According to the Greenwich Mean Time + 1:00 (British Summer Time) Clock it is 11:38:45... 46... 47... You get the picture. Time is ticking along as we trundle into the later part of the year. Time has been ticking away as my fingers press down on these little buttons, and it's time I won't be able to get back. Seconds, minutes, hours... These turn to days, months and years... You get the idea - I trust you're not a mindless heap of flesh. If you haven't worked out yet, time is measuring system, used to compare durations of events and the intervals between them. Scientifically, philosophically and religiously, time is held close to much work. If there was no time, where would we be?
So with that in mind what happens when you venture into the pool of time. It's an incredibly complex system, brains implode and skulls crack with the mere thought of time travel, paradoxes, Newtonian Time, time dilation... Google the word 'Time.' See how many search results the magical Google has produced; "2,910,000,000 for 'Time.'" It's a rather large topic of discussion.
Non-fiction and fiction alike have produced some incredible work using the bases of Time - H.G. Welles: The Time Machine is a truly incredibly work of writing fusing the reality of time with Science-Fiction and making time travel seem so simple my left testicle could saddle up a little gizmo to transport it's self into the future... Only to be horribly disappointed when it sees itself still hanging there, maybe a little lower and more shriveled with a grey comb over of wiry pubic hair. So yes! Time Travel! From Doctor Who traveling through time and space in his Tardis to Marty McFly hitting 88MPH in a DeLorean sending him thirty years into the past.
Time Travel, of course, is the premise of moving between different moments in time, either sending objects, information and even in some cases Arnold Schwarzenegger backwards or forwards in time from the present time. Despite time travel being a common catalyst in fiction it has been arguably possible to perform this phenomenon. Writing out the idea of time travel has begin to give my brain a sharp and horrible pain let alone delving into the scientific explanations to whether or not we actually could. Wormholes, General Relativity, the 'Delayed Choice Quantum Eraser' experiment.
If you step back and think long and hard about the concept and idea that these scientists and artists are trying to create and in most cases, bring to life, it can really give you a demolishing and bleak outlook on things. You're just a bunch of atoms sitting here looking at more atoms that are making up this computer screen, on a desk - made up of more atoms, in a house made out of atoms, in a world just made up of millions, billions and trillions of atoms. Countless atoms that can just be thrown up, down and all around, like a puppet with tangled strings.
With time travel still more grounded more in fiction than reality it's pretty safe to say that those lost hours of happiness and naivety shall stay lost in the past. Untouched and unreachable. Just like the second that went after you finished reading This word. It's now gone and it's not coming back. Time has moved on now and know doubt it'll be against you what ever you are doing. To now get those dishes dry before The X-Factor starts, to catch that train to get to that important meeting, to say goodbye to someone you still love after all those years before you move away.
I wonder if the DeLorean would really help capture back those 'good times' or the reason time travel hasn't been developed properly is because those times are left in the past for a reason and in the back of our minds we know we shouldn't have them back. 88MPH sounds like a good idea to me to get back that time you and i adored.
Save the clock tower?
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Bye Bye Summer Time Telly
Today is the 1st of September. Summers coming to a close and I've began to feel a certain comfort watching the night creep up and cover up the sun so early. It's admirable in knowing that soon we can become comfortable outside, wrapped up in warm clothing; coats, scarfs, hats and cloves. It's also a good date - the 1st of September because Big Brother wraps up soon. I'm not a basher of 'Big B' but I'm also not a lover. I don't stay in every night fixated on my telly box watching Bum Face pick his nose then wipe it on the florescent sofa to later hear Smelly Bollock moan and complain about the already exacerbating situation that they are all in. What with next years being the last, I do hope someone actually ticks over one day and commits several sever cases of brutal murder.
I tend to watch Big Brother when I really cannot be bothered to lift my fingers or it just grabs my attention at that moment in time. It then becomes enjoyable for me to point and laugh at these people, it also gives me to think about what I would do if I was a housemate. I would go to the kitchen were Spade Face is making some toast to which I would then begin making conversation with her, I would then wiggle in the fact that Twat Mouth has been talking about Spade Face behind her back. OMG! Gossip unfolds. Bull shitted, stirred up twoddle made up by me. I'd then pour myself a bowl of Frosties, sit back on the boggie cover sofa and wait for the fireworks to erupt. Don't hate me for it, everyone loves watching a bitch fight.
