Death 2 Damacus

Alright, this is unorthodox, I wasn't expecting to blog tonight... due to terrible recruiting skills and intense panic however, I will be. Originally I agreed to the idea that this blog would have at least a post a day from it's inception... In a way I've sort of ended up on the wrong end of my own miserably cruel invention, the shotgun blog within a week of it's creation.

Yeah, that's right, me again, so here goes my breakdown of Allen Ginsberg's Howl... Yeah, no, no way in hell. Blogging as a medium isn't ready for that level of self affirmation through the pivotal work of another... says me now apparently.

Well, let's just go generic, seriously ANYONE, if you're following, posting or something, surely you can outdo this. I've only slept for 2 hours and have only eaten a meager breakfast today, I'm quite literally falling asleep while writing this. I'm serious, could we get a REAL post tonight rather than whatever I'm about to unleash. Okay, I'm going generic, screw anti-conformism... but just this once.

Alright, what have I done lately? Yeah right, as if you care... hmmm maybe this is exactly why I can't recruit people for this. Yesterday I decided to show up for another of Damacus's god awful event ideas that are so often shot down by the general air of disinterest that you start to feel sorry for him and relent. First mistake. A bad movie night is one of those things you show up for hoping that the group consensus is that we try the theme for ten minutes, everyone loses interest and you can just find something casual to mellow out doing before sleeping. It wasn't so bad at first, if you blurt out some random activity, people will do it for the sake of time consumption. So we end up outside being barraged by tennis balls while I hit a bicycle wheel with a broom, yeah, look at me, I'm so hilariously random... yeah, keep watching... just don't start doing what we came here to do, PLEASE. Somehow I end up standing out the front of the local fish and chip shop holding a broom, cool.

The inevitable comes, someone brings out one of those board games that worked in theory, but victory becomes impossible once certain miserably prideful personalities who cannot accept loss at a game whose founding principle lies in chance and so must obscure and invent rules for the sake of elongating this hellish experience. Having experience with this, I politely decline to play pokemon snakes and ladders. Now this scene needs to be set, the game is set up BEHIND the television... to clarify, viewing is IMPOSSIBLE. So the night commences, I'm in the corner now, no amount of struggling will deliver the sweet spontaneity I crave. Now we're doing what 'we' set out to do. The despot sits out of the way of his envenomed rentals and starts trying to catch a pidgey... WITHOUT that catchy route 1 music beeping hot nostalgia through his tyrannic veins. The disc reflects my look of sheer despair as it's inserted to sounds of cold mechanical cruelty.

I can only liken this to Ludivico treatment, I'm sorry, I wanted to leave out obscure, pretentious references after last time but this is just too good. Catwoman is a relentlessly awful movie... I was pining for the credits within 3 minutes, I'm sorry but any movie with such an emphasis on cosmetics is going nowhere fast. But I'm sure enough of the blogging community has voiced it's opinions on this movie. The point is, I was subjected to this and this wasn't my idea. Of course not a shred of guilt lines the face of the devil incarnate, he just glares indignantly that noone's accepting his new rules to serve as the foundation to his impossible victory.

Xanadu... no, this didn't need to happen at all. Roller skates, unnecessary Greek mythology and imaginary LSD girlfriends are something I'll never condone. Everything is wrong with this movie, for one, it's a musical that's NOT Sweeney Todd, the main character is the 'fastest' painter this side of wherever and the colours, NO WAY. I'm not good with trippyness, I live in a semi permanent acid trip. I don't need it, especially when I'm not sleeping...

I drew the line at Alvin and the Chipmunks, NO MORE. I put up with an hour at least, but this was the crux. Every song present in the film, even when heard in it's original context causes intense nausea now. This has already gone on long enough. The 'victims', myself included are trying to keep their faces connected from the strain of constant disgust at what was being viewed. The torturer however, is more concerned about a futile clean sweep of his opponents to see us writhe. So naturally this doesn't end. Not even assorted episodes of The Mighty Boosh serve as catharsis.

This is absolute pain, noone deserves this. Our baffled groaning at the time, the inability to sleep and the fact that we are STILL hearing about why some useless trade should be made in a game that can't possibly still be enjoyable.

By the end of the night the game has gone on until 6:30am, it went for 7 hours... I'd be seeing red if I wasn't immobile. Here's the cruel part though. I get two hours of sleep. Today was hell because of it, Damacus complains about being interrupted and able to return to sleep. Who says he's gonna post? Who went to sleep THREE HOURS AGO?!?!?

Well, here's my post, you'll note some subtle bitterness, of course I've tried not to be personal but who knows, this bastard could be nearer than you think, he might even post on this blog.

Oh, yeah before I forget, Damacus can you be ready to find someone to post tommorrow if you have to... You know I can't because I can't actually talk to people on MSN or Facebook... yeah I think it just screws up or something when I try... hehe