05/01 Direct Link
And here we are at the start of another month. Another chance to show the world just how strange you can be.

I'm becoming scared about a lot of things. Ending up alone is quite near the top of the list. But the thing most worrying to me it this.

Are my batches starting to get boring?
Does anybody actually read them?

I suppose if I keep on talking about my stupid fears, these batches will end up being dull.

I'm also scared that I'm running out of good ideas.


One day, I decided to go on a journey...  
05/02 Direct Link
2nd of May, 2010

A breakthrough! An utterly wonderful breakthrough!

Whilst trying to discover why we only use a small proportion of our brains, I came across the idea of 're-wiring' a brain. Changing the neurone paths in order to reach outlying reigions of the brain which we cannot normally access.

I tried this with a mouse, and my first attempt caused it to go insane.

However, I tried again and again, and I have finally done it!

This mouse has greatly improved brain function, can solve difficult puzzles and remembers pi to 267 decimal places.

I am a genius.
05/03 Direct Link
I have fallen in love with someone.

She is pretty, smart, funny, wonderful company, imaginative, kind, delicate, determined, charming, encaptivating, enchanting and completely, completely untouchable and unobtainable.


Well, that's enough seriousness. Time for some strange, rambling and incomprehensible musings.


What would happen if you gave Mikey Mouse helium? I mean, his voice is already high. Would his vocal range reach ultrasonic heights? If this ever happens, you have to feel sorry for Pluto. The dog, not the planet.

Also, what is Goofy? Is he a dog? A chipmunk? A strange science experiment?

So very many questions, so very few answers.
05/04 Direct Link

'Let's try diging over here.'



'What've we got?'

'Looks like a three.'

'Hmm. So we have a three here, and a two above it, and a two below there anything behind it?'

'Just grey empty space, clear of mines.'

'Right, so that means that...this mine...must go here.'

'Good work.'

'Thank you. Are there any places that we know definately don't contain mines?'


'Right, time to shoot in the dark. Drill...there.'


'Oh no. Oh oh no.'

'What? What's wrong?'


'Pull yourself together! Tell me!.'

'It'''s an.'

'A what?'

'An 8!!!'
05/05 Direct Link
Im going to make my english teacher squerm

Me and my friend's went down to the park. Wed looked up at the cloud's wen i sed

'Why dont we rite this down?'

After a while we read wat we writted to each other. it was fun.

I then went home to my parent's. my parents cat rubbed against my leg. Her name is mrs toppsykins the second. Mrs toppsykins bowl was empty so i fill it up with cat food.

Then i went up too my room to practise using apostraphies'.

I also need to brush up on my spelling.

What fun.
05/06 Direct Link
May 17th - 2010

The mouse has set up a university.

A university.

We don't even know where it got the materials. We left him in his cage, along with several other, non-intelligent mice, over the weekend, and when we got back...well. When we got back, there was a blackboard, chalk, desks, a lecturn and several books.

The intelligent mouse (whom we have decided to call Isaac) seems to be trying to teach the other mice. It is not going well. When he presented them with their textbooks, they immediately started to eat them.

Isaac seemed rather depressed about this.
05/07 Direct Link
To all Americans.

Today, the Great British Public have formally elected a hung parliament. This means that we hate every party, but have to vote for someone.

Now, a coalition government will be formed. Please, Americans, do not be alarmed. We will still carry out your every whim and bow down to your leader. All it will mean is that it takes longer for out politicians to decide to carry out this course of action.

We will still happily invade other countries, if this is what you wish.

I hope this clarification will allow you to rest easier tonight.
05/08 Direct Link
'I have a problem...'


'And I'm afraid to tell you, because you either tell me I'm an idiot or give me a strange answer.'


'But I need to talk to someone, so you'll have to do.'

'...It's nice to feel valued.'

'Anyway. The thing is, I'm in love with one of my friend's girlfriend.'

'I understand.'

'I mean, really in love. What should I do?'



'It seems to me that you're an idiot.'

