Unreal-time

No-one's ever accused me of being lazy, complacent, unadventurous, male, human or Paul before. So here's a new blog experiment.

I'll keep this window open all day, and periodically update it, based on the events of the day.

If you know me (and if you don't know me, why are you reading this?), you'll know that there are generally no interesting events in my average day. But who knows? This could be the day that I finally get involved in a drug deal gone wrong, or the day I finally discover the true meaning of my various tattoos.

***
13:57

I started writing this. Actually, it may have been 13:56. But it was definitely 13:57 when I started writing "13:57". (It's now 13:58)

Lucy is making tea, and we're waiting for our groceries to be delivered. From Tesco. Because we are like royalty.

My feet are bare. At some stage, I'll need to put on socks and shoes to greet the Tesco man (or woman). I suspect, I might cut out the middle man and go straight for the shoes. Sockless shoes are no fun, but it will only be for a short time.

I could put on socks, I suppose. But I'm too busy writing letters and numbers on a computer. This computer. These letters. Th3s3 numb3rs.

See? I knew this would be interesting.

The shopping arrives sometime between 14:00 and 16:00. At least, it should. So this is a limbo time. Can we commit to a cup of tea? A new activity? A substanceless blog entry?

Or will it be interrupted by a woman (or man) bringing an array of foods and drinks and household items?

We just don't know.

But, in a way, isn't life like this? We know we could die at any moment. Is there any point in committing to a house, or a job, or a relationship, when it could be taken from you at any minute?

Yes. Of course there is. This is the only opportunity we have.

That's why Lucy made tea. And why I'm writing this.

Because we're all going to die.

***

15:03

A flurry of activity.

I tuned into 6Music to hear Colin and Ed from Radiohead talking about my friend Jon's documentary on the Oxford music scene: Anyone Can Play Guitar. (You can probably listen again at some point here) Very exciting.

But then the Tesco man (or woman) arrived! I'm pretty sure it was a man. I didn't do an anatomical check, but he (or she) certainly seemed quite masculine. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that it was a man. Or woman. Or a transgendered person. But they were certainly human.

Or an android.

Or a ghost.

So we brought the shopping upstairs (because we are like royalty, but aren't royalty) and listened to the rest of the radio item.

I don't know if that really constitutes a flurry, but it has been the most dramatic part of my day.

I've just downed an Innocent smoothie. Though from their website, it seems that they're not capitalised. It's an innocent smoothie. Which seems to be an attempt to ascribe a concept to a drink.

I can't decide whether I'm annoyed by the friendly, matey, wacky approach taken by the innocent people (damn lower-case I). Sometime it seems like cynical anti-cynicism. But on the other hand, I suppose I should admire them for trying something different.

Luckily I'm not forced to choose a side in the innocent/Guilty marketing debate. It's not my job.

***

15:25

I'm thinking of adding an FAQ section to this blog. Unfortunately, nobody ever asks me any questions, let alone frequent ones.

Perhaps a NAQ section would be more apropos.

NAQ (Never Asked Questions)

Q: Whench?

A: I'm... I'm sorry, what?

Q: What gives you the right to tell me how to live my life?!

A: I am you.

Q: How long have you been?

A: It varies, based on a number of atmospheric and temporal conditions.

Q: Have you ever considered turning your blog into a feature film?

A: No. ... Wait... yes. Now I have.

Q: What advice would you give to someone thinking of starting a blog?

A: Remember: you're mainly writing for other people. Don't write about what you want to write about. Write about what you imagine other people might want to read about.

People like hearing about what it's like to be a prostitute. They also like reading about minor continuity errors in films. Mainly, they like reading fictional Q&As; the essence of solipsism.

Remain false to yourself - and always try to be something you're not. Unless you're a prostitute.

Q: How can I get my hands on some Headscissors merchandise?

A: Whilst none is officially available at the moment, you could always put some scissors on your head. This will cost you £10, payable to me via PayPal.

Q: How many of these are you going to do?

A: Seven.

***

16:33

I've done some reading.

Short of copying down all the text I've read, there's not much else I write about. You'll get a full rundown in the next instalment of my Idiot Flaps Odyssey.

But I am on my computer, and to create a sense of continuity, I need to keep these updates frequent.

I've removed my shoes again, you'll be interested to know. If you're a cobbler or a foot-fetishist.

I don't really understand the foot fetish. But I suppose that's why it's a fetish. If everyone understood it, it would just be normal.

I wonder if anyone has other specific body fetishes. Like for forearms. Or the collarbone. A Google search would settle the question, but I'm not really prepared for such an ordeal at this stage of the afternoon.

***

16:50

I just tweeted this:

It's dark. Darker than it should be. I'm not wearing sunglasses. I'm not a depressive soothsayer. I'm not in a box. Something is awry.

I don't think I can engage in blog/Twitter cross-pollination. Perhaps this blog experiment is doomed to failure. There's already a site set up for micro-blogging. It's even called that.

On the other hand, I don't have room for lengthy disclaimers on Twitter, so perhaps there's something to be said for this arena of expression.

Also, I can embed lots of pictures here. Technically, you can do that with TwitPic too, but... hmm... still...

Look at this random assortment if pictures from the Pictures folder of my computer:


Genichiro Tenryu punching Kenta Kobashi in the face


A beardless me looking forlorn



A photo of a cathedral I've never been to


A cool Astro City drawing (probably done by Brent Anderson)



Lucy in the snow (sans diamonds)


Could I have done that on Twitter?

WORTH.

WHILE.

***

18:47

It's grey out there.

To compensate, Lucy and I have had tea and watched The Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

It's a superhero cartoon. I don't imagine it would be enjoyed by people who don't like superheroes, but it's probably my favourite television programme of the moment. There are lots of good action sequences and character bickering.

And it has a theme song that's both absolutely awful and quite good, depending on the mood you're in.



The top comment on the Youtube page is from eloquent orator TheRagster12, who says:

AVENGERS AINT FOR LITTLE KIDS OK IT FOR ALL AGES THIS GOES TO THE PEOPLE WHO THINK THIS IS FOR BABIES noobz

Fifty-seven people have 'liked' this comment.

I think he makes a very convincing argument. If someone as sophisticated as him (or her - but let's face it: HIM) watches the show, it must be for adults. It's the modern equivalent of an endorsement from Oscar Wilde.

***

19:23

There's a terribly addictive new site that I was linked to on Twitter. It uses your previous Tweets to randomly generate your next one. Some of the results are like twisted poetry.

For example:

Look, I'm not doing those ants... We've just eaten a cape, fastened with symbolism.

There's a Rubik's Cube up on our kitchen, but enjoyable. Except for LOSERS.

I'm not an anti-climax, wait until somebody laughs. I'm wearing Paul Fung pyjamas.

Three-day weekend. It was so sad when Bruce Forsyth went blind. He WISHES he was intentionally putting!

Today I am terrified of magic hats. Today has been a glib Whoopi Goldberg.

I got Medusa's snakes and regret writing UP YOURS HELICOPTER MAN in milk.

---

I have to stop doing this now. It's making me unable to construct genuine sentences. When I next post a compendium of tweets, you may recognise some of this content.

***

19:39

Right, this has become too long. I think this experiment has been a qualified success.

I might do some more later, or I might cut my losses. I could cut them into 'los' and 'ses'. Los ses. Which is Spanish for 'The Ses'.

This entry has been like the worst series of 24 ever recorded.