Hey,

I don't think I've ever had a first weekend just being all up in my face with its big and empty. I have no other collections, I have no deadlines until Thursday, so I guess I should just make the most of it. I'm hoping that maybe the most can make the me of it, thus saving me the effort, but with just as much fun and flavour.

I went to a cinema at half eleven this evening. This is exciting. What is better is we went to see I Heart Huckabees. I was pretty sure people didn't make films like this. The film is stuffed full of casual, throwaway absurdity (not the sort of absurdity that is the entire point of the exercise but the sort that happens while the rest of the scene unfolds) and clever, silly lines that make up an incredible fast-flowing dialogue where there is no punchline. I'm totally in love. And yes, it is about existentialism, but not in a way that says "here, this is what it is all about", but more in a way that says "hell, we don't know what its all about". I think that's the meaning: that there is no right way to think about anything, and that others can't give you some easy answers. I think that's the meaning. And if its not, well, its still funny as hell.

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

Ok, this is intended to be a quick post. The current time is 23.58pm, Wednesday, 0th week. We shall see.

So I did that whole thing where I went to France, saw my girlfriend, celebrated her 21st birthday, and came home again. You know, that thing. At speaking the language, I, as the French would say, suck le coq. I mean, the French are bastards are making you speak French even if they know some English, but with me, they last three words before they join in to help. "Ahhh, zis is a special child, zis is not ze good French zat we want our children to hear" they zay, err, say. Of course, not everyone is au fait with this arrangement, so sometimes, I make small mistakes, which I later work out, by which point it may be too late.

----------------------------------
Taxi Driver: So, you live here in France?

Me: No.

Taxi Driver: You have come to visit?

Me: Yes.

Taxi Driver: You like the weather?

Me: Yes, its very good.

Taxi Driver: You British are used to driving on the other side of the road? *French laughter*

Me: Yes, yes *poorly imitated French laughter*

Taxi Driver: This flight is useful and great for getting to France.

Me: Yes, certainly.

Taxi Driver (into intercom): On my way to the airport. I shall come back soon

Me: The taxi company?

Taxi Driver: Yes, the French Imperialistic Taxi Company

Entire French population: *French laughter*

---------------------------------------

Au resevoir,

Craig

Hey,

Things to do:

Christmas...done
New Year...done
Cath...'s birthday present shopping...done.

My Christmas really began at Cath's house where I was asked to decorate the tree with a theme. I was planning on going for The Uncertainty and Fragility of Human Existence, using the baubles to demonstrate the many obstacles we face, the ornament on top to suggest a higher being overseeing all of us and tinsel to illustrate the idea that we never know what is around the corner but after some consideration I went for Red and Gold.

Cath went out and had a drink with all her brothers and sisters (naturally she was surprised because she used to think she had just the one brother). The question, "what are your partners strong and weak points" came up, and when she told me, I tried to work out what my answer would have been. I decided that Cath's best point is that as a person I think she understands me better than anyone else, she is happy to listen and knows when I want to talk, and can comprehend those things that I value as important. On the downside, she persistently flushes the toilet when I'm in the shower. Sometimes she comes back and does it two or three times even when there was nothing to flush. Either that or she finds a tap to run, a sink to fill or a washing machine to turn on. On one memorable occasion, she started her own canal system in the back garden. Either way, I end up with third degree burns and hypothermia and the shower goes nuts and oscillates with a range of 200 degree centigrade, and a mean of five below zero.

There is nothing pleasant about having to wear five sweaters to get your body temperature back to normal while the flesh is peeling off your back.

While we are on the subject, does anyone know the secrets of the central heating system? There is something quite magical about the way my parents say "its a bit cold in here", disappear behind the door for three seconds, and upon their return, I'm sitting in my underpants and fanning myself with the latest copy of Sky magazine. In all fairness, the only change is the picking up of the latest copy of Sky magazine.

I did have a good New Years Eve in Cardiff. The key to a great New Year's party is low expectations, which I had plenty of when Cath's eldest sister brought her three children. The twins, both of who were ten weeks old, made terrible drinks waiters. There was dancing, you know, a bit of romancing, some giving it all tonight, but then, we were in that sort of mood. Come midnight, there was the suggestion that we go outside into the cold and the next thing I knew I was crossing arms and singing with my nipples very much on display, but in all fairness, the only thing that had changed was that we went outside and we started crossing arms and singing.