'...I hate you.'

'I know.'

'So...any advice.'

'Crush the feeling until it no longer exists.'

'I've already tried that. It failed.'

05/09 Direct Link

Names are important.

They define who and what we are. Each name helps to create a personality. We would not call a chair a chair unless is possesed a chair-ish quality.

You know what I mean. I hope.

Our names pin us down. Change the name, and you change the person. A name can inspire us to greatness or force us to failure. But we need this identification. Reduce us to a blank space, or worse, a number, and you reduce us to a group, lacking any individuality.

Without a name, we are, quite literally, no-one and nothing.

05/10 Direct Link
'Hey, stop! Stop!'

'What! What's wrong?'

'Don't you see it?'

'See what?'

'The Line.'

'What line?'

'You know. The Line. The one that people say you must never cross.'

'...You're an idiot. That's just a figure of speech.'

'Yeh? Well, look down at the ground.'

'Fine.' sigh 'Hey...what the...?'

'I told you.'

'But there's...a the ground...a line!'

'The Line.'

'...So...what should we do?'

'Well, everyone says that you shouldn't cross the line.'

'But, then again, everyone are idiots.'


'I think we should step over it.'


I never knew what happened to them
05/11 Direct Link

'Good morning, doctor.'

'Please, lie down on the couch.'

'Thank you.'

'So...what seems to be the problem?'

'Well, I'm an obsessive philanthropist.'

'...I think you mean an obsessive philanderer. Someone who has a compulsion to cheat on their partner.'

'No, I mean obsessive philanthropist. I just can't help giving money away.'


'I mean, yesterday, I set up an academy. A month ago, I built a whole new wing to a hospital, which is now bares my name. I can't afford to go on like this!'

'I'm not really sure I can help...'


'Have you tried drugs?'
05/12 Direct Link
This entry is dedicated to my creative writing class.

I came up with some of my worst ideas during that time. Indeed, it was this class that taught me that I could not write poetry.

However, it did make me start 100 words.

The people in it are amazing. From those obsessed with babies to those who had strange 'feelings', I think that, between us, we cover about every mental illness known to man.

I will miss you all. The discussions, the sarcasm, the laughter, but most of all, the people.

Even if I can't remember all your names.
05/13 Direct Link
I have a rather strange pathological problem.

I'm allergic to beautiful women.

If I ever see an attractive girl, my glands start to swell, my hands sweat, I can't breathe and I end up collapsing on the floor.

For me, the term 'heart-stoppingly beautiful' takes on a whole new significance.

I stay in doors mainly. I can listen to the radio, but can never watch TV. Not even the news. Have you noticed that, according to the news, only beautiful people seem to die?

I always have the curtains drawn, in case a beautiful woman walks past.
05/14 Direct Link
June 2nd - 2010

Isaac (the mouse) has started smoking.

We don't even know where he gets the tobacco. At the moment, we're working on a theory that, when an academic is surrounded by those of an inferior intellect, a cigar spontaneously appears.

Isaac has given up trying to teach the other mice. He now wanders around the cage (on two legs, with his paws behind his back) looking despondantly through the bars. He sighs occasionally.

In the labratory, my friends and I are starting to take bets as to when Isaac will start to write poetry to eleviate his pain. 
05/15 Direct Link

-Why do I have to do this?


-Because what?

-Just because.

-That's a childish answer.

-It's the only correct one.

-Why not somebody else?


-Because what?

-Because there is nobody else.

-What about him?

-There is nobody else.


-There is nobody else.

-Can it not wait?

-Time waits for no-one.

-What does that mean?

-Time waits for no-one.

-Why won't you give me a straight answer?


-Because what?

-Because a straight answer would not fit into your maze-like mind.

-Who are you?

-It does not matter.

-Why doesn't not matter?




05/16 Direct Link
What is reality?