Another Channel 4 reality-wank-stain-show is the prep infested Shipwrecked. My hangovers are made worse when I turn on my telly to find these pretty faced 20 something twats bumble around on a beach. I don't really understand the premise for this show - sadly. At first I thought it was some kind of 21st Century televised Auschwitz programme. I was hoping we could call in and vote for the Plank we wanted gassed. But no, it becomes what can only be described as a partially scripted soap opera or the menstruation of Lost. This creation is like watching two TV executives run into each other at high speed whilst one of them holds a copy of the latest Jack Wills catalogue and the other holds a copy of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. It's a disgusting. If I was given the chance to be the producer of that 'programme' I'd still keep the format pretty similar, just change a few little bits here and there. Firstly, I'd cover the beach in landmines, hidden in the sand. This will really make them think is a twatish beach party is really worth a member of The Sharks losing a limb in a horrific explosion. Next, each day I would release a new creature on the island - I think I might this part a phone in thing, may as well make some piss pennies whilst I'm in charge. Each week a new animal/creature would be shipped on to the islands to join the contestants, they would range from a large collection of poisonous spiders to a wild and hungry tiger. Like I said, the public can phone in and vote the animal they would like to see prowl the island.
That could teach those blank, wooden pretty faced bellends a thing or too about going on 'Gap Year' or 'Finding themselves.' Pricks.
I tend to watch Big Brother when I really cannot be bothered to lift my fingers or it just grabs my attention at that moment in time. It then becomes enjoyable for me to point and laugh at these people, it also gives me to think about what I would do if I was a housemate. I would go to the kitchen were Spade Face is making some toast to which I would then begin making conversation with her, I would then wiggle in the fact that Twat Mouth has been talking about Spade Face behind her back. OMG! Gossip unfolds. Bull shitted, stirred up twoddle made up by me. I'd then pour myself a bowl of Frosties, sit back on the boggie cover sofa and wait for the fireworks to erupt. Don't hate me for it, everyone loves watching a bitch fight.
Another Channel 4 reality-wank-stain-show is the prep infested Shipwrecked. My hangovers are made worse when I turn on my telly to find these pretty faced 20 something twats bumble around on a beach. I don't really understand the premise for this show - sadly. At first I thought it was some kind of 21st Century televised Auschwitz programme. I was hoping we could call in and vote for the Plank we wanted gassed. But no, it becomes what can only be described as a partially scripted soap opera or the menstruation of Lost. This creation is like watching two TV executives run into each other at high speed whilst one of them holds a copy of the latest Jack Wills catalogue and the other holds a copy of William Golding's Lord of the Flies. It's a disgusting. If I was given the chance to be the producer of that 'programme' I'd still keep the format pretty similar, just change a few little bits here and there. Firstly, I'd cover the beach in landmines, hidden in the sand. This will really make them think is a twatish beach party is really worth a member of The Sharks losing a limb in a horrific explosion. Next, each day I would release a new creature on the island - I think I might this part a phone in thing, may as well make some piss pennies whilst I'm in charge. Each week a new animal/creature would be shipped on to the islands to join the contestants, they would range from a large collection of poisonous spiders to a wild and hungry tiger. Like I said, the public can phone in and vote the animal they would like to see prowl the island.
That could teach those blank, wooden pretty faced bellends a thing or too about going on 'Gap Year' or 'Finding themselves.' Pricks.
Thursday, 13 August 2009
It's Not Dark Yet
It's times like these when life is thrown up, around and pulled right back down. No doubt i'm not the only person in the world feeling like this right now. Every teenager has or will (even is) going through this. Theres alot on my plate right I suppose. Days are falling out of time for me to leave for University. I should feel gratified that I'm leaving the bull shit that goes on here and start fresh over, with new friends, new surroundings and the capital city on my door step. But even that seems almost like a lost cause. I'm starting a new life in theory, changing my address, paying rent... I won't be able to bumble into my bathroom and find a new tube of tooth paste. I will physically have to travel to the supermarket and purchase the minty fresh gel to polish my teeth and gums. Don't get me wrong. I cannot wait. But at the same time it's a life changing move. Scary to think about at this moment in time. I need to pack up my room, my DVD's, my clothes, my Xbox and move it all to Roehampton Halls of Residence.