And then yesterday, Cath went back to France. I have this small memory that she asked everyone to go visit her when we called Party Central, St. Ives. We had some interesting conversations. John did his best Matt Lucas impression for "I'm the only sober one in this village". Dave was all "Hi guys, sorry, Meg's had just a little bit too much" and Meg was all "vomits", and Dave was all "It's in my eye!", and Shani was all "Revenge! Sweet Revenge!". I phoned Ad and couldn't hear a single thing because I think I called his megaphone instead of his mobile phone and everything sounded like a train crash. We talked for twenty four minutes. Anyway, we packed up the car and said goodbye to the canal system and that was the end of the holiday, and coincidentally, the end of this post.

Happy 2005,

Craig

Hey,

I'm back for a few days, for Christmas with my family. Then, they are off to Florida and I am off to Cardiff for a week. Oddly, I know which of the two places I would rather be at.

I'm full of a whole bunch of feelings at the moment. I'm not really exicted about Christmas, though I am looking forward to getting presents. And eating as well. I am strongly in favour of all over-eating policies on the local, regional and international agenda and hope to find a party who supports my views. But Christmas as this magical, special, incredible day just doesn't exist. Maybe it never has. Maybe it was just this illusion that afterwards you think, that was really great, but if you actually dissect it all, there's nothing there.

It's also quite sad because it's coming up to five years since a close school friend, Ed Matthews, passed away, so I'm going to the crematorium on Boxing Day to leave some flowers. Not only is it sad because I've been thinking about him recently, but its been five years, yet its felt like nothing. Fuck, I can remember being there, finding comfort in my friends, sharing memories, trying to come to terms with it, and it feels more real than just a memory. I can feel myself in those rooms, walking to the service, speaking to his Dad. And that was five years ago, and I really, really like to know exactly where all that time has gone.

Thankfully, I am still remarkably upbeat. I'm happy Cath's back for two weeks. I'm happy I've got to see my friends at home. I'm looking forward to the next year. I'm feeling good about university. Hell, I'm even looking forward to Finals.

I've decided not to use this last little space to wish you all a Merry Christmas. Instead I hope that the beginning of the new year is a time for examining the person that you are, and that you can, from this moment on, be as true to yourself and pursue your own identity, your own personal ambitions and goals. It's common at this time of year to try and do as much for others; I think its just as important to do just as much for yourself. All my love to everyone that I love.

Craig

Hey,

I'm just waiting for Cath's dad to pick me up, and then we are off to the airport to pick up Cath. I think my holiday starts here. I get two weeks of girlfriend, family, no work, and just being able to relax. I need it. I mean, I look awful. Really, really bad. I will attempt to fill myself with, if not seasonal cheer, then at least seasonal beer, which may have the same effect vis a vis stopping me looking like the undead.

Anyway, its always hit and miss whether I can post on Cath's computer, it seems not to like Blogger, so if you don't hear from me, fear the worst.

Speak soon,

Craig

OK, so there's an update over at The Other Site. The "Adult, Content" feature is hopefully going to be a regular monologue type piece. I hold my hands up and admit it is completely out there. I hope you at least are able to finish it without giving up.

Actually, I gave this article to Charl to be considered for publication in the magazine she has become manager of. I was planning on holding it back until a decision on it had been made on whether it got published, but then I thought screw it, I wouldn't expect my friends to have to go and find it to read, so I'm asserting my intellectual property rights and using it to fill the gap while me and Dave get some new material together. Please hold tight.

Craig

Hey,

I'm sorry, but at least until Friday, all I have to tell you is Things that Happened at Work. This is not exciting, but we'll see what we can do with such limited material.

Today, when hanging up a shirt that comes in a cardboard display box, I dropped the shirt that comes in a cardboard display box and the shirt that comes in a cardboard display box hit me just below my eye. I am not blinded, but I am also not disgustingly rich, so it looks it was pretty much a good news/bad news type event. Later in the day, I picked up a pyjamas set quickly, and as I raised it even more quickly, catching my earlier wound. I am not pleased, but also I am not drowning at sea, in keeping with the trend of the day.

Last night, I had the worst carol singers come and abuse my ears, so I endured two verses of jingle bells, before I sighed and suggested that X-Factor was probably out of the question, and went to fetch a pound coin, because I didn't have the heart to tell the kids to get orf ma land. My parents couldn't beleive it. They are now convinced they will report back to Charity HQ, thus starting a prolonged campaign of regular visits to ask for some money for Africa, kids with diseases, the poor, the homeless, the paranoid, the demented, the sick, the slightly sick, the people with a bit of a sniffle, the people with vitamin deficiencies, the friends of the earth, the foes of the earth, the impartial bystanders of the whole earth survives/earth doesn't survive debate, the victims of war, the victims of persecution, the victims of public transport, the victims of victimisation by other victims of vitamin deficiencies, and the royal society of the prevention of cruelty to otters, beavers and weasels. It is a hypothesis which remain to be proven

I remain not unconcerned, but by no means fossilised in amber.

