Category: Fruit Loops

Gathering No Moss

Looks like I have the perfect thing to spend my bonus & leave selling on. Moving house again. Yes, for the third time in nine months, I’m going to have to relocate. Assuming I don’t go completely over the edge (and it’s tempting to abandon my sanity), more soon.


This was posted whilst I was in Brussels; I felt it should be preserved for posterity for all time on my blog. And I should also mention, I didn’t obtain permission so…there.

Hello my friends,

You are here now reading this text of mine because I have deleted. It probably happened whilst I was at work, quickly and in a fit of despair, which is what I expected.

Never forget I deleted doing exactly what I chose to do.

What I want you to know is how much I loved my life on Thingbox, and those of you who shared it with me. You were my family, you all know where I came from, and what my life on OutintheUK was like before, but Thingbox took that immature, judgemental young gay and ruined him. I have been blessed with your taunts and derision.

Rod, you are the worst, you insulted me, you twisted my words, and most of all you made me cry.

Austerlitz, you are capable of so much emotional indifference. You taught me without ever having to say a word. I realised I could be distant and non-committal without losing anything.

Ah, Apocalypso. We are so much alike, you and I. Both lazy Weymouthians who found ourselves in this dreadful online community. I hope I met my deletion with my bum on the sofa, tea and chocolate biscuit in hand.

Kaneda. Your fierce sexual appetite comes from within. It can’t be diminished. From you, I have learned to strive for sluttiness, no matter what the personal cost.

I-Like-Concrete/Alexis, I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you grow into the exceptional man you’ll be. But your hardline socialism and unlikely facial hair are ageless.

Godzilla, in those moments I felt the most desperate, you took my cock (not literally) and helped me to see things differently. You taught me to drink and party through the moment.

My friend Andanotherthing. You share your fears and anxieties with the repetitiveness of a broken record, and that makes you more miserable than any of us.

Malacylpse. I wish I could say you’ve been like a fat older brother to me, but I’ve never had one, so I don’t know what it feels like. But if there was someone on this internet I could choose to be like, someone who I would want to make proud of me, it’s not you. You who have the black heart of a schoolyard bully, and the soul of a misanthropic anarchist.

So, you’ll understand when I say, deletion is that state in which one exists only in the memory of others. Which is why it is not an end. No goodbyes, especially to all those ’boxer’s I’ve failed to namecheck. Just tortured memories.

Hailing frequencies closed.

Utterlee xoxo

Empty Diary Syndrome

Only 500 steps short of walking ten miles yesterday – or at least the measured ones on the 3DS.  It didn’t feel like it but then again having walked to the station in the morning because of the mile long traffic jams, that took up a significant percentage of footfall.  I’d have continued to walk down Oxford Street after walking past Selfridges but my stomach was lurching me in the direction of home.  Following a twenty minute conversation at work about curry, I was quite keen to go to somewhere like the India Gate or Hemelaya in Stratford but didn’t fancy going solo so had to make do with leftovers in the fridge. 

The only other thing of note about last night was that I finished my Russia game of G&K – it took much longer than expected but I have to sincerely thank the Arabs for being so stupid as to declare war without actually having a land border because when the time came to declare peace, I was able to quite easily extract all their gold in exchange for a cessation of hostilities.  Though with the exception of Golden Ages, my treasury was running at a loss for most of the game, so much so that I had to end up disbanding half my army just so that the bills could be paid. 

So let’s look ahead to the rest of September.  There’s nothing much happening to be honest and I’m trying to stick a couple of things in the calendar but otherwise, de nada.  Actually the rest of the year is quite empty – I’ve foregone my share of the Griffin Quiz prize which is the tour of the Globe followed by tea (not my bag) which’ll save on arguments.  I’m still wobbling on the date of the next games afternoon although I have something in the calendar for the 27th – Age of Mythology Day.

Was noch?  Um, Lee B is back in London after a year amongst the cloth caps and will be rejoining the quiz team (amongst other stuff) which is good.  I might have to see if I can borrow his TNG Blu-Ray set just to see if it is indeed worth purchasing or leaving for another time (like in 3 years if/when they release all seven seasons at once in one huge collection). 

Whilst I was having my lunchtime constitutional, I was considering my birthday.  Yes, one can appreciate it’s 5½ months away but by the time Xmas has come and gone, there’s a mad dash to March 1st.  At least if I start thinking about it now (theme, venue etc), I can get a head start on the planning.  And it’s on a Friday in 2013 which enhances possibilities.   