It's almost half way through Augest now and I remember moaning and being horribly depressed that Univsity wasn't coming quick enough. Now it's almost a month away, i'm sill moaning and being pessimistic towards the time. I want to be there now. I want to be in my room, with this beer and this film on typing words at this time - but in my residence at West London.
It'll happen. Before I know it.
Untill then, I'm sitting in my room, in my home in Hacheston. It's comfortable and familiar and it fits me for certain frames of mind but I know I want to living in London. I'm a city boy, a Britpop boy. The culture and the atmosphere are what I crave in my blood.
Bob Dylan wrote -"I Know It Looks Like I'm Moving, But I'm Standing Still." and what he wrote makes true for me. Despite seeming okay, I never am, and I probably never will be. But things keep traveling, for better or for worse and it's life.
It's almost half way through Augest now and I remember moaning and being horribly depressed that Univsity wasn't coming quick enough. Now it's almost a month away, i'm sill moaning and being pessimistic towards the time. I want to be there now. I want to be in my room, with this beer and this film on typing words at this time - but in my residence at West London.
It'll happen. Before I know it.
Untill then, I'm sitting in my room, in my home in Hacheston. It's comfortable and familiar and it fits me for certain frames of mind but I know I want to living in London. I'm a city boy, a Britpop boy. The culture and the atmosphere are what I crave in my blood.
Bob Dylan wrote -"I Know It Looks Like I'm Moving, But I'm Standing Still." and what he wrote makes true for me. Despite seeming okay, I never am, and I probably never will be. But things keep traveling, for better or for worse and it's life.
Saturday, 4 July 2009
Confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur of what is known as...
Everyone is kicking up a fuss about it being the 4th of July today. So what? We're British. We don't care about anyone else than our self and our culture. What better way to ignore the indepence of the American's than watch Blur perform live in Hyde Park. Well, it was actually yesterday, the 3rd of July. I was fortunate enough to posses a ticket for Blur's reunion tour (the one they announced to NME when they first confirmed that they were back.)
On the train heading for London I egally awaited seeing the skyline of London town. Whenever I see the landmarks it always fills me with a sense of mirth - quite rare for me. This was topped off with the knowledge that I would be be standing in Hyde Park, a cold beer in one hand and a fag in the other. And I was. 4 O'clock came and there I was; 5 rows from the front with over 50,000 people standing behind in a city that quite frankly is amazing.
Florence + The Machine, Vampire Weekend and two other crazy not-very-important band's warmed up the crowd before the Brit-Pop quartet hit the stage. The filler music ended and the crowed began to bellow as Alex James - complete with cigarette hanging from mouth, Dave Rowntree, Graham Coxon and Damon Albarn all came on to the stage. It felt amazing standing there, like going back 15 years to when Brit-Pop reigned.
They kicked off their set with 'She's So High' which sent us all into awe. Me, especially. It was marvelous. "Love in the '90's" indeed it felt. They played all their career spanning anthem's, singles and fan favorites. Ending with two encores and finishing with the incredible 'The Universal."
One can only hope for more Brit-Pop to keep me satisfied.
Jarvis... If you somehow in hell read this, give the people Pulp.
On the train heading for London I egally awaited seeing the skyline of London town. Whenever I see the landmarks it always fills me with a sense of mirth - quite rare for me. This was topped off with the knowledge that I would be be standing in Hyde Park, a cold beer in one hand and a fag in the other. And I was. 4 O'clock came and there I was; 5 rows from the front with over 50,000 people standing behind in a city that quite frankly is amazing.
Florence + The Machine, Vampire Weekend and two other crazy not-very-important band's warmed up the crowd before the Brit-Pop quartet hit the stage. The filler music ended and the crowed began to bellow as Alex James - complete with cigarette hanging from mouth, Dave Rowntree, Graham Coxon and Damon Albarn all came on to the stage. It felt amazing standing there, like going back 15 years to when Brit-Pop reigned.
They kicked off their set with 'She's So High' which sent us all into awe. Me, especially. It was marvelous. "Love in the '90's" indeed it felt. They played all their career spanning anthem's, singles and fan favorites. Ending with two encores and finishing with the incredible 'The Universal."
One can only hope for more Brit-Pop to keep me satisfied.
Jarvis... If you somehow in hell read this, give the people Pulp.
