06/01 Direct Link
They said I shouldn't carry on.

They said I was losing my touch, becoming boring.


Yes, they laugh, laugh at me, at me fled to the drear empty notebook, to write poems in, for them!!

- I am here...


I have new ideas. Better ideas. Funny ideas.

Those who ridiculed me will RUE THE DAY THEY WERE BORN!!!!

They will get no sympathy, as I recieved none. They will SUFFER and BURN in the ETERNAL FIRES OF HELL!!!!!

They will sahfuoa... uifdsf, g33333, djisoadf njifodf. Floooooooooooooooop. Flubba hbba. BGUGUDISGIOA!!!!!!
06/02 Direct Link
Every month, I write one entry which I feel has the ability to be published on the front page. One which is not too long, too strange or too sarcastic. One where I reveal a tantalising titbit of my life where I open the cat flap to my soul. I'm sure I can't be the only one who does this. Everyone wants to be read, otherwise they wouldn't bother with this site. People want to know that others care about their words. As for myself, I'm just so neurotic that I want to be read in order to feel important...
06/03 Direct Link
The pianist

Whilst the screaming Diva
Bathes in the attention
And adoration
That she recieves from her fans

Whilst she lives it up
Excesses too much
Throws it up
To general applause

Whilst the over-enthusiastic
Television host
Praises and lauds
Her newly released piece
Of mathmatical, formulaic
Machine made music

Whilst people sit back
Kick back
Relax to the sound
Of a cloned voice

Whilst she keeps turning
The centre of everything
Her sparkling gravity
Pulling in the unsuspecting

Whilst all this is happening...

In a back street...

In a back room...

Of a back bar...

The pianist, who played
The pianist, who wrote
The pianist, who lived

Dies, whilst drowning in the music
06/04 Direct Link
I think I fell even more in love.

Same person. You know, the pretty, smart, funny, wonderful company, imaginative, kind, delicate, determined, charming, encaptivating, enchanting and completely, completely untouchable and unobtainable one. (Should this appear new to you, read last month's batch)

Or am I in love? Is it simply that I desire that which I cannot have? Am I like a small child, silently screaming when I see another with a toy? And should I obtain her, would I tire of her company and throw her away, a lifeless rag doll.


I think not.
06/05 Direct Link
'Right, you know that girl you just can't stop thinking about?'

sigh 'How could I forget?'

'Well, I'm going to help.'

'Thank you.'

'Think of her, right now.'


'Are you?'



'What was that for?'

'Pain association therapy.' slap  

'Stop it!'

'No! It's for your own good.' slap


'Ghhh...What was that for?'

'You wouldn't stop slapping me!'

'Well, I don't have an obsession with a girl who is completely untouchable, which consumes my entire life.'

'Neither do I!'


'Neither do I. We started going out.'


'Two years ago.'


'Do you never listen to what I say?'

06/06 Direct Link
Old eyes looking at old faces and seeing new things.

Feeling new things.

A new feeling of the oldest emotion. A forbidden fruit, ripe red, resting, just above my reach. 

Some call it a madness. Others a falacy.

And, I ask, what do you make of it?

Would you quote lyrics? Turn to the Bible? The dictionary?

Would you try to intellectualise?

Love. Has been present from the beginning of time. And all my love is mine. Unable to share. Trapped. A wild animal, bursting against the bars.

To no avail. No avail.

I love you. On my own.
06/07 Direct Link
Yesterday, I was sitting down, watching TV, when I suddenly had a succession of thoughts.

I am wasting my life. Really, I'm wasting my life. I'm sitting here, watching the sand slither past my eyes, and I don't even care. I've never been to India. Why haven't I been to India? I need to get out and experiance life! Why am I wasting time? And why am I afraid of females? This fear has stopped me ever kissing a girl. It's even stopped my holding hands with one! Why am I wasting my life!

Why am I wasting my life?
06/08 Direct Link
He had always liked the rain. It made him feel that the world was being baptised.

He was walking through it now. One might wonder why he refused to put his coat on. Maybe he too wanted his sins to be washed away. It could be that he was desperate to know that he could still feel something, even if it was just the tiny tatoo of well travelled water.

He breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh smell of rain. Pushing back his shoulders, he moved through the never-ending barrier. Drenched.

With a subtly small smile on his face.
06/09 Direct Link
'Well, thank you very much.'

'What've I done?'

'Every time I look at my girlfriend, I get a headache.'


'It's even worse when we hold hands.'

'...In my defence, I had no idea that pain association therapy actually worked. I thought it was just a, you know, comic device.'


'I'm sure one day we'll look back on this and laugh. Ha...ha'


'Ouch...what was that for?'

'Time for you to get some pain association.'

slap slap


slap slap slap

'What am I even meant to be associating this pain with anyway?'

slap slap slap slap slap


slap slap slap
06/10 Direct Link

Good afternoon, aethists. I am your God.

Yes, that is correct. I am the God of atheists. Ironic, isn't it?

You see, people believe so feverantly that there is no God, that I was created in order to channel that belief. My purpose, as it were, is to not believe in all the other conventional Gods. 

Please do keep up, it's not that confusing.

