!!~~POST #600 - BULGING COMMEMORATIVE SUPERNOVA~~!!

Well, well, well. Who knew? Hoon you?

600 blog posts. One for every letter of the alphabet. 600. More blog posts than there have been Planet of the Apes movies. More blog posts that a penguin has had hot dinners.

It has become a custom round these parts to celebrate each of these milestones with a long blog post, an embarrassing picture, and a spiral of shame.

If you'd like to see my previous anniversary posts, there are links below this very sentence.

Post #100
Post #200
Post #300
Post #400
Post #500

I've re-read these and, boy...

Boy.

Boy, boy, boy.

Boy is a strange word if you write it six times in succession.

I was a boy when I began this blog. I was a boy at 100 posts. I was a boy at 200 posts. At 300 posts, I was a girl. At 400, I was a pteranodon. At 500, I was a boy again.

And at 600, I am a MAN.

A LIAR and a MAN.

I don't know what's going to happen in this celebratory bag of sweet, sweet fun. But I do know this: PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES SHOULDN'T THROW SHOT-PUT PARTIES.

***

I like mixed media. In fact, I might legally change my name to Mick Stmedia. I can claim it's Czech. Too much of one thing is a bad thing (even if the original thing was a good thing), as the old saying goes.

So, let's boogie.

As you can probably tell, I like implying that there is some significance to this "anniversary", when clearly there is not. Even for me, this is of marginal importance. But you know what they say: "Be quiet, Paul".

On the plus side, I like that I look away right at the end of this video. It looks like I've seen a ghost. On Youtube.


***


For the last few of these, I have been conversing with my future self/ve(s). We seem to click. I think it's because we have the same DNA and postcode.

In Post #500, I wrote:

Post #600 Paul - what did you have for dinner last night? Also, do you have a Blu-Ray player yet?

(I'm a brilliant conversationalist - I can't wait to see my response in 100 posts' time)

Well, Paul. Thank you for the compliment. I can tell you that last night we had vegetarian sausage stew. It was delicious. And we do indeed have a Blu-Ray player! It is rather good. A wise purchase.

You're unable to answer me now (as you no longer exist), but I'd very much like to continue this fascinating chat.

Post #700 Paul - what are you wearing? (I don't mean that in a sleazy way) Also, who is the most famous person that has died since I wrote this? (I hope it's not Obama. Or me. Although, it will be nice to be famous.)

***

Mick Stmedia Presents:

ORGAN LE FAY

a play in half-an-act

by

Dimante Bajér

Cast:

Noola Nine - explorer, ex-plorer

Chiff - merchant

Ada Fader - musician

Butler

Peppercorn

ACT 1/2

SCENE 1

A table in a room with all of them people/things what is up there.

NOOLA: It's not easy, you know.

CHIFF: What?

NOOLA: Giving up ploring.

CHIFF: Oh. No. No, I'm sure it must be very difficult.

NOOLA: It is.

CHIFF: When was the last time you plored?

NOOLA: Ages ago. University.

CHIFF: A lot of people start ploring at university. Because you're free of responsibility.

ADA: In ten minutes, we're all going to die. Also, I'm a figment of your imaginations. Also, I'm a cipher, used to explore fundamentalist Islam. Also, this is a play.

NOOLA: I don't believe you. Chiff?

CHIFF: I have mixed feelings. Like sappiness. Or angrenvy.

ENTER BUTLER

The BUTLER enters the room, sees that this isn't going anywhere and leaves.

EXIT BUTLER

ADA: Spirituality. SPIRITUALITY!

PEPPERCORN: This is the kind of thing that should be discouraged. Extracts like this. I mean, what is the author trying to do here?

ADA: Islam?

PEPPERCORN: No. I mean, the blog author. There isn't even anything funny in here. What's this for? The hilarious character names? The unlikeliness of it all? Even this speech is overwritten.

NOOLA: He must be shameless. The blog writer, I mean. Unembarrassable.

PEPPERCORN: He's done a picture of himself, and a weak video. Clearly shame is not on his (or her) agenda.

CHIFF: Let's stop now. 

END SCENE

***

That didn't go as well as I'd planned.

To be honest, I'm struggling to write this. I haven't got any ideas. I don't really want to do it. But I have to. I have to do this anniversary post before I can move on. I could just do a short one, but that would set a dangerous precedent.

Hey! I know! Louie!

We've recently been watching a comedy programme called Louie. It's made by a stand-up comedian called Louis CK, who is reasonably famous. I saw some of his stand-up before and liked it, but wasn't blown away. But this show is really great.

He writes it all himself (uncommon for a US comedy). It's sort of a mix of stand-up, sketch comedy and sitcom, but is always interesting and frequently hilarious. It's also occasionally dark and disturbing.

This is the programme I would like to make. It's ambitious and unique.

This clip might not be funny out of context, but it made me laugh and laugh and laugh when I first saw it:

His stand-up is great on the show too. I think of him as a bit like Daniel Kitson. Neither of them do anything obviously revolutionary, but have a really interesting take on the world. The difference is that Kitson looks at the world and, underneath it all, sees the wonder and beauty of existence. Louis CK looks at the world and sees a fundamental layer of shit.

***

Here are some quick jokes, to fill up the space between two lots of asterisk triplets:

Q: What's red and white and brown all over?
A: A Communist bakery

Q: How many light bulbs does it take to change a nappy?
A: 3. One to illuminate the affected area, one to use its filament as a safety pin, and one to burn away the effluence.

Q: Why did the tomato blush?
A: Because it saw the salad masturbating.

An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman walk in two-by-two. WHAT WAS NOAH THINKING?

Q: What do you call a man with a spade on his cliff?
A: Liam.

Q: What do you get if you cross a tiger with a piece of farming equipment?
A: A combine harvestiger.

Q: What did one cloud say to the other?
A: I've lost my wallet.

***

I'm terrible at talking to people. I had this confirmed recently by a serious of awful conversations. The awfulness was all my fault. Part of it was people sensing my awfulness and feeling uneasy, and part of it was just me being awful.

I stand out like an inarticulate bear with a sore thumb. I try a joke. It fails. (I know it must be difficult to imagine any of my jokes failing)

I try to seem interested. I just seem creepy.

I try to join in a surreal dialogue. People look at me like I've just knitted a scrotum.

There's an awkward aura around me. I can knock things off shelves just by being uncomfortable next to them.

I rarely finish a conversation without wishing I could erase everything I've said. I want to be a mute. But in the moment, it all seems like such a good idea.

"Hey, I know!" I'll think. "Why don't I make a clever remark about Judaism or introduce a hypothetical discussion about which animal we'd most like to squeeze between our thighs?"

And then I say it. And then I wish I hadn't.

I should live in a sound-proof box. My thoughts sound better in my head. As do my songs and my Caribbean accents.

I probably don't need to get any more insular or solipsistic. But to be honest, the damage is already done. I'm 28. It's all downhill from here, on an uncomfortable sledge, in the middle of summer, on a level dirt track.

Only joking!

Life is great. I'm happy to be who, where and if I am.

This blog is a conversation. And I never regret what I've written here! Nope! Not even that play thing up there.

No regrets. They don't work. No regrets. They only hurt.

A wise man once said that. His name was Robbie Williams. And if we can't take heart from his profound words, we might as well give up eating.

***

I'm on fire now! I can't believe I had a lull earlier!

This is the anti-lull. The llul.

Welcome to the llul.

I think I should probably stop now. Always go out on a llul.

At least now people will walk away from this knowing that I'm a man of dignity.

Here's to 600 more posts. 600 better posts than this.