Thursday, 25 June 2009
I Thought Summer's Were Supposed To Be Entertaining...?
Summer 2009 began on March the 29th, apparently. It's that time when you forget to put your clocks forward and you use the excuse of the change in time to claim your too tired to do anything or were late for work. Bull shit, you live in the 21st Century. One way or another you'd find out - unless you live in the door ways of the desolate Woolworths, but then you just fail, full stop.
Back to the beginning... Summer is here, my second and final year of college is over and done with now. UCAS is done and dusted and I been offered at Roehampton University to study film in September. It's about the only thing I'm looking forward to and getting excited about. I'm wishing my summer away as some may say and so they should say because summer time is supposed to be fun and entertaining... etc... But I find it more of a purgatory for the living.
Everyone gets so excited when the summer comes around. They begin to plan their amazing summer of fun before work/college/school/life kick starts again on the 1st of September. Camping trips, house parties, road trips, the beach, festivals, chilling in the park... Wicked! 2/3 months of nothing but chilled out amusement.
No. I've been on my summer holiday now for, about a month i'd say and about 2% of it has been entertaining. People seem to get a bit carried away with it all... Whenever you feel up for doing something, no one is around - no one is doing anything or they're all of doing it. Thank you for the invite 'friends.' But don't worry though, when it's all been done; The BBQ, the beach trip or the night out, the photo's will be on Facebook under the title: "Look What We Did Without You Because We Don't Like You/Can't Be Bothered With You Or Assumed You Were Already Doing Something." So I can now sit back in my desk chair and pretend I was there, fantastic.
I have, however, purchased a ticket for the Latitude festival later in July so I can at least do something durring my time waiting for the real excitment to happen in September. In the mean time, I might throw a house party at mine. I'll have lots of drinks, a BBQ and a good sound system for the music. It'll be invite only too, and the only invite will be given to me. That way, I can have a wicked time - without the pathetic imature drinking antics: "Ah ma God! Ama soooo dru-unka!" Oh fuck off, you twat! Was that your first pint was it? Mummy let you out to play now has she? It would be without the debilitating drama, the bitching and the stale two-faces. Lovely.
I'll make sure I've charged my camera battery and the pictures will be on Facebook the next evening then you, delightful reader, can experience the beguiling entertainment. Looking at them through your computer screen... It'll be just like being there in person!
Roll on the good times...
Back to the beginning... Summer is here, my second and final year of college is over and done with now. UCAS is done and dusted and I been offered at Roehampton University to study film in September. It's about the only thing I'm looking forward to and getting excited about. I'm wishing my summer away as some may say and so they should say because summer time is supposed to be fun and entertaining... etc... But I find it more of a purgatory for the living.
Everyone gets so excited when the summer comes around. They begin to plan their amazing summer of fun before work/college/school/life kick starts again on the 1st of September. Camping trips, house parties, road trips, the beach, festivals, chilling in the park... Wicked! 2/3 months of nothing but chilled out amusement.
No. I've been on my summer holiday now for, about a month i'd say and about 2% of it has been entertaining. People seem to get a bit carried away with it all... Whenever you feel up for doing something, no one is around - no one is doing anything or they're all of doing it. Thank you for the invite 'friends.' But don't worry though, when it's all been done; The BBQ, the beach trip or the night out, the photo's will be on Facebook under the title: "Look What We Did Without You Because We Don't Like You/Can't Be Bothered With You Or Assumed You Were Already Doing Something." So I can now sit back in my desk chair and pretend I was there, fantastic.
I have, however, purchased a ticket for the Latitude festival later in July so I can at least do something durring my time waiting for the real excitment to happen in September. In the mean time, I might throw a house party at mine. I'll have lots of drinks, a BBQ and a good sound system for the music. It'll be invite only too, and the only invite will be given to me. That way, I can have a wicked time - without the pathetic imature drinking antics: "Ah ma God! Ama soooo dru-unka!" Oh fuck off, you twat! Was that your first pint was it? Mummy let you out to play now has she? It would be without the debilitating drama, the bitching and the stale two-faces. Lovely.
I'll make sure I've charged my camera battery and the pictures will be on Facebook the next evening then you, delightful reader, can experience the beguiling entertainment. Looking at them through your computer screen... It'll be just like being there in person!
Roll on the good times...
