspective
All narration is in the form of "I heard that she said that he said that John told him that Mickey's got another girlfriend, wouldn't stand for it if I was her!"

Forth dimension perspective
Time parameters are used for all characters in all cases; what and who exactly they are and what they are doing becomes entirely obscured by when and how long it takes them to do it.

Fifth Amendment perspective
This is, arguably, the easiest kind of book to write, since nothing is ever spoken to prevent incrimination. This leaves you with an entirely empty book.

Sixth Sense perspective
Characters never do or say anything, they simply sense it - in doing so the text becomes an endless stream of adjectives that mesh together the characters without actually indicating where one starts and another stops.

Six panel perspective
All text is entirely set in cartoon bubbles, zap, kapow and other helpful phrases are scattered liberally across the text, margin, title and everywhere else.

Six foot under perspective
The narrator and all people in the text are always referred to in the past tense as they're all dead.

Six degrees perspective
The further you read through the text the more the characters change and become important, each change requires an increase in the self-important referencing of the character until they become "God emperor(ess) of the world" essential for any Beckham biography.

Eight ball perspective
Every time you pick up the book the perspective of the characters changes, sometimes there isn't one at all. Other times new characters turn up who seem entirely arbitrary. Just keep opening it until you get the story you want.



1 In English, as far as I or Wikipedia defines it, for the purposes of this wibble, no guarantee is made to the actual possible numbers of ways that really exist, implied or otherwise here in this wibble. No similarity to persons alive, dead, zombie or otherwise is intended here, elsewhere or under your sofa - where you left your keys last night.
robinbloke: (Default)
A milestone idea you know, step out from the porch into the rain. Dark clouds. Heavy black and pendulous. It's cold. Sleek down the skin as it soaks through your clothes. No sign of thunder, its just rain, rain, rain; flowing over your bare skin as you stand on cold pavement. It's like a shock, a shock until the tangled flappings bring you surfing onto the plateau of reality. Damn, and noone ordered the donuts?
Speaks a lot for it I can tell you, too slow, too slow, but a needle faster, get into position. The starters gun waiting as you meld with the situation and let it come one... one... two... three. Backwards. An echo through the air. The retort comes back to your ears before you've even moved.
Now. Go.
This is the moment.
Pull everything from the lazy torpor of anticipation and fly, sing into the air on wings brought from the moment.
Out in the clouds the world turns.
One giant m and m underneath you. Nourishment, entertainment.
The eagle has landed.
Now look at it.
Is everything....

Moments... lost.

I can feel the silence, above the random chatter of mouths and radio, the blank silence that swallows, denies our existence as we squabble in a petty circle around a burning hydrogen resource.
Insert intelligent physics comment here.
Pause.
Shrug those shoulders and watch the stars.

Feel a moment’s humility, at least
robinbloke: (Default)
Roll up, roll up; get yer horoscopes here, nice shiny new horoscopes the like o' which the world 'as never seen1. Whoops, watch your hand there madam, that ones got a bit of a bite on 'im, nasty little bugger that. Pick yer horoscope here, we have all sizes shapes and colours catered for every occasion! Heading out for the night, well may I recommend the sardonic yet hopeful horoscope in the corner, yes I know he's growling sir but that's just his way of showing affection. Lovely little beastie once you get used to his teeth on your arm, and yes madam he does come in purple as well.

Yes indeedy folks, the world of sugar once again presents you with the opportunity to have innane drivel generated about whatever I happen to be hallucinating highly meaningful aspects of your life, times and toupee. As horoscopes are the medium of analysing the planets as they effect your daily life and social interactions so are sugarscopes the way of analysing how sugar effects your digestion, brain, fear of the number 3 and kinky relationship with maple syrup.

This offer lasts until I break2 and scarf down 52.5g of sugar, glucose syrup, fruit juices from concentrate (25%) and a variety of other less savoury ingredients churned together in a soulless mechanical manufacturing plant for my own personal delight.

Just put down an appeal to the sugar along with your favourite carbohydrate packed foodstuff and, well, something will happen.

Oooo trisodium citrate, yummy.




1 With no apologies whatsoever to The onion
2 Before 11/2007 at the latest, or the stuff will go off. Although I'll be lucky if I make 2 pm today frankly.
3 I have sand in my ear

Disclaimer: All this said I have, believe it or not, been cutting down on my daily sugar intake in order to be vaguely sensible about this whole thing and so that my <insert internal organ here> doesn't explode screaming in a flaming ball of marshmallows.
robinbloke: (Winged monkey!)
Answers are hard things to come by, ask any politician about scandal X (involving a fruitbat, three litres of liquidised cheese and a Harley Davidson) and they'll happily talk about the failed policies of the other party. Ask your boss about a raise and they'll take a firm interest in the football results of last night. It all goes back, if you ever asked your parents where babies come from they probably told you something about a stork or a cabbage patch, which may have led you to believe that all children were actually manufactured in South Korea under exclusive license.