Nope, I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel for this blog entry.  I’m sorry but there isn’t much more I can add that’s noteworthy.  Things are just really quiet at the moment and I don’t feel like writing reviews, look-back articles or alternative history stuff.  Pontificating on a blog really isn’t me (although someone did that on Thingbox at the weekend and was counter-trolled to death) except when I’m really in a vile mood. 

Though there is this poem from school that popped into my head about three days ago and I can’t seem to repress it:


Tis a man’s occupation

To stick his knob-ulation

Up a woman’s ventilation

To increase the population

Of the younger generation

If you want a demonstration

Of this Sex Education

See me after Registration 

Get on the floor.

Girl Guide

Picture a Girl Guide
All dressed in blue
Slipped on a toadstool
And split her head in two

And there was blood on the toadstool
Blood on the ground
Blood All Around

(Now comes
The second verse
Little bit louder
Little bit worse)

Late Nights, Early Starts

After last night, I think I’ve officially regressed into a 24 year old, albeit greyer, thinner and bearded. After hiding from the rain in the White Horse once my day in the office had ended, I managed to quaff three hasty pints of Oranjeboom whilst pushing my luck on the quiz machine. Somehow, I managed to win £30 (chiefly through the Crystal Maze, Prize Pyramids and Lucky 7) before drinking most of my profits next door in the Barley Mow. It’s not my fault, I’m just weak when it comes to thrice-cursed Swedish Cider, especially of the rare Elderflower variety.

So somewhat intoxicated, I left the pubs for home around the 8.30pm mark. At reaching the junction of Strutton Ground and Victoria Street, I opted not to head for St James’ Park as I was awake enough to have something of a walk and sought to undertake my usual wanderings, music desperately playing though the iPhone. Headphones really are fading fast, even on maximum I struggle to hear over even light traffic.

After playing chicken with several cars across the numerous pedestrian crossings (where do I work again…??), I came to Knightsbridge which seemed odd when deserted of tourists and the nouveau riche dispensing of their riches in shops that sell some of the most aesthetically displeasing rags I’ve looked at. If you want to know what to wear for this autumn/winter, these shops are flogging really baggy woollen garments. Clearly the George Dent/Librarian from Ghostbusters look is in this season.

And so its through Hyde Park I come next; it’d had been some time since I walked through the park in the dark (no comments about being a poet please). But rather than do the extended journey around the horse track, I made straight for north and Marble Arch. What I found however, was a very, very large number of people milling around the sodden green area. Rather than continue on home, I decided to stick around.

Maybe I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have gone straight home for a late supper and a bath before bed but by loitering, I was able to hook up with not one, not two, not three, not four, not five, not six but seven other park patrons. It was the liquor, it was all the fault of the liquor impairing my damned judgement. Not that I mind however, I feel very elated at having shared so many experiences, it’s not often multiple contacts are made.

In the end I had to leave, not least because time was rapidly approaching midnight and the last Central Line eastbound would be leaving. But I might have stayed, not least because the first person I spotted was someone I was somewhat anxious to get to know better.

Hmmm, I’m reviewing this and wondering if the coy euphemisms are actually worth it? But as a believer in the truth and everything it stands for, it’s going to stay in here for prosperity. After all, I’m an adult, this is an adult’s world and I’ve removed most of the blatancy. Plus there’s a little bragging to be done.

So after I got home, I had a small snack before a bath, a cup of Green Tea with Jasmine (which is beginning to taste less and less offensive the more I drink it) and watched the 1am repeat of Bad Girls, one of the few I’ve not seen before (Shell and Denny are in Bodybag’s house). Went to bed but woke up at 5am for an hour because I was too damned hot despite my fan being on. Though I have been sneezing a bit – no other cold-like symptoms but I’ve chalked that up to dust rather than any other ailments. It’s not inconceivable I’ve been fighting off a cold but my diet has seen a massive upsurge in garlic consumption lately, not as a defence against vampires but rather because I’ve been reading about its health benefits and have decided I want some of that. Anyway, it’s a good foodstuff to boost the immune system so in it goes into the cooking pot.

Of course these late nights do play havoc with the body clock, especially during the week. Although it’s a quiz night tonight, if I don’t stick around afterwards I can go straight home and straight to bed. It won’t happen but it’s vaguely reassuring I can at least consider this as an option.