Friday, 1 March 2013

On Liquids

I went to sixth-form college in Eastleigh.

Yesterday's by-election has made me think about the time I spent there, and the people I encountered.

Ha! Not really!

I did go to college in Eastleigh, but know nothing about the place, and only went outside to buy McDonald's coffee and terrible albums on the day of release.

Also, I haven't really been following the by-election news, even though I might well have caught a glimpse of my old stamping grounds on the television. (I didn't have stamping grounds. I barely had feet at the time.)

My only significant memory of being in Eastleigh was a constant feeling of hatred towards immigrants. But that subsided whenever the bus carried me back into the tolerant arms of caring, reasonable, socialist Southampton. My friends and I would show our disdain for the bourgeoisie by going to Sega World and dropping £18 on a session of Time Crisis.


Imagine a mirror world, where males are female, words are backwards, and sheep are threatened by menstruation.

Go on. Imagine it.

Now, have you imagined the punchline? All of the ingredients are there.

It's not really a punchline, so much as a thing that I thought of which made no sense without that build-up.

Are you there yet?

That's right.

The Girl Who Cried Flow

"Flow" is "wolf" backwards. And the word "flow" probably has something to do with periods or whatever. I can't google it, because I'm worried about what I'll find.

There might be a cleverer or more succinct way to do that "joke". Feel free to write your own version. I'll gather together all of the entries, and will compile them into a big ball of screwed up paper.

I'll have to print them out first.


The good thing about writing a blog post in segments is I can use clever sequencing to make up for a deficit in quality. Always start with your strongest segment, then continue with something of real substance. Make sure you end on a high note. You can bury all kinds of shit in the middle.

I haven't sequenced this blog post yet. This section is in third place as I write it, but I might decide to put it first. It seems pretty strong.

Of course, my putting this first might be confusing, given that I'm about to mention the wolf joke and McDonald's coffee. Perhaps I should just leave things as they are.

It would be a shame, though, as the following segment is going to be AMAZING, and would make for a good opening.


Hello. This is the beginning of the blog post.


I came up with an obscene rap in the shower the other day. I won't transcribe it, because it doesn't really work unless it's accompanied by some heavy beats and/or the sound of running water.

I think the time I spend in the shower is the most creative of my day. I don't know what it is about rubbing things into my body and hair that makes me so susceptible to inspiration. It's like a meditative state, I suppose. You don't need to concentrate on lathering yourself, so your brain isn't encumbered by the usual roaring mind traffic.

Thinking and clothes are the biggest impediments to the creation of art.

Our new shower is terrible, though. The brilliant ideas I have - and to give you a sense of scope, my rap rhymed "retention" with "pension" - can't come as thick and fast as I would like (shampoo viscosity). We're hopefully getting our bathroom done at some point. When we have a fully-functional shower, I'll be churning out ideas faster than you can say "Paul - you've been in the shower for nine years. Do you still want this tea?"


They sell sanguinello juice at Waitrose. It's expensive, but it's there. I don't know anywhere else that sells it. But I can't stock up, can I? Even if the juice lasts for a long time. I can't. What would people say if I had a trolley full of sanguinello juice (in bottles)? They'd laugh for sure. They might make a cutting remark.

It would be expensive, not just financially, but in terms of self-esteem. What would people say?

Maybe I could anticipate the remarks by muttering "blood orange, blood orange, blood orange" over and over again. And each time I said "blood", it would be accompanied by my electric LED baseball cap displaying the word "BLOOD".

That might make it better. I would not be mocked. I would be respected.

I really like sanguinello juice. It's much better than water.


I'm dusting my hands to signal that it's all over. I've gone back and carefully sequenced this whole thing. If I could use one word to describe my writing, it would be "honed".

I'm really disgusted with myself.

This whole thing is a disgrace.

I'm angry.

I'm sleepy.

I expected better.

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