Throughout history people have used religion, alchemy, casting bones, the weather, the movements of planets far far away, small pieces of putty, nicely painted cards and even economics, rational thought and reasoning in order to provide answers. More often than not, as the way of these predictive things goes, they're wrong. I mean take a look at the weather, how often does the Beeb weather service tell you it's going to snow/hail/shine/rain polar bears? All the time. And all too often you're left standing in your back garden holding a giant net waiting for ursine precipitation to no avail.

You can't trust anyones predictions these days. But the answers are out there, I have seen the light - I as a sugar based lifeform have now realised the true way of answering all lifes ills1, sugar! I have seen it before with the amazing predictive nature and herding instincts of smarties, a pack I'd bought previously formed interesting shapes and worryingly asymmetrical colour schemes. Surely they were trying to tell me something? Trying to communicate with me and give me answers to the core of lifes secrets. I was still wondering that when I ate the last one.

However today I have purchased an official mystic pack of sugar - I know that's what it is, because it says so on the packet2 and now it is here today to answer all your questions!

If you're still with me that is, lets just try and wake a few people up...

The mystic pack of sugar will answer all your questions!

Just ask me a question and the mystic sugar will answer in it's own unfathomable way, and I being the guru of sugar shall fathom it's unknowable knowledge.

Answers available as long as the sugar survives3.

Update:
All the sugar is now eaten. The time of dextrose guruification has passed.



1 To within 50% tolerance.
2 In biro.
3 Disclaimer: Some answers may be obfuscated through the sugar screaming for help.
robinbloke: (Guitar)
For me music is a very emotional thing; in now-space and in memory-space; moods uplifted or twisted from sound. So it's a very pleasant trip every now and then to wander back through music you've not listened to for a while to remember and relive how that music makes you feel, emotional memories if you will.

That's one of the problems with mp3s, I believe, although an excellent medium for storage and transit of music in general (up to a point in quality, insert disclaimer here, reverse your charges where neccessary) it doesn't have that tangeable quality of a CD/LP/Tape/Bongo, the music itself becomes even more ethereal and insubstantial. If you have a CD then you have a visual memory, a picture from the CD cover to link in memory to the sound itself. This is why picture disks were so fantastic - it made the music and audiovisual thing and why music videos should be more than just the band on stage, they should be art darling, they should help put across the ideas, concepts and visual senses that the music is trying to make you feel. Music is emotion. This is also why films like Baraka and Koyaanisqatsi are something everyone should see.

But the great thing about mp3s is that I have my entire music collection with me here at work on a box small enough to fit in my backpack. All hail random play and mp3's!
robinbloke: (me_Eyeball)
So now we're all solutions.

Don't tell me this one has passed you by; everything is a solution now, pizza solutions DIY solutions, managements solutions.
The whole aspect of answers to everything is now the most important message. It's not that we've provided food for your hungry belly because you need nutrition to survive and your body is warning you that it expects fuel soon.
Oh no. Not that.
It's because we, your helpful pizza service, have the final answer to life, the universe and pizza in a resplendant cardboard packaging? Are you telling me that?
To my mind the word solution is horribly, hideously abused. If it lived in the real world it would living in camp x-ray, have its head down the toilet as a massive puntuation mark in a sergents uniform repeatedly flushed.
To me solution is the answer to a precise, mechanical, definable process that is understood. It's a mathmatical result of rules, numbers and logic.
Not a 12" round pile of cheese, tomato and -please no- pineapple and mushroom? What are you doing???

That said however, my major problem is, if everything is a solution what solution am I?

What solution are you?

