ACTIONS AND CONSEQUENCES.or the story of Joe and the things that happened to him recently.

In which our hero faces trials beyond the ken of mortal man, and interesting interludes are engineered.

A time of questions indeed.

like;

Uh oh, have I broken it properly this time?

Where am I?

How much is the houmous?

To which some answers where given....and some where not...


'Yes' replied Daryl in his shockingly un-British Kiwi accent, disturbing the fresh faced and sober uber-youth sitting next to us.
'Verily, you have broken it, thrice bent is broken indeed. For it is a thing of wide repute that when our fellowship is formed, the sundering of intelligent thought, nay, our very ability to self perambulate is compomised. To the extent that, by definition, we are indeed' and here the rascal pauses, leaning forwards like a wizened creature from the pits of hell, his foul breath stealing oxygen from the vicinity, extinguishing the guttering candle and plunging us into a gloom so depressing and macabre that the world becomes instantly sinister,
' we are indeed' he repeats gleefully'Broken'.

I take a moment to absorb his prognosis. I look around the bar, hoping to glimpse something familiar, a face perhaps. It all looks threatening, like being trapped inside a Munch painting described by Hunter S Thompson on a bad come-down. There is no immediate threat. No-one is calling the police. No-one is trying to sell me to anyone else. No-one is interested. I think we are safe. For now.
So. What's next.
'Where are we?' I manage to say, barely articulating in my fear of drawing attention to myself.
Daryl looks at me over his Vodka tonic, tipping it towards me in a sardonic salute and leaning back in his chair, suddenly nonchalant.
'We' he says, beginning to smile 'are at Zebranos'.
'Is that good?'
I fiddle with my pint, swilling the dregs around hopefully.
'shall we say it is not bad?' he replies as he downs his drink.
I glance up once more, around the bar, out the window, back to Daryl who raises an eyebrow in question.
I take a deep breath.
It's ok.
It's going to be ok.
I'm ok.
I straighten my shirt, look up, and smile.
'so, my round then?'

And that was just the beginning of the night. Christ.

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

I actually left Daryl at this point and went on to the national Breakbeat awards at Fabric with Jen, Silk and Lou. This didn't actually help too much as we managed to meet up after a welcome hedonistic boogie and carried on till the wee small hours. Shocking.
Much fun was had by all.

I never did find out how much the houmous was.

Things I like today

geiger counters
marsupials
Ableton live V.5.0.1
8hr shifts
my brother in law the dead good sk8ter
beautifulagony.com
Maia Isobel Ashlea Duirwyn
chocolate and lemon-curd pie

Word of the day

SESQUIPEDALIAN

'Relating to a long word; characterised by using long words.'

Brilliant eh?

We owe this word to the Roman writer Horace, who wrote in his Ars Poetica (The Art of Poetry): “Proicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba” (“He throws aside his paint pots and his words that are a foot and a half long”). It comes from Latin sesqui–, one and a half, plus ped, a foot. It was borrowed into English in the seventeenth century and has become a favourite of those writers who like self-referential terms, or are addicted to polysyllabic humour.

Somebody who uses long words is a sesquipedalianist, and this style of writing is sesquipedalianism. The noun sesquipedality means “lengthiness”. If such words are not enough, there’s always hyperpolysyllabicsesquipedalianist for someone who enjoys using really long words.

Go here if you liking it is.

Pic of the Day

That's my brother in law. He so cool.
I have jealousy inside me.

The Cock list

Getting Drunk and 'helping' the support band for James Blunt. and not remembering very much at all about it.