There's something about brownies

I've been thinking a lot about food recently. or rather, food has been on my mind. not in the usual healthy 'mmm, what tasty treat can i eat next' way, but in the more worrying 'i really shouldn't have eaten that whole box of brownie bites' way. which probably means i'm a girl, which isn't appealing at the best of times, especially when you're a girl who looks like me.

Thing is, i'm starting to get a belly, all my life i've been on the underbuilt side of the body bullying fence thanks to a metabolism so fast that it seems to take exactly twelve minutes for any meal to go from plate to poo (a digestive tradition that is strangely still with me despite the obvious expansion of girth at naval height) and obviously now i'm pushing 30 (i am NOT pushing 30 yet, i have 14 months to go, but it has begun to amuse me to say it, probably something of a defence mechanism where by if i say it enough it will stop terrifying me so much that i want to take a plane to my outer skin in a desperate attempt to shave myself back down to reveal the 19 year old inside), i'm fully aware this is the time of life that so many men find there body finally gives up on trying to breakdown the shite they pump into it on a daily basis and screams 'fuck you, you can be fat!'.

A person who makes as many fat jokes per day as i do cannot afford to chunk up.

So what do you do. well first you dispose of the usual weekly diet of 4 chinese meals, 2 lots of fish and chips, and a plate of home cooked fajitas, with sausage butties daily for breakfast and cheese burgers (with spiral fries) for supper. you go to the supermarket and stock up.

you're lazy, so you have to buy things that will take little to no effort to prepare, otherwise shanghai house will be receiving calls again, after a few months of trial and error i settled upon this, each days meal will be based around either - a plate of leaves with french dressing on them, a pre-packed portion of mixed veg, or the right veg to put in either a stir fry or a spag bol. this will be eaten (apart from the spag bol) with some chunk of meat that can be grilled. preferably with a taste on it such as 'chinese pork chops' or 'minted lamp chops' or 'peppered kebab sticks'

so you stock up. sorted.

only it's not is it. you see, i live alone (aww, poor me etc). they don't sell interesting packages of meat in single portions. and it goes off pretty quickly. you can't freeze it because defrosting takes forward planning and you'll never eat any of it because a frozen slab of meat is simply an invitation to call china rose. so you're constantly conscious of the mass of meat that starts rotting from the minute it goes in the fridge and once you've opened a pack of 4 steaks, you have to eat them. so you have 2 with your dinner and then have two as hot sandwhiches for supper. that's 4 steaks, or 4 chops (8 if they are supposed to be served 2 to a portion) every day. before you were just having half a plate of fried rice and then 4oz of reconstituted beef. this can't be right... can it?

on top of that you have to get your 5 a day in. five more things to eat. and only one is allowed to be juice.. apparently 9 glasses of pure pineapple juice (not from concentrate) still only counts as 1 of your 5., so you're not doing yourself any favours, you're just increasing the need to pee too often. and the leaves or whatever you have with you're meat is only 1 more.... 2 if you really push it... but pushing it is what all this was supposed to stop wasn't it.

then of course there's the brownie bites...

screw it, i've got some new trainers and there's a nature reserve just been built 4minutes from my flat, i'll just think about jogging some more...

p.s. there is someone subscribed to my blogs that i've never met, i must be incredible.

Frigeworthy

now it's not usually my way to do the blog about days out and fancy holidays and such. no. i'm far more likely to jot down meandering barely-sensical ramblings about some dream i had or how i was scared by my own reflection and such idiocy. 

but i've just spent 3 days at an event that i now know i will return to every year for the rest of my life so it would seem disrespectful not to at least jot a bit down. i haven't been to everywhere in the world, but i can say as fact that edinburgh (the fringe and a bunch of other stuff) in august is the best event in all existance

i'm biased of course, as many of you i bore in person will know, if you were to for some reason drop the word Edinburgh into a conversation with me, depending on the timing, the end result would fall somewhere between me relentlessly wittering about how spellbinding the place is, and us actually being there 4 hours later. i could talk about how i feel as 'at home' on the royal mile as i do in my own flat, i could talk about how the shock of moving so swiftly between hollyrood park and princes street brings the world into focus and how beautiful it is outside the parliament building at night, and i would definatley talk about the underground vaults and the closes and i would fail miserably to describe how on the coldest nights it can be the warmest place.

first off though, having booked a hotel room late and having to find one a couple of miles outside the city centre, fate decided to do me the favour of putting arthur's seat between me and where all the fun was centered. To me this was brilliant, i got to walk through a national park on my way to town. well, i did have the option of walking round it, which if we're being honest was quicker, but if somebody sticks a massive green valley in front of you.. unless your soul as been eaten by an internal combustion engine, you're gonna fancy trecking through it, even if it does add 20minutes onto the trip.. you've got all your life haven't you.