Addendum: If you like, post a word you like and I'll tell you what solution you are. Limited time offer while stocks last.
robinbloke: (me_Blur)
It's not easy being a floating head.
Besides the lack of feedback it can be very weird to suddenly look down and go, "Whoa, body." in an entirely Bill and Ted like fashion.
But there it was, just there, under where my neck normally likes to hang ten over a passing soundwave or three, get some kicks with my ears and laugh at all the worlds noises.
But no, my neck had gone silent. Well, it's not ever been entirely silent since I wore that tie. That sort of thing leaves echos I tell you; I mean we're talking ancient reverbs through history when I put that tie on, reality was fundamentally changed and the world looked around to wonder what exactly was giving reality such a damn headache.
Three aspirin later my neck is still quiet dammit.
robinbloke: (Default)
Enter the gavel. Holding aloft as if awaiting the final stroke of midnight. An endless second as it hovers, gravity timeles as it waits. Horizon to infinity. A thousand moments caught in time, each no less than the third before it and twice the one to follow; each blinks and reasserts, calls for a single defining uniqueness that cant be held (oh Ill get you and your little dog too for that, oh yes I will my pretties - arent you the orb that is dual?)
Nevertheless.
Regardless.
Neverregard.
Direction is an illusion; hear it insine, inside, curve of sound walling out from source to wash over, wave after wave, roaring over the shingles of the mind.
The hiss that remains and crackles down between each little gap is the last reminder.
Catch it.
Hold it up and see it as it fades, down, down, down down into the singular last reverberation left behind by the retreating h20.

And before you the wave crests again, washing in and swallowing you in a blanket change of state. From air to liquid; feel the
feel the
feel the
feel the
ahhhh music

And back to the chorus that is being sung again, what the words were are lost; but regardless the sound is a note at the heart; a psycosomatical (spelling, at this hour? get thee to a gin shop!) wossname of thingy from meh in blarg just past tooting left and fwibble and carry on until sunrise.

Warmth all over the skin.
Golden feeling and rising up, like being reborn.
All to much reality in a blanket over the skin.
robinbloke: (me_Blur)
Chocolate is the universal solution to anything.

Proof?

You want proof.

Pah. Fish. Wibbles and old wet socks to you.

Oh ok.
Now, lets see how about a recent problem on the emerald Isle where new passports issued have RFID1 tags.
Now, in the good ol' US of A they have already issued such things, but being smart cookies they thought to themselves, "'ere some geezer is likely gonna want to nick this info, better stop the blighter doing that." and so they stuck a bit of foil in the passport to stop anyone sneakily getting info from the RFID.
However our friends across the water2...
(Brief interlude music here, sit back and think of green fields filled with daisies, now let the daisies eyes slowly open, petals unfurling slowly in a clockwork winding spinning motion that flickers on each dew drop still clinging to their edge. A wave of wind washes over the field, and ripples flow across every blade of grass; it's cool, the clouds slide more to the side revealing the sun. Eyes flicker open in each of the flowers and then as one they open their voices to shout to the sun....)
... )

Anyway. Yes, friends over the water. Anyway, they haven't put foil in their nice shiny new passports, and this is a concern for some. However, I have the solution.
"You have the solution?" you ask, worrying possibly at this point if it involves anything explosive.
Sadly no.
However what it does involve is chocolate.
Sit yourself comfortably and I'll begin, I recommend a nice pillow and some music plus a cup o' your preferred beverage.
But that's just for sitting comfortably.

Cycling back at lunchtime from my pad I thought to myself; 'blimey I'm still a bit hungry' now the thought of the vendo-matic machines at work with their sub-par mass produced chocs didn't really appeal, what I wanted was a slightly more expensive product, still mass produced but with superior packaging to make myself feel good about having treated myself to something before I'd even opened the wrapper.
That's a mark of quality, I can tell you.
So anyway, I bought some galaxy, because the petrol station didn't have anything that was decent that didn't look like it should be giftwrapped, and I didn't want to treat myself that much; I mean it's not my birthday or anything but I'm not going to splash out more on me if it isn't, I mean who do I think I am?
Galaxy. Bought. Returned to door of work and raise my backpack to the door tag.
Damn thing doesn't work. Now we use keycards with RFIDs in to open our door, damn thing wasn't working.
So I wave my bag a little more, looking steadily more and more like I'm trying to bash the keycard lock open with a backpack before finally I relent and open the pouch with my wallet and the keycard in it; and lo, the damn reason it won't open is because the bar of chocolate, helpfully wrapped in foil, has fallen between the two halves of my wallet and has screwed up the RFID.

So, there you go; a solution to all the worlds problems in bar form.
I mean if you bombed Baghdad with 200,000 embossed chocolate bars with the words "We're really sorry, signed the collation, but we're doing our best." I'm sure that would do a hell of lot more for public relations eh?


