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[May. 24th, 2008|12:09 am] |
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And there we go. 8 months of my first full time job all over. A strange but brilliant 8 months. And it's all fucking over. I have a summer and free time, 8 months since I gave up the latter. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 3rd, 2008|01:27 pm] |
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It's funny how words just cannot describe. Emotions and expectations perhaps a bit too high, but they always are in the first game. And after numerous drinks. Much singing, much shouting. Go out for a piss at half time and I'm seriously annoyed. How can we throw it away again? As I'm in a secluded area in Sophia Gardens I realise how drunk I am and how bad it probably won't be if we lose. But they I regain sense. We've got to win. It's a miracle we're only ten points down at half time. Get back to the cauldron, resigned to losing and playing criminally. Then a penalty. Then Byrne crosses over. Go mental. Always do on a try, no matter what the score. And then, as we're still celebrating that try, Phillips crosses, drops the ball. Everyone goes mental. I can't. Too much doubt. Years of waiting, try awarded. The place goes literally insane. We hold on for another ten minutes, with nervous ecstasy. The final whistle goes. I have not gone so mental in fucking ages. Grabbing everyone, shouting, screaming, singing. Falling over chairs, high fiving everyone except Toby and Alice who look quite somber, the complete black to our white. And so we jump on chairs until the place empties, until I can't breath, speak or sweat anymore, and we go outside, ready for next year. There are no words. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 20th, 2008|10:06 pm] |
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can't wait till this contract runs out, or when i finish work for the summer. at least, that's the plan, cos i can't stand this no time business. i'll be used to it later, in a few years, but at the moment my feet are feet are far too itchy to stick around in the same building, in the same room, at the same computer in the same chair. it's like dissertations, except with a more rigid timescale and no way out. erg. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2008|09:28 pm] |
Xmas was good. Family together for once, and got stuff I needed, like sox or shampoo, rather than stuff that I ask for but don't really need.
Brighton was great. Can't really put it any other way, and I appreciate it so much more as I actually earn the days off too. I also love the Park Crescent. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 21st, 2007|12:17 am] |
Speaking to Gareth from Zabrinski: first, he liked my stuff. Second, he asked me round for a smoke (couldn't: work), third, it made me realise that anyone, anyone, can be a medium sized artist in Y Sin Roc Gymraeg.
Demo erbyn Ionawr. Rhaid I Rywbeth Ddigwydd. |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 5th, 2007|05:22 pm] |
Starting to settle in here. Mainly cos I'm moving in soon with Chris, Rob, Owen and the late Toby. Actually really nice house, newly furbished and everything for only £45 a week. Have shitloads of stuff to sort out though.
These two weeks I have mostly:
-Been to see City twice. First game was shit, Purse missed a last minute penalty, and the horror of watching all the Coventry fans going so mental was too much to bear. Second was mildly better, although I'd imagine beating Leyton Orient 1-0 would have been disappointing if you'd offered it to me beforehand. Jimmy and Fowler played though, and the chant were quite funny: "your support is fucking shit". It was. But fair play to anyone who goes to Cardiff on a Wednesday to watch a league cup game. Walked all the way to the Bay |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 5th, 2007|06:39 pm] |
Just at Grangetown and the guy looks at my Brighton to Eastbrook ticket, and says
"Nearly home mate"
More right thank you think. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 5th, 2007|12:33 pm] |
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On Exactitude in Science . . . In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such Perfection that the map of a single Province occupied the entirety of a City, and the map of the Empire, the entirety of a Province. In time, those Unconscionable Maps no longer satisfied, and the Cartographers Guilds struck a Map of the Empire whose size was that of the Empire, and which coincided point for point with it. The following Generations, who were not so fond of the Study of Cartography as their Forebears had been, saw that that vast Map was Useless, and not without some Pitilessness was it, that they delivered it up to the Inclemencies of Sun and Winters. In the Deserts of the West, still today, there are Tattered Ruins of that Map, inhabited by Animals and Beggars; in all the Land there is no other Relic of the Disciplines of Geography. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 20th, 2007|02:12 pm] |
Simple Kid- Old Domestic Cat
Stayin home tonight
Stayin out of the light
Just goin potter or walk round the flat
Like an old domestic cat
Goin look at my face
Goin to stare into to space
Goin talk to myself se how I’m doin these days
Try come out of the haze
Just to sit reading quietly behind closed doors
Cook food while listening to Radio 4
Don’t want no troubles or lovers like that
Just wanna stay at home like old domestic cat
You write letters so well
All your heavens in hell
You said your glass was half empty but your bottle was full
And I found that dull
Stayin home tonight
Ain’t goin winning no fights
I’ve got a song I’ve been meaning to write
Bout a cat that sat on a mat
Just to scribble on a crossword while watchin the bill
Butter on some toast or lass of cold milk
Don’t want no troubles or lovers like that
Just wanna stay at home like an old domestic cat
Glad he found this song, and realised that it WAS him.
"Words are like bullets: once you've fired, you can't stop them"
And with this, I'm giving this journal up for its main purposes. For a start, I never wanted to be kingbeerex, only cos some Russian stole kingbee did I take up this one. Secondly, It's too hard to write stuff here cos I can't just resort to metaphors due to my own censorship either.
_
Come to think of it, I can't be arsed to change. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 8th, 2007|11:56 pm] |
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And one more thing: I still have a weird guilt/ worry when I chat to people in ear shot of teachers/ tutors, as if speaking English was wrong again.... |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 23rd, 2007|12:41 am] |
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"This is just the beginning" |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 3rd, 2007|09:14 pm] |
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Done 7,000 words. So am now lying in bed with the guitar, a stir fry, and the Liverpool game on TV. I earn shit like this. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 12th, 2007|11:41 pm] |
http://www.sing4wales.com/saesneg/?page_id=13
Yma O Hyd
In the Romantic period, Edward Lyhud and Iolo Morgannwg rewrote 'traditional' Welsh history to attempt to rekindle some type of Cymraeg national consciousness. In the 30's Saunders Lewis, Lewis Valentine a.y.b did the same in order to give Cymru a history: ironic, as the people rewriting (or writing) Cymru's history were coincidentally the founders of what was then the Welsh Nationalist Party (soon to be Plaid Cymru). And then in 1981 Dafydd Iwan, soon to be Plaid Cymru's Premier writes Yma O Hyd, promoting the 'fact' that the Cymry has been there for years. Symbolic construction of difference anyone? |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 1st, 2007|08:37 am] |
"Gwnewch y pethau bychain"
Dewi Sant |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 9th, 2007|03:54 pm] |
"Seek the truth, hear the truth, learn the truth, love the truth, speak the truth, hold the truth, and defend the truth until death"
Jan Hus |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 5th, 2007|07:04 am] |
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Who knows what happened? To be honest, I'd rather not remember a thing. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 3rd, 2007|01:02 pm] |
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AGH. Six Nations starts. Can't wait. Another boss few months of rugby. |
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kingbeerex's journal