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

If you haven't checked it out by now, Project Brainstorm is here, and it is now. It is technically a weblog at the moment, while Dave and I find an alternative home. This requires learning the basics of HTML, which is my case will come after learning the basics of the English language. We, of course, would be happy with any external help towards either problem.

Anyway, here's how the future looks. The Frogg Blogg will be my weblog, so that's me writing about myself. Project Brainstorm will be the home of mine and Dave's writing, so that's me writing for the rest of the world. Unlike the Blogg, the Project will not become available as a LiveJournal feed, because the point is it is not a journal. So that means visiting it as a website, like you would do with any other.

Yesterday, at work, we heard a song on the radio that is a dance cover of some other song from a long time ago. I said, "This is a cover, but I don't know..." at which point my co-workers jumps in with "what of?". There was no trace of humour. I despaired for a good few hours, then I told the rest of the world about it.

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

They had a debate on the radio today, about violent computer games. The DJ was talking about this game, "Manhunt", which is being blamed for a schoolboy killing. The DJ wanted to know what people thought about computer games with violence in getting into the hands of children. The whole section had me cursing at the radio like a lunatic guy with Tourettes.

I think my anger has two themes. Firstly, the whole topic is endemic of a current social attitude where people want someone else to take the blame for something, and have an outsider make decisions for them. Whether it is diet, drinking, smoking or the media and entertainment, the same idea is repeated: what are the government going to do about this terrible threat to our cosy little civilised world? On "Who Knew", Eminem raps "Don't blame me when little Eric falls off of the terrace/You should have been watching him, apparently you ain't parents". I think this sums up nicely my attitude. A kid playing a game judged suitable for people over the age of 18 is entirely the parents fault. They should make the decision whether the game is suitable. If they decide wrongly, then they shoulder the blame. If they don't decide at all, they are not suitable to have children. Would you let a child decide on the best time to cross a busy road? The same idea holds.

I got really annoyed when the DJ said "some games feature murder and prostitution. That's just sick. Surely they should be banned altogether". You know, so do some films, but I see no-one blaming (currently) films for murder. These are "adult themes". They are also a facet of real life. I think computer games are by their nature escpasism, and also that blurring the lines between good and evil is a compelling concept. Put the two together, and games like Manhunt and Grand Theft Auto are the result. I refuse to believe they have any influence over the way people think. If anything, I would imagine they would reduce violence because they give a non-harmful outlet to some of the nastier sides of human nature. Adults make their own decisions, and then deal with the consequences. Blaming a computer game or a heavy metal band or wrestling or any form of non-traditional entertainment for tragedies shows as much contempt for human life than the murders themselves.

Well, I think I'm done with a few days of solid ranting. There are plenty more things and people I'd love to talk about, but I don't want to get into a habit. There will be new material soon.

Craig

Hey,

I've decided that next Christmas I'm going to have well known pop acts [natural bodily function] into a microphone, and release the four minute long result in aid of charity. I expect it to go to number one, despite the fact that no-one will listen to it, because it is, in fact, a four minute long [natural bodily function]. Sorry, what was that? Someone has already done that? Oh dear. Here's the thing, people, don't buy the record, just give your money to charity, like this one. Don't support bad art in the name of a good cause.

And no, I can't bring myself to type any word that means [natural bodily function]. I just can't.

Moving on to real music now. I was shocked to hear this story and read about it after work. I can't think if anything more tragic than going out to do something you love, and never returning. I then drop into long internal arguments with myself about the nature of death and the fragility of life. Too scary, really. I may turn to religion because my tiny mind can't deal with own mortality in a sensible, sophisticated way.

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

Seeing as I've been defriended by Alice, I suppose I'll have to leave my reply here. Yes, I am happy. Almost all the time, in fact, because my life is pretty good. It's just inane drivel that I'm not fond of.