1 That’s Radio Frequency Identification Tags to you boys and girls, little coils of metal that when hit by a radio signal generate a tiny little bit of energy, when they do a circuit starts up - with just enough energy to send a signal back. Nifty eh?
2 Well, my friends3 across the water, depending on where you are you may be that friend, or person, or it may be an entirely different bit of water.
3 When I say friends, what I really mean is you have a roughly (number of my friends in Ireland)/(population in Ireland) chance of being a friend, but given it's only a little bit of an extrapolation since I don't expect everyone in Ireland to read this we can safely assume that well, nothing really, nothing I tell you NOOOOTHHHING.4
4 Ah nothing. Nothing is eternal, nothing is forever; my favourite personal quote, although this is the only quote of mine I actually remember, well, when I remember it - if I don't remember it then by definition it's not remembered. Then again we can assume nothing, so unless someone comes along with a big fat mathematical proof of what I didn't or did just say there then I'm pretty safe as houses.
robinbloke: (Hogsaw)
because )
robinbloke: (food)
Hello, my name is Robin and I'm a carnivore.

I don't believe this is something I need to particularly confess, it's more just a way of starting a conversation thread and then luring you into my usual rambling style. Then before you know it you're two sentences into this and you wonder if I'm actually going to go anywhere with this.
At this point, traditionally, an evil cackle is normally appropriate.

However, partially in deference to the many people I know who are vegetarians and partially because I wanted to see if I could actually manage it without being physically sick yesterday for the first time in my life I attempted to eat five a day. For those of you not in the know it's the laudable idea to try and get people to eat more healthily by eating five different kinds of fruit and vegetables a day1.

When you're me, this is not an easy thing. Now, most people have one or two veggies they don't like; for myself I view with distaste that can only be purged with napalm any large gathering of the green growing freakish things anywhere near me. It's not so much the taste of these things, which in itself is usually bad enough, but the texture of these things that generally turns my stomach - but enough of my weird ways (Read the book when it is published) - onwards to my Herculean task:

So five a day; this had to principally consist of fruit if I was going to have any chance whatsoever of achieving it, and the first two were pretty easy; I drink enough orange juice to power a sizeable Tango factory so that wasn’t too bad; add to this a crunchy apple and I'm 40% of the way there already. Which is where things get difficult as there is very little else I could eat.
After some searching and thought I finally located some dried banana chips, which were close enough for me. Over halfway there, see, it couldn't possibly be that bad could it?
But by the time for my evening meal, time is running out, from hereon things aren't easy; a side order of new spuds2 with my cod fillets got me almost there - but what else?

Microwaved peas, left over from another meal with strangely healthily visitors. Yum. Oh yes. Yum yum. Bleh.

And with that victory was in my grasp; the tape was cut, the pigs flew and nations cheered. The vegetables had been defeated. After that amount of effort I was certain that I had consumed enough vegeons or whatever it is that is supposed to lie within their fowl green contents to last me a decade at least, I'd lasted this long without them and I think I can manage a pretty long while again without them.

I'm sticking to sugar.



1 This is actually meant to be five different kinds of fresh fruit or veg a day, but I'll need every break I can get here.
2 Although I will contest these are a root and not a vegetable in every other argument I make.
robinbloke: (hitman)
Lyrics Quiz, because it's 13:32... )
robinbloke: (Default)
Ah the old cogs and wheels, better of by half you know. The point wavers and then goes to get a sandwich. Sandwich in this heat? He was eating crisps I tell you.
Excuses of salt my left foot. Just a few degrees off the right at this juncture. Cymbals. Unknown data. Frankly at this stage all anyone wanted to do was find out exactly why it was we had that line on the screen in the first place the right side of the wrong head I think we may not know who exactly we are it's a different level just going on and on like a radio sound in the static I had the moment.
Caught it.
Hah.
Poke the little bugger with a stick and dance on it.
Rah rah rah.

Ahem.
Right then. Episode two, lets try again.
Need something to start it but now what to do ahaha now it's working the flow of the river is the sign of the film and the movie listings page by page paragraph whole forget the spelling don't look don't leap don't sing or twist the spelling is all gone and now the words are off the records.

Definitely need to improve my typing I think.
Left is going well but I'm using a single finger for the right.

Crescendo. And it was only half done, half baked, baked in this heat I tell you tell me tell her herb her hard hat hail mail mail on the wash don't try don't look in the sink damn that bike in that nuclear shelter she didn't look back and walk on for the path before what did I didn't I did I do. Least it's alive. What is alive.

Minimum point of consciousness, at what point do you want to switch off; what question, condition or state would you define for yourself to be considered 'off'.
Would you want to squeeze every last moment from your life right up until just your eyes barely twitch when they put the feeding tube in your arm.
Would you wake up and realise that you can no longer quote five digit primes by rote and decide it's time to leap off that bridge.

State or sense or lack thereof.

In a data stream of the world would you count for parity?

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