of course, where there is a valley there is a hill, in this case it's a pretty big one and you get to thinking, bet if i wander up the side a bit there's a pretty decent view, as all you can generally see from the bottom of a valley, is the sides of a valley.. which is nice... but.. y'know. problem is once you've climbed a bit you start looking right up at the top, the peak, it's not really on your was is it.. but you've never climbed to the top before, it's something you should really do at some point

so a bit of a sigh and a deep breath and you start climbing higher and higher.. about half way up you want to sit down... fuck it, lie down, and recover, but there's a couple behind you who seem to be wandering up to the peak as part of a relaxing dinner time stroll, so you'd be embarrased to look like you were struggling. 

three quarters of the way up you are repeating to yourself the phrase 'i'm an idiot i'm an idiot i'm a massive idiot i'm going to die' as you see a man running... running towards you (at this stage you have taken to occasionally using your hands to make sure you don't trip over on the uneven floor and rolypoly back down the the valley floor) and find yourself wheezing out loud 'he's an idiot'

but you press on. you're 20rds (vertical) from the peak, the sense of achievement is going to be fantastic, and the view just as good. you're sweating, everywhere, you can hear yourself panting over your headphones, but it's ok, you're there, in a minute you can sit down and enjoy.

then this small girl (ok so she could be in her 20s, but she's 5ft high and, well, a girl) has the audacity to appear, ambling towards you, away from the peak, not a bead of sweat on her, the same facial expression that somebody would have while having a bath, not in the least bit troubled by the climb she has obviously recently made. and you have to suck it all in and pretend you're not dying from the superhuman effort that has been the last 30minutes.

it's a blow but it's ok, you've made it, you're at the top. you sit down and spend 5 minutes fighting the urge to throw yourself off, not for any medlodramatic reason, but just because it's the easiest way to get back down. then you stand up and survey the routes from where you are to where you want to be and obviously it's to go back to where you started in the first place. obviously.

100yrds down the return journey your sense of achievement, of pride, takes a bit of a hit. that girl. THAT GIRL! is walking back towards you FROM THE OTHER PEAK. it's been five, maybe ten minutes since you last saw her. that's quite a pace. 

obviously at this point all this was running round my head and i sat down to make a few nots on my mobile about how i was going to blog it, as nobody does anything these days without simultaneously thinking about how the will tell the internet about it. just like nobody thinks anything of switching from 2nd person to 1st person during a narrative. it's a post modern world and we love it.

while writing... not even giving me time to stop writing. that superhuman 5ft lump of attractively shaped muscle comes jogging past me... jogging. it's important to note here that previous to this point there was no indication that she was out exercising or training in anyway, the previous movement, the manner of dress, was all indication of a simple volcano sympathising tourist just like me she was simply not satisfied with making me look like a useless subperson with her accelarated and unflinching wanderings around the peaks and troughs of this park, she needed something extra to keep her interested, so she broke into a jog. HOW DARE SHE! my sense of achievement is squashed under her feet as they pad delicately past. i haven't acheived anything, i''ve failed, i've been beaten by a girl... and I haven't even been beaten by her at anything particularly impressive.. i've been beaten by her at CLIMBING HILLS! 

rubbish.

i got distracted there. sorry. but yeah. basically edinburgh fringe festival is amazing. i spent 3 days there and was never bored at any moment. i spent the entire daylight hours of first 1 and half days simply wander up and down the royal mile being entertained by the street performers and people trying to sell there shows. you name me one other street in the world that a person can spend close to 15 hours just walking up and down, sitting on, without getting bored. and that's before you even start to look at the shows. i watched a gothic shakespeare at midnight. i watched stuart lee AND richard herring. and yes both their routines dwelled largely on the problems of being a 40something comedian that used to be on tv. only one of them mentioned fist of fun, by using a joke from the show, nobody in the room got the allusion until it was pointed out in the nest sentence. a saw a reletively poor sketch show played out to a room of a hundred people. and i saw a young comedian try and perferm his routine to an audience of just 6 people. ok, so he didn't try and perform his routine. he sat and chatted to us for an hour. but nobody minded. because they could walk out of that room and into another at any point to find a different entertainment.

and i didn't even get involved in the 24hour party that was caused by tens of thousands of people, from every age group, from every country in the world, all decending on one small area of one scottish city.

i have to go now and book my accomadation for next year. you should come.