My only purpose is to not believe. Which is rather easy, I must say. No divine manifistations, no miracles, no commandments. I'm an easy God to really believe not to believe in. 

06/11 Direct Link
At the moment, I reading the book 'Death at intervals.' From new years day, nobody dies, and it describes the consequences of having millions of people unable to die, but unable to live.

It's rather interesting.

After a while, death comes back. The only change is that now, she gives you a voilet coloured letter a week before your death.

However, one of these letters is returned to her. Returned to her, inadvertantly, by a chellist who lives alone with his dog.

...I don't know why I'm telling you this. I've lost my direction.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.
06/12 Direct Link
I feel rather sad.

AWWWHHHHHHAAA! I here you cry, sarcastically.

Today, I think I finally realised that I am growing up. It will not be long now until I am no longer allowed to find bogies funny. Soon, I will leave home, pay taxes, get into debt.

Worse of all, I will start having to care.

I don't want things to change. I want to freeze this moment in time forever, relive these days over and over again.

...If you see a lanky boy with a false smile walking down the street, give him a hug. It might be me.
06/13 Direct Link
'Well, thank you very much.'

'Why are you wearing dark glasses?'

'Well, you know you tried pain association on me?'


'It worked.'

'...How well?'

'Every time I see something, I get painful shocks.'

'What do you mean, something?'

'Every time I see anything. Anything at all. May I say congradulations. You have managed to make me associate pain with absolutely anything.'


'Anything. Apart from utter darkness.'

'...I'm so sorry.'

'So now I have to walk around like a blind person.'


'Never again will I see the sky.'


'Or the sea.'


'Or a beautiful woman.'
06/14 Direct Link
When I was playing in a very small concert (or, as we musicians call it, a 'gig') there was a very young girl on the dancefloor, all by herself.

She was looking at me. I waved at her. She smiled warmly and waved back.

It did not take long for her mother to gently but firmly grasp her hand and force her from the floor.

I find it sad that, in today's society, you are considered a paedophlie for waving at children.

When I have kids, they can wave back at whoever they feel like, and I will not interfere.
06/15 Direct Link
'What's that playing?'

'I...I think it's...yes, it's the blue danube.'

'Oh, the waltz by Strauss.'


'It's really beautiful.'


'I love waltzing. I've always had this dream of gliding round the dancefloor, holding on to my one-true-love, as we danced a waltz.'

'...Well, why not do it now?'

'What, here? In public?'


''s embarassing.'

'If you can't waltz in public, life is not worth living. Fact.'

'Is it?'



'Will you dance with me, my fair lady?'

'Well, you're not my one-true-love...'


'But you could be.'

Oom cha cha
06/16 Direct Link
Maybe he had had one to many solos taken away from him.

Maybe he had been told once two often that he was playing it wrong.

Maybe he had had enough of all the laughing behind his back.

Slowly, achingly, he opened his saxophone case. Taking it by the body, he felt the cool metal calming his skin. He closed his eyes. Sighed. Smashed the saxophone against the wall, again, again, again, it was screaming out in pain, he didn't care, he couldn't care, just shut his ears to the piercing music, no more sound, no more pain.

No more.
06/17 Direct Link
Phrases that immediately bring a sense of dread and pure terror

-Amateur dramatics

-You know, Hitler had a point...

-Junior strings

-You know, Stalin had a point...

-Did you actually read the small print?

-You know, Mussolini had a point...

-Don't worry, I know what I'm doing

-Boris Johnson

-Communism is not that bad, really

-It's perfectly safe

-You are just like your mother/father

-We need to talk...

-It's not that I don't like you, it's just...

-You need to give a public speech

-Only you can save mankind

-What's the point in washing?

-Could you help me, please?
06/18 Direct Link

George was a master story-teller.

Whenever he was asked an awkward question, he would smile an awkward smile, laugh an awkward laugh, and then launch into a story so compelling that his inquisitors forgot about their questioning.
Questioner: 'So, George, who do you fancy?'

George: Smile and laugh 'Don't know. But fancy's a strange word, isn't it? It was invented by a Russian who married his dog and kept a women in a kennel. Did I tell you about him?'

Eventually, it came to the point where people would ask George awkwards questions just to hear his stories. 

06/19 Direct Link
I find it strange how people can become consumed by one thing.

Yesterday, England drew with Algeria in football. The England players were booed off the pitch for their poor display.

Quite frankly, I couldn't care less. 

I don't care about football, or sport in general. There isn't much I really have a passion for, something which I would willingly give my life. I do love music, writing and you, but apart from that, nothing really.

Am I the only one like this? If you too care about little, please, write a batch to let me know you exist.
06/20 Direct Link
Adult situations involving cartoon characters

1. 'Aahh, what's up doc?'

'Mr Bunny. You have clamidia.'

2. 'Hey Scoob, what's up man?'

'Raggy? What rave you been on?'

'Well, you know Scoob, weed does have a certain appeal. And, it gives you a serious attack of the munchies.'

'Oh Raggy, rou promised rou would go to rehab.'

3. 'Hey, Minnie, I'm home!'

'Oh, Mickey, I didn't expect you home so early...'

