Category Archives: Randomised Randomosity

What I Did On My Holigays

How I spent my holidays. Well, the first day of them, anyway.

– Slept a ridiculous amount.

– Started a one hour walk around the river, thought better of it five minutes in and went to buy a chocolate bar from the shop instead.

– Made good on a promise to myself to allot some time each day for reading. Decided that ‘Confessions of a Sociopath’ by M.E. Thomas is a boring load of wanky twaddle and abandoned it 125 pages in. That’s really saying something seeing as I’ve read the Twilight saga. Twice.

– Watched a German film called Free Fall on Netflix this morning und schpent der rescht uf mein day talkink to meinself viz a German accent.

– Dusted one of the 700 wooden blinds that this three storey retirement village for dust particles house has on its doors and windows. It took me 30 freaking minutes because it appears the previous tenants last dusted them never fucking ever years ago and somehow sprayed every window with a thoughtful spritz of cooking oil.

– Spent two hours this morning editing together a 90’s club mix. Listened back to it this afternoon, cringed so hard I burst a blood vessel in my eye and promptly deleted it.

Achieving. I’m… kinda doing it.

Kevin Smith is an amazing human.

Director and Writer Kevin Smith Tweeted this essay 140 characters at a time in response to someone asking him for help because they were being taunted about their weight, leading to thoughts of suicide. You can follow him @ThatKevinSmith . His incredible reply to a complete stranger brought tears to my eyes. Well played sir. Well played.

…We’re all too fat, sir. But weight loss, while a frustrating proposition, is the key: when you’re thin, you’re healthy, & nobody bothers you – so life’s always a non-caloric-cupcake-&-firework party!

However, having met 1 or 2 thin people (or “normies”) in my life, I’ve been able to glean that it’s also not always a picnic being skinny.

Okay, so if life blows for fat AND thin people sometimes, then it’s all relative – except for your packaging. So remove the whole “IF I CAN JUST GET THIN, EVERYTHING WILL BE BETTER!” bullshit & approach the weight loss with a realistic perspective: losing weight will SOLELY make you thinner & heart-healthier; other than that, it’s no different from being thin except all the sweating & getting a hard-on for DevilDogs.

So when the fantasy factor of weight loss is eliminated (fact: your life may stay the EXACT same & your problems may not suddenly evaporate) you’re left with un-hyped, non-augmented truth: when you lose weight, you’re doing JUST that: losing weight. Now – if you NEED to attach drama to weight-loss, as a sort of motivator, there’s no better gas in the tank than the simple desire to shut motherfuckers the fuck up.

S’fun to watch the endlessly opinionated suddenly choke on a reality they’d never prepared for: the mutable you. Folks wanna cast you in a walk-on role in the movie of their lives: they want to minimize you to one aspect/role/title THEIR self-esteem can handle. Don’t settle for being a last-billed extra in some other prick’s feature; be the goddamn STAR of your OWN movie.

The best revenge is when folks who’ve tagged & bagged you suddenly realize THEIR true roles: they amount to little more than a footnote in the film of YOUR life. Then?

Now – I’m not a spectral communicator & I don’t claim to congress with the dead. But I doubt ANY of this can be accomplished from the grave. As far as I know, you get one life. Milk it, sir. Chocolate-milk it, if you’ve gotta, but milk it for all it’s worth without harming others.

Treat yourself like you treat the things you own: bag & board your life & put it somewhere fuckers can’t bend your pages; maybe even framed. But whatever you do, don’t even whimsy about ending shit. It all ends soon enough, without our input or agreement.

Drop a little weight and it’ll be easier to drop a little more. For me it’s more about portion control: I’m an American, so everything I eat is like four feet tall.  On Weight Watchers, I’ve been rocking the Smart Ones meals, which I’m using to train myself to remember that two boxes of cereal in one sitting is not a meal; it’s a freak show that belongs on the boardwalk at Coney Island in the summertime.

Make the portions smaller (it’s the thing no chubby wants to hear, but it’s the only path: eat less & exercise. I’ve been doing that since Nov.1 & I’ve lost 40 pounds now.  And if I can do it, ANYBODY can do it.

I’m the laziest, fattest slob I know. My gut has a gut. But I’ll go Christian-Bale-In-The-Machinist before I give this wicked, wicked world one more second of my life any earlier than I’ve gotta. Batman watched his parents killed, and opted to stay above ground to make sure the same didn’t happen to anyone else, rather than crumble in defeat.

Granted, Batman is fictional. But then so are MOST of the people you look up to: they’re fictional. You don’t see their struggles, you only see their wins. Life is a zero-sum game: there has never been a winner.

Find a role model: someone who’s done this life in a way that inspires you and use the lessons of their life to enrich your own (hands off Gretzky, Lunchbox: he’s MINE). But find a role model, not a hero. Learn from others but be your OWN hero.

Long story short: next meal, eat less. Meal after that? Eat half. Leave food behind. Start like that. In a week or two, step it up a little: go out walking. Bring an iPod (I recommend loading with some #SModcast Network shows). Walk for 10 mins. Then 20. Then 30. Increase weekly.

A week will go by. Then a month – at the end of which, you’ll have lost some weight. It may not be a breathtaking amount, but it’ll be enuff to make you wanna lose a little more, maybe. And then a little more. But you can do this. Just know you’re going to do it ALONE – and that’s okay. This is YOUR journey. From time to time, even when NOBODY else understands why, we have to act against their grain – to get shit done.

Expect some taunts & teases from the swine, so I suggest finding a somewhat less-traveled road (but always let someone know where you’re going); and to paraphrase Teddy, a walking stick’s good for balance AND for making fucktards think twice about shooting their mouths off.

So no more of this suicide bullshit: how the fuck do you know you’re not the one who’s supposed to cure cancer. Or change shit. Or inspire the one who WILL change shit. The flick has three acts, sir; stay above ground – or you’ll never know what was possible; just what wasn’t…

So today, eat only HALF that Ho-Ho. All this week, eat only half the Ho-Ho. Next week, it’s Anti-Claus time: meaning NO Ho-Ho. Ho-Ho’s won’t vanish in our absence: there will ALWAYS be Ho-Ho’s.

next week, maybe years even? You can have another Ho-Ho – after which, you may mutter to yourself “Wasn’t worth it…” because that Ho-Ho becomes an hour walk to even make a dent in the caloric burning department.

We’ll lose weight, @thedarkknight98 – that’s EASY. Much harder to lose: the yapping, negative swine. Like herpes, they’ll be with us always.


July 1, 2006

Oui, Non.

I’d just like to say that it’s probably not a very good idea to keep your blue liquid record spray next to your bottle of Gaultier blue cologne spray. When you’re tired, and about to rush off to a late night gig, the chances of you confusing the two and giving yourself a very clean, anti-static neck are very high.

Le ouch.

Karma Cokemeleon

cokemachineThis one’s for humiliated teenagers everywhere. Today at work in the record store (Central Station Records, internet stalking enthusiasts) a mother was wandering around behind two teenage boys, berating them for choosing to look in our ‘grotty’ store with our ‘annoying’ music (we specialise in import dance stuff) in one of those overly-loud and completely embarrassing voices that parents of teens do so well.

One of the boys turned red and muttered something back, which led to a tirade from her about him having ‘no respect’ and how she wasn’t a ‘bloody fool’ and to stop talking to her like she was ‘an idiot’. All of this was moments before she turned around and smacked face first into our Coke machine.  The noise her features made as they hit the plastic fronting at velocity could only be described as a ‘squonch’.