River of Dreams

it seems that when waking life becomes a little pedestrian, dreams take up the slack, natural defence against depression i guess, which we all know is caused by boredom, and stupidity, but mostly boredom

anyway, at first my dear old brain decided the best way to keep me happy juices running was to simply release unrequested feelings of absolute terror at various points through out the night, not even really with connected dreams, just like a command, a little thought sat there on it's squidgy cloud singing 'you are going to feel more scared then you've ever felt in your life...... now.' and hey preston i have to wrench myself awake, ignore the things i see in the dark and sit up too scared to close my eyes.

all very exciting, but not particularly good for the self esteem of a 28 year old man

so last night it has a new solution. starts of innocently enough, sat around playing those riddle/puzzle type games where you're like 'you have a 20m length of hose, some water, a potato and several old christmas cards. what do you do?' y'know, THAT game, the one we play all the time.. yeah? ...no? i didn't either, but it seemed so familiar at the time

obviously this moved on from a theoretical game to one where a bunch of us actually found a long hose in a wooden tower by a lake and a bunch of other stuff and started acting out the crazy schemes and plans we'd drawn up. oddly the first thing one guy did was take the end of the hose and rub it in the mouth of another guy, confusion rained as the victim ran around looking a bit worried until eventually found someone with a toothbrush and paste and applied them to their standard use. turns out what this wag had done is 'dirtied his teeth', oh the hilarity

this all continues for a while and i take a few steps back just in time to see a police car and ambulance rushing towards minor incident around the other side of the lake, in order to get there they had to cross a thin strip of land between the edge of the lake and some trees which was just wide enough for the vehicles, the problem was it was a hill which angles at 45degrees across it's width down towards the lake. the police car crossed without trouble but the taller ambulance, with it's higher centre of gravity struggled, tipping slowly, slowly tipping until... sploosh. everyone cheers, highlight of the dream. it was ok though folks, it was an amphibious ambulance.

it goes without saying that as the sun went down all this devoped into a party in the wooden tower (which was on stilts over the water) it was very popular and The Who were playing live onstage, but the crowd got a bit rowdy and concern spread about the safety of the wooden flooring, so The Who were asked to leave and replaced by a fairly average girl fronted glam band that sat somewhere between Paramore and Hole and bizarrely had the lead singer from a Lancaster band i've known. From outside i could see the sun coming up and the students across the water complaining to the police about the noise and so decided it was time to pull the plug and headed towards the stage. Once there, before i could ask the band to wrap it up I had to follow a tramp around who had climbed onstage and begun trying to play the unusual number of spare instruments that had been left set up and unused around the stage.

plug bulled i bothered about trying to find the organisers to tidy up the mess when the phone rang, it was my brother, he was at home and a bag had just thrown itself across the room and he was a bit scared so i had to go home

it seems also then that when our life becomes a little pedestrian our brains melt a little inside

What a fecking buzz!

you're in a car, in traffic, stifled by the heat and still air, just hoping to get to your destination as soon as possible, then a few drops start to fall from the sky

10minutes later you can barely see out of any windows, driving is almost guesswork, the roof feels like it could give up the fight at any moment, the road looks like it's melting and a quick accelaration can throw a wave out across the pavement big enough to surf on (careful not to do it as people walk past though.. that would make you a 'wanker'), the streets are suddenly deserted, as if what fell from the sky was far more deadly than common or garden raindrops, the only people left out are those who were far enough from shelter when the bomb dropped to make taking any action became quickly pointless, couples in their summer clothes just making the best of it, topless boys on push bikes with that famous 'what are you looking at!?' expression frozen on their faces and that one girl with the umbrella and a massive smile that you have to give credit to for making like a boy scout this morning

we all spend fortunes and take risks on 15minute periods of increased excitement, but that one was for free

and now the thunder has broken up the air and we can all breathe again

now we know it's gonna be a good night

Once upon a time in china town

there are some meetings in this world, that while you weren't present, you know for a fact actually happened, like the one where the channel 4 exec sat the hollyoaks writers infront of a dvd of skins and said.. 'y'know, like that', or that one where the creator of the lush shops sat infront of a board of investers going 'it's soap.. but it looks like food... see... see... ' for about 4 hours before finally sitting down exhausted and going saying 'look, just phone your wives'

then there's the one where god (whichever one you choose, it doesn't matter) turned to mrs god (who was wearing a short summer dress and and had eyes that could melt diamonds) and said... 'y'know what'd be a laugh' and then created people

so i haven't blogged in a while, i was busy doing life stuff, but now i've gone done quit my job, free time is a little more abundant (i even tidied my flat the other day, living room AND bedroom.. crazyness) not as abundant as one might think, cos dreams don't chase themselves, but still, enough that there's a bit more time to think and pause and look out of the window and amazingly attractive girls talking on their phones in the courtyard, so hopefully i will teach myself to write again now.. hopefully

i still haven't eaten that coconut yet though.. i don't think i will be doing now