'...What's Donald doing here?'

'Mickey, I can explain.'

'I'm sure you can!'

'Quack, quack.'

'You stay out of this, adulterer!'


Looking back on this, what I've just written is really sadistic.
06/21 Direct Link
There's something about drums. The primeval-ness of the syncopation, cross-rhythms and unpitched simplicity. The sheer joy that can be extracted from hitting a drum.

It's a pulse that starts at your feet and pulls its way to your skull. Something which will never die, never fade out. The percussion beats in time to the universe, to the pull of every ocean, the vibration of every atom.

Some whine that drums are easy. As if this is a negative thing. These people of ten forget that simplicity is beautiful.

Speaking of beautful, there's a reason why angles play the harp.
06/22 Direct Link
To Annibell

I did read your entry, using the new 'Advent' feature. What a wonderful tool it is. (I'm just trying to curry favour...)

I have a feeling that, if you ever did meet me, you would be sorely disappointed. I often have that effect on people.

Thank you for your kind words. They really did mean a lot to me. I often write fantasy, but this is actually true. Actually really actually.

I love Terry Pratchet also, should we ever meet, we'll jam on the saxophone together and I took German GCSE.

...My goodness, we're made for each other. 
06/23 Direct Link
Yesterday, I was walking along, when I noticed an exceedingly handsome man. The sort of person who radiates good-looks. Against all my normal instincts, I went up to talk to him.


'What's up, ugly?'

This was not a response I was used to.

'Erm...what's your name?'

'I'm you.'

At this point, I started to remember why I didn't talk to strangers.


'I'm you. Well, I'm what you desperately want to be.'

I admit, he did look like the sort of man that, if I had a wish, I would wish myself in to.

'But your horrible.'
06/24 Direct Link
Another man came along.

'Ah, you see, he is the sort of person you want to look like. I am the sort of person you would like to be like. Peronality wise.'

And yet another entered our group.

'I'm the one with the intellect you want.'

And yet more and more flooded into the scene.

'I'm the confidence you would like.'

'I'm the witty comebacks you wish you could say.'

'I'm the one who is good with girls.'

All I could do was stand in silence, watching the people who I wanted to be ridicule the person who I was.
06/25 Direct Link
I must say, it's more than a little strange to have a girl who knows who I am, has seen me, and yet, I know nothing about.

This sort of thing does not happen to me. Ever.

My life is mundane, a film stuck on loop. Nothing out of place happens. It is safe and secure and horribly horribly dull.

Of course, I'm making too big a deal out of this. Of course I am. I must be. Surely.


I hope the exams went well.

Oh, and, feel free to call me David. It is my name after all.
06/26 Direct Link
He would steal kisses.

Not in that way. There was no romance in the way he stole these particular kisses.

He would wait behind a bush in the park. As soon as a couple came along, he would become instantly alert.

He would wait in silence whilst they sat on the bench. He would do nothing whilst they shuffled towards one another. Still he would sit, even when they stared into each other's eyes and moved their heads closer...closer...

Just as the lips were about to meet, he would push you out the way and steal the kiss.
06/27 Direct Link
Hey Annibell.

I have the opposite problem. I can never seem to get started...

I guess I'm just lazy.

I won't make too big a deal of it. Sometimes, I like to be overly dramatic in order to increase my sense of self-importance. It is a personality trait I'm trying to get rid of.

I have very much enjoyed talking to you. If you want to carry on our written conversation, feel free. If you want to talk to me face to face, feel free. If you want to stop, I will be sad, but feel free.

See ya.
06/28 Direct Link
Watch this small man.

A tiny man, slouching along the road. You can tell he has no ambition. No dreams. No imagination.

You start to think whether he has any emotions. You come to the conclusion that this is unlikely.

Which shows how stupid it is to judge.

You don't know his burning desire that fumes and pulses in his chest. His desire to scream at the world, at humanity. To let the fire burn down everyone in his path. This over-trodden man wants to feel flames on his hands and sulphur on his breath.

He wants to scream.
06/29 Direct Link
I'm gald you want to carry on. It doesn't sound lame at all. Talking to people and sharing experiences, even through this convoluted means, is a wonderful thing to do.

Thanks for the advice. I'll try my best to follow it.

If you do shout at me in the corridor, I will shout back 'Hey Annibell. Wie bist du?'

I assume you are on work experience. I hope you enjoy what you are doing.

Now, my German is rusty, but I think this should be correct...

Auf wiedersehen, meinen freundin. Bis zum nachsten Mal.

I look forward to it. 
06/30 Direct Link
They both sit on a bench, one wearing dark glasses, the other unable to be in the vicinity of his love.

'There must be something we can do.'

'Like what?'

'I don't know. You're the smart one.'

'I thought you were the smart one?'

'...Who cares?'


'...I have an idea.'

'Go on.'

'Think about your girlfriend.'

'But it hurts to.'

'Just do it.'



'Any better?'

'Actually...yeh, much better.'


'Right, your turn. Take off your dark glasses.'

'Ok. Ready.'


'Hey, it really does work!'


Today, they learnt a valuable lesson. Not sure what, though.