»27th January 2005

Silent Thief

Night-time the insurection
A pasta meal of death.

Torment, still forgotten
No marge, no flavour taste.

Curtains, shut in day
Flat empty most of the time.

Gambling, Hollyoaks, T4,
Recorded on VCR.

Silent thief
Behold new margarine.
Pasta is warm
Sacrifice spreadable form.

Tired, need a meal
Bearer of no milk.

Casino, insane games
Refreshment go to seek out.

Acquired, liquid of life,
Whole milk Sam will drain.

New day, breakfast wrecked,
Dry cereals, coffee mate in tea.

Silent thief
Not seen in the sun.
Pasta is warm
Flavour the meal let it melt on.

LEAD: KING, HANNEMAN

Rife aftershave
Applied by the zealous.
Avoiding close neighbours
Seen once in three weeks.

Could succumb to death,
Never see him anyway
Rare conversation, no imagination,
Sam is fucking you insane.

Night-time the insurection
A pasta meal of death.

Torment, still forgotten
No marge, no flavour taste.
Mystery man's fragrance is near.
Doors are slamming can you hear
Crimes in the night.


Sorry for putting in annother Slayer lyric change, they're just so addictive. This one was Silent Scream, and is harder to sing along with the original.


End of the beginning

Though not the actual end of the week, I don't have anything on my timetable tommorow so, for me at least, the week-end starts here. Looks like Thursdays are going to be good days, the midday start is fine by me, the British Politics tutorial is the most tolerable of the three and the Modern History lecture at four is fairly tolerable. The tutor is a member of the 'discussion about your notes on the books and articles in the reading list' school, which is fine by me. No noticeably egotistical pricks are present, there didn't seem a massive onset of apocalyptic tasks, the only real let-down was finding out about the three hour exam. Three hour exams not being in the Historian's rather sparse and low intensity remit. Two hours I can deal with (well at least I think I can (inconvenient illness preventing me from sitting the medieval history exam)), but three is just a sick joke. Well, I say 'sick joke', perhaps 'moderate inconvenience' is more accurate.

It turns out that not only did the Milk-Thief/Mystery-Man/Sam steal the majority of my remaining milk, he also carved a hefty chunk out of my Utterly Butterly, probably to add flavour to his 4am pasta specials. The bastard. Utterly Butterly isn't free, neither is milk. Were it the case that I seen him more, I wouldn't be as bothered. The fact he doesn't buy his own food because he is never in the flat (at least when shops are open) and so uses everyone else's food whilst not actually talking to or been seen by everyone else, THAT is what pisses me off. Plus the fact that he slams doors when I'm trying to get to sleep. The purchase of a mini fridge would be one answer to my problems, though plugs are at a premium in my room which is slowly getting to the cable intensity of the Head Like A Hole video (without the nausea inducing flashing images) and a mini fridge in my room would give me virtually no reason whatsoever to leave my room when not attending lectures, tutorials or going to the library (the real library, the one with books, not the stealthily named pub).

The Nelson Mandela book turned up today. It's thicker than it looked in the tutorial on Monday. I consoled myself with the fact that I only have to read parts 1 and 2, which only amounts to 107 pages. Not so bad, I guess. Part 1 was significantly thicker than part 2, so I decided instead to read the first 5 of the 10 chapters in parts 1 and 2. Really clever tricks like that, deciding the amount to be read to provide the best ballance between least effort and greatest academic gain, are what history is all about. For they are transferrable skills, which will benefit you when you start whatever career you choose (history being such a bountiful subject, you can choose practically ANY career you want, making it the only useful and thus the best degree course in the world, and a great choice for anyone, wanting to do anything). And so it was that God looked unto the transferrable skills in history, and lo, the transferrable skills were good. Like a great thunder God said "Let it be known that with these transferrable skills, students of history will be a valuable asset to a company, offering both versatility and capability.", and it was known, for the employers cried for employees with analytical skills and the ability to understand a wide range of sources and types of material. And the employers praised God and thanked him for his gift of the history students.

Oops, just slipped into a bit of Genesis there. Man, Phil's 'laughing' in 'Mama' isn't that good.



That's what I look like when I'm using my transferrable, analytical skills and reading a book by the way.


Extar, over, out.

TCP/IP, it's fucking me off. Other protocols doing little more. Definitely got worse. Now making me curse. Removing IPX. Will it ever work? Never!