Quite simply, it is perception. What we percieve to be real is, for us, the true reality. I find a painting beautiful, but you find it hideous. We all have our own individual realities, each as real as each other. Confused? You should be. My reality, where the painting is beautiful, exists, as does your reality, where the painting is grotesque. Two contrasting realities, existing side by side, each mutually exclusive, each as real as a brick.

But what do I know? I'm an idiot.

Nevertheless, I assume that this happens because of quantum. Quantum answers everything.
05/17 Direct Link
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
I really do detest revision
05/18 Direct Link
'I've been wondering...'

'I'm sure you have.'

'I've been wondering whether this friendship really works.'

'I'm sure we've already had a discussion like this.'

'Possibly. Jeeze, how utterly dull and unimaginative to you have to be to constantly re-use old material?'

'Yeh, ha ha.

'Ha, ha indeed.'



'It seems that I now have nothing to say.'

'Neither do I, however, I would like to make this point.'

'Which is?'

'...I've completely forgoten.'

'Oh well, at least it took up words...I mean time.'

'That's true.'



'Do you want to go on a trampoline?'

'Why not?'
05/19 Direct Link
When I was about six, the piano tuner came round our house. To tune the piano. Obviously.

It was a warm, bright day, the type of day where the sun simply strokes your skin. My mother was outside, putting the washing on the line. The windows were open, and everything seemed brighter than normal, as if everything emmited its own light. I sat inside, listening to the tuner playing the piano.

It was beautiful. Amazingly beautiful.

I could have just been my imagination, but I felt that the piano was happier. Happy that, for once, it had been played properly.
05/20 Direct Link
June 3rd - 2010

Isaac has, as predicted, started to write poetry.

Anna, one of the laboratory assistants, won the bet. She did not seem best pleased however. One has the feeling that she harbors a soft spot for Isaac, and feels sad that there is so much pain in his life that he has to express it through imaginative literature.

Isaac also keeps a steady interest in mathematics. He has already proved Pythagoras to be correct, and is now working on Fermat's last theorem. We expect him to solve it any time soon.

He's developing very quickly...

05/21 Direct Link
Tired. Dull. Groggy, graggy grey. Slumping, fumble-mucker man, bumbling and beedaling along. Tired. Tired. Tired. Varnished. Uncompleted, overworked machine man. Familiar strokes of the keys. Rolling, tolling, yolling, dolling forever. No sense, makes no sense, has no sense. Little chance, successaphobe, allergenic, opressalenic nonsensicalenic. Tired. Forever. Ghost, stogh, hosgt. Eternal wanderer, always wonderer, never knowinger. What? You don't care. Tired. Dull, llud, ulud. Grooper, half-human flumper. That's right. Flumper. You heard me. Incoherant, yessir, nosir, sitck it. That's right. Stick it. Anywhere. So,so,so,so tired. Nonsense. That's all. I'm just a big, broolling ball of nonsense.
05/22 Direct Link
'...and then she dumped me.'


'Yeh. It was brutal.'

'Ah-well. Worse things happen at sea.'

'...Such as?'

'Such as what?'

'What worse things happen at sea?'


'I mean, how do you know that worse things happen at sea?'


'You haven't even been in a boat.'

'The thing is...'

'You get sea-sick.'

'Look! It's just an expression.'

'Right. So, you are refusing to offer me sympathy during this painful time because of an expression which has no basis on reality.'

'...Some people die at sea.'

'...That's true.'

'Is that worse than being dumped?'

'Suppose so...'
05/23 Direct Link
June 30th - 2010

Isaac is rather lathargic.

He does little, writes less, eats never. He is wasting away. Anaa seems rather upset by this. She took him home one weekend, in an effort to boost his spirits. It failed.

Isaac seems to radiate depression. Should anyone go near him, no matter whatever frame of mind they might previously have entertained, they immediately become depressed. We have started to test whether this phenomenon happens in humans. The results so far look promising.

I digress...

Isaac seems to have lost his flavour for life. One hopes that he will pick himself up soon...
05/24 Direct Link
For once, I am going to write something that is not complete fiction.

I have my first exam tomorrow. English literature. I am not looking forward to it.