Speaking of inane drivel, I went back to work today. Young, fashionable types are nowhere near as entertaining as middle-aged single mothers. " I can't wait to go out this weekend." "Ooo I can't either". Please, dear God, make it go away. At lunch, the pair questioned my ability to be faithful when my girlfriend was away for a year. I mean, they questioned, if I had the chance, I would go for it, wouldn't I? Hello, my life isn't a rubbish soap-opera, I can act as a normal, well-balanced, decent human being without surrendering to the urges of my inner frat-boy. Do we have a British equivalent to the frat-boy stereotype? My inner rower? My inner law student? My inner rugby jock? My inner tyre? Damn tyres with their gangster life style, sipping on gin and juice in the club with their woman, while some of us less well off rubber appliances have to go off to work as a kettle or a waste paper basket, working for the Man, or sometimes a whole bunch of Men. We all came from the same oil drum. They just think they're more refined than us. They should just get a grip.

Also, they (people at work, not tyres) don't realise when I'm joking. Says an older member of staff "what's well good?" Says I "Better than good, not quite excellent. Somewhere in between" Nods all around. Next time I will stand on my chair, announce "The following programme contains some mockery, which some listeners may find offensive", say the joke, then afterwards smile, point and say "that's you".

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

Just got back from swimming. At times I really miss it, because, quite frankly, I'm good, and even after all this time, I still feel comfortable in the water. Tragically, that is called talent, and, by quitting a few years back, I guess I'm wasting it. But the direction my life was heading, and that required to be a top swimmer, did not make for good Venn diagrams. I suppose I really miss the competetion, rather than the daily training, so I suppose its all OK. Quick tip: the swimming pool and large dinners are not a great combination. Unless you have some form of raft or floatation aid, in which case, you can have quite a nice picnic without anything getting all soggy and stuff.

Right, Goons now. "Do you know where Crete is? "No, but my taxi driver does." "Crete is in the Meditarranean." "Won't it get wet?". I think I'm in love.

Craig

And now for something completely cultural.

I sent off me and Cath's Christmas list to her Mum today. When she sent it to us, she included an accompanying poem. Anyone who has known Cath since the first year knows she write silly yet quite cool poems whenever she writes to us. Anyway, I sent one back, which I thought I'd repost here for posterity.

Sue, I fear you will go quite ballistic,
When you see my list is this optimistic,
I'm sure that I've given you plenty of ideas,
Not just for now, but the next twenty years,
I hope I haven't asked for more than I oughta,
(After all, I'm only boyfriend to your daughter),
That your shopping trips will do you know harm,
(And the credit card bill ain't as long as your arm)

The problem for Cath was less one of greed,
But rather she had no clue what she would need,
Perhaps, out in France, she is that well equipped,
She needs nothing more than the Pernod she sipped
For breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I note with a laugh,
The previously full bottle is now down to half,
Half empty or half full? the question will tell,
Whether you, like me, are optimistic as well.

Now to my mind, the word laugh and half don't rhyme. Of course, I'm not ... lesbian kiss on Neighbours. Sorry, I was saying something. Well, no way I can work out what that was now.

Craig

Hey,

Getting older is an odd thing. When I'm forty, I'm sure it'll be a Bad Thing, but right now, I'm glad I am am no longer sixteen. I have good memories of that earlier time. Memories is enough. Now, I'm glad I can go to the pub and have a few drinks and come home and my Dad is still up. I'm glad my definition of a good night no longer revolves around the amount of alcohol consumed, but of the quality of the company and the entertainment. I'm glad that I feel content as a human being to do what makes me happier, with the people that make me happiest. So happy, I will rip off Bill Hicks.

*chirp chirp*. Hey, look over there, that's Craig waiting for everyone else to catch up. Yeah, it's kind of a Rabbit and Tortoise sort of story.

Speak soon,

Craig

Hey,

Lamb of God show was awesome. The entire show, all three bands, was blistering and I am so gonna buy all their albums as soon as I have some money. I managed to avoid the merchandise stand, which was a good thing because I always feel compelled to give these bands my money so they can feed themselves for another day, being the charitable soul that I am. Awww, look at him with his five inch spiked wristbands, his shaved head and his vitrolic growl. Isn't he the cutest? Dad, can I feed the metalhead? It is hard being in a metal band, and I like to feel like I am making a difference to their Jagermeister drenched lives.

In more surprising news I died by contact poison on my door handle. I have a theory about "Oh You Fucking Dumbass" moments that occur on a startlingly regular basis, which is that some people - we will call them Inate Dumbasses - find that these moments are the pivots around which the rest of their lives revolve. Friends, I fear I may be I.D. Please be considerate.

Speak soon,

Craig