Thursday, 7 May 2009
More Rubbish
It's been a little while since i've last posted on this blog. Many reasons... College work, having a social life and also because, quite frankly, i haven't been arsed. So now i'm back on, continuing my writting - mainly because it's part of an assignment for college which is due in soon.
The next part of this blog is to find a topic to waffle on about. Blogs are horrible because their main purpose is to be self-analytical or critical whilst at the same time reaching to a wide and varied audience. After literally minutes of thought, I've come to realise that you're more likely to crack Fermat's Last Theorem whilst necking handfulls of Ketamine than reach blog Valhalla.
Now that short paragraph is not mine, it was written by my friend Ed. However, that is exactly how I feel about writting this blog. Whether to talk about the ridiculas world wide panic of Swine flu or the pathetic headlines the Sun have come up with today - "Maddie: Hunt for Scarface." No, because I could litteraly go on for days. I don't want to waste my time on that shit, besides it's written by 16 year olds, for 14 year olds.
Enough's enough. When i find something worth-while for you people to read I shall write it and then waste your time whilst you read it.
Go away.
The next part of this blog is to find a topic to waffle on about. Blogs are horrible because their main purpose is to be self-analytical or critical whilst at the same time reaching to a wide and varied audience. After literally minutes of thought, I've come to realise that you're more likely to crack Fermat's Last Theorem whilst necking handfulls of Ketamine than reach blog Valhalla.
Now that short paragraph is not mine, it was written by my friend Ed. However, that is exactly how I feel about writting this blog. Whether to talk about the ridiculas world wide panic of Swine flu or the pathetic headlines the Sun have come up with today - "Maddie: Hunt for Scarface." No, because I could litteraly go on for days. I don't want to waste my time on that shit, besides it's written by 16 year olds, for 14 year olds.
Enough's enough. When i find something worth-while for you people to read I shall write it and then waste your time whilst you read it.
Go away.
Friday, 30 January 2009
It's All Down Hill From Here.
Today is the 30th of January, and in case you were not aware, the 30th of January is my birthday. I'm now 18 which, according to the law, makes me an adult. I can do smoke legally, drink alcohol legally, vote, watch certificated material... Well, you get the idea.
I received a card in the mail this morning from the House of Lords. Looking at the envelope i felt a certain feeling of dread fall over me. I rattled my brain for things that i may have done wrong... or right. (I'm saying 'right' because i was told i was too pessimistic... Oh really.) So, anyway, I opened the envelope and a card with the London sky line was printed on the front. Flipping the card open it was a birthday card from the MP of Suffolk congratulating me on my 18th year of living.
A nice thought really. I opened up the rest of my birthday cards all with greetings on the front such as: 'Have a brilliant day!' and 'Wishing you a happy birthday!' But it made me think. Why on earth would you put 'congratulations' on a birthday card? Since when has it become an achievement to reach a certain age in life. It made me wonder if he knows something about me i don't. Like if i have Aids or something. "Congratulation on your 18th birthday, you've survived for this long!" Bastard.
Anyway. I was also asked if it feels any different being 18. What do you think? No. I feel just like i felt 12 hours ago. Do you really think i would have changed into a brand new person within an hours change. No, so stop being so idiot you pea headed wanker.
Happy Birthday to me.
I received a card in the mail this morning from the House of Lords. Looking at the envelope i felt a certain feeling of dread fall over me. I rattled my brain for things that i may have done wrong... or right. (I'm saying 'right' because i was told i was too pessimistic... Oh really.) So, anyway, I opened the envelope and a card with the London sky line was printed on the front. Flipping the card open it was a birthday card from the MP of Suffolk congratulating me on my 18th year of living.
A nice thought really. I opened up the rest of my birthday cards all with greetings on the front such as: 'Have a brilliant day!' and 'Wishing you a happy birthday!' But it made me think. Why on earth would you put 'congratulations' on a birthday card? Since when has it become an achievement to reach a certain age in life. It made me wonder if he knows something about me i don't. Like if i have Aids or something. "Congratulation on your 18th birthday, you've survived for this long!" Bastard.
Anyway. I was also asked if it feels any different being 18. What do you think? No. I feel just like i felt 12 hours ago. Do you really think i would have changed into a brand new person within an hours change. No, so stop being so idiot you pea headed wanker.
Happy Birthday to me.
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