A 45 minute essay on 'To kill a mockingbird' and then a 1 hour essay comparing and contrasting four poems. If I am honest, I can think of easier ways to slowly melt my own mind. Like watching TV.

I am scared. Terrified out of my wits.

And, of course, if I fail to do well, the troll under my bed will eat my feet and take my soul back to hell.
05/25 Direct Link

One day, I will look back upon this entry and tell my children that this was when your father managed to build a solid foundation for/ completely and utterly destroy his education.

And then they will stare back at their father in pure admiration/ with utter repulse in their eyes.

And then they will tell their friends how wonderful and smart/ horrible and stupid their father is, and what an inspiration/ disgrace he has become.
And then I will look back at this time in quite reflection, thinking what a hard worker/ constant slacker I was.

One day soon.

05/26 Direct Link
The hubbleflubber flibbers its way down the road. It's scriptulous skin slothers and slavers like the sea. It huffs and fuhhs and floops away, sighing. It's close to dying. Nobody cares about the hubbleflubber. It's existance is meaningless. Kicked and flicked and rocked and socked it is rejected by the humbles and bumbles of humanity. The unkind, never rewind, dredges and smedges of humanity. Hubbleflubber flubbs and hubbles despite this. It must continue. Until the very end. Of everything. Pity the poor, sore, quitement moor hubbleflubber. It has no God or protecter or fairy-faced lover. Not this poor hubbleflubber.
05/27 Direct Link
I was sitting with my parents, having a conversation about 'To kill a mockingbird'. We were talking about finding original interpretations for the book. I had just thought of an idea, and was smiling to myself, when my mother said

'Don't go all weird on us David.'

To which my father replied

'I.e, don't be normal.'


I find it rather depressing that my parents think I am strange.

Anyway, me original idea was that a character's name, Dill, is a perfect anagram of the shop Lidl. He is cheap and tacky, but surprisingly popular.

...Maybe I am slightly strange.
05/28 Direct Link
I have a feeling I know what I am going to be when I am older.

A bundle of wasted potential.

I will look back upon the 'glory days', when I was working hard, stretching my intellect and quietly exploring the future. Most things were possible, and road was open, every possiblity open and free.

Then, it faded. The roads became overgrown with brambles, options were closed, doors slammed in my face. I will be left with nothing, or worse, a mind-numbing existance of mediocraty. Nothing changing, no excitment, no stimulation. A programmed zombie, working without stopping to think.
05/29 Direct Link
August 13th - 2010

Isaac has killed himself.

He did it over the weekend, when there was no-one to watch over him. Created a piece of rope from the fibres in the wood shavings, tied it round his neck, attached it to the top bars of his cage, and jumped of the hampster wheel.

He even wrote a suicide note.

To be or not to be? I have answered that question.

Rather poetic, I thought.

Anna was distraught. She insisted on a proper burial rather than just throwing him in the fire.
My next project will be working on stem cells.
05/30 Direct Link
I met the perfect woman.

She was sitting next to the window in my house. I stared. She was beautiful, not in the obvious, clone, mail order girlfriend sense, but in an understated way. A quite beauty, all the more wonderful for not screaming it out to the world. A piece of living art.

We strolled around the garden, arms around each other, fitting perfectly into place. A strange feeling arose in my chest.

A feeling of contentment. 

Do you know what happened next?

I woke up.
It's times like these that I realise how much I hate reality. 
05/31 Direct Link


'I have something I need to tell you...'


'You won't like it.'

'Then why tell me?'

'It needs to be said.'

'Go on.'

'...Your batches are dull.'


'Completely unimaginative. No new ideas, no witty comments, nothing. Absolutly nothing.'


'Quite frankly, they make me want to microwave my brain.'


'I think you should stop. Give up completely. Refrain from torturing those innocent people who accidentally click on your link and read.'


'I mean, if you stop, you would be doing the whole world a favour.'


'Sorry, but, like I said before, it needed to be said.'