Wii fitness age... 33

so i bought this coconut right, i did it in a moment of impulse.. passion... wimsy.. i saw it, lying there at 1am in asda with all it's mates not doing much and my head shot back to more innocent times of coconut shys (shy? shigh? shuy-aye?) and novelty fruit & nuts and a grabbed it.. smiled to myself and wheeled along riding the back of my trolly full of salads and stuff

this was 7 days ago and i haven't yet found the right occasion to open it.. i feel something that is that much of a challenge to eat should be given some kind of ceremony, the opening of the nut should be, at very least, a blog worthy event (is blog worthy the 21st century version of.. 'something to write home about?' i think maybe it is

anyway, that is an aside.. a teaser if you will, for future reading... it's what tv quick would write in the preview of this installment of the soap opera of my life

speaking of soap, it doesn't go well with fresh pasta.

lifes taken a slightly unusual turn of late.. what i did was, i started eating 5 portions a day.. it's had 2 effects on me... it's increased my emotions a little... you know.. like how normal people feel, they feel happy and sad.. rather than just that constant humm of slight malcontentment that has been my soundtrack since i was.. well.. 12... i've found myself sat around feeling 'chirpy' at moments.. and 'upset' at others.. i quite like this apart from the fact that the fruit hasn't yet woken my brain up.. and when you feel 'chirpy' but without anything of worth running through your mind.. you feel.. to put it bluntly.. like a simpleton.. which is a most disconcerting feeling for a person who really has never had much going for them beyond their mind

the new diet has also increased my energy.. but not my motivation... which means i want to be doing something at all times... but i don't really want to 'try' at anything.. which of course leads to frustration and feelings of pointlessness.. 

on which note i've been giving serious thought to going back into education.. hell.. i live like a student anyway... not to get any more qualifications.. i've already 'earned' two sets of letters after my name, and in combination they contribute about as much to my life as a jam sandwich on moldy bread, i see no point in furthering this trend... but more to be given something new to think about... i reckon i want to be one of the self-important tits who sat around in pubs using words like 'subversion' and 'dichotomy' as if i've just invented punk.. maybe.. or maybe i just wanna do more maths... mmmm, maths

i think i've discovered my perfect career too.. i wanna be the guy who travels the country analysing traffic lights and re-programming them to be more efficient.. it's prefect, it's traveling, it's maths, it's working with computers.. and it will genuinely improve the lives of thousands of people.

if someone could get me an application form that would be swell

i didn't close the brackets up there.. how much did that piss you off?

One Cycle of the Moon

it's been a month since i last blogged, which first goes to highlight the ridiculousness of half of what i said in january, secondly echoes what i said in february about being too brain broken for conversation, but thirdy suggests that i might have actually done something worthwhile with the last month

ok, we can all stop laughing now. of course the majority of this month away as been spent sleeping, drinking, staring at various flashing lights, pretending to work, falling at a number of hurdles and all the usual things that would force anybody watching the film of my life (directed by john waters) to vent their building frustration by screaming at the screen such this as 'for christs sake you bloody waster!', 'oh dear lord how pathetic!' and of course the old classic 'how dare you!'

though some stuff has happened, that band thing has entered some kind of whirl or record labels, downloads, music television film crews and days in the heart of radio1, which brings a sense of accomplishment and with it a day (perhaps the only day) that i can describe, without reserve, as a 'good day'. and we don't get so many of them. of course all this just creates a new land of pressure, expectation and if we're not careful, panic, but for now it's good to pretend that isn't there and try in vein to be grateful for a new area of my life where i'm being given experiences i could never have reasonably expected to have

so.. and you won't hear me say this often... life is..well.. 'good'.... for now. it goes without saying that i'm not walking round smiling and being friendly and singing about sunshine and shit, and that i am infact still sleeping as long as possible each day and then spending most my energy trying to keep my inner chemical balance above the prozac line, as it was written, as it shall be and all that.. but when the obligatory 'bigger picture' is looked at we have to plot the graph of circumstance on the sunny side of conventional judgement

the only other thing worth talking about is that old 'social interaction' thing that screenwriters are always raping to earn a living. the art of sitting in roper hall passing judgement on a room full of strangers and not talking to anyone as been rediscovered and slightly refined, which is perhaps not the news to be most proud of, but it's a step away from the internet, which is nice. more positively the hobby of talking to people beyond the safety of pre-registered and approved perspective and opinion has reintroduced the daily questioning of the self and re-examination of the important choices that is frankly the most important part of being human in the 21st century... y'know.. the constant and unending critique of every part of your being leading to a spiral of self doubt, helplessness and frustration... it's what makes the world go round.

On a serious note, complacency is to death what cleanliness is to godliness.. so a big thanks to eveyone that's made me feel a little like crap this month.

those are enough words

keep smiling

x