Posted 8:58 AM by Gobbler
The Blog.

I will be honest with you, as you are taking the time to read this. I am not entirely sure where this blog will be taking us. As a diary its isnt frightfully useful. Average day: "got up, sat at desk, stared at wall, got distracted, sat down again, stared at a different bit of wall, stood up, sat down, got distracted, stood up, sat down, bla bla".

Well, you know, I don't know. Perhaps that is frightfully exciting to you, but its not what we're here for. What I intend to give you is a few stories, and see what happens. Happy now?

This one for example, which is a classic example of neo-post modernist writing style, yes of course it is, takes place in a bar. Funny that. There is a middle aged german guy in this bar. Now, dont get me wrong, he's not the only person in this bar, in fact its a fairly large and fairly busy place. To be honest its not a bar, it is a pub, an Irish one no less, although we arent actually in Ireland, although of course that shouldnt come as any great surprise because, as you may well know, if you know even jsut a few things, that the Irish and their pubs get everywhere. One theory is that they build their pubs with stickle bricks and marbles, but this theory has little credence in modern thought. We know that our german fellow is in this bar, sorry pub, because of the smoky haze in the air and the occasional people who bustle past us as we sit at the bar. If we look into the background of our scene we can see a few other people smoking talking and drinking. Our German guy, Peter, sits at the corner of the bar, where he has been for the last couple of hours drinking weissbier. He's not especially drunk, nor is he especially sober. He has been happily recounting tales of things that he really likes. Having recounted what he really likes, for example good beer (good german beer is the best) and Marlboro Red cigarettes (good american cigarettes are the best) and Der Spiegel (of course its the best) we have, with a nod of his blonde head and a puff of a Marlboro Red and a sip of weissbier, just got round to the pinnacle of this conversation: what he really, really likes. I am quite ready for this part of the conversation as, between you and me, I didnt find the tales of what he really likes all that exciting.

"Ja Ja, I love England. I love it! It's great.

"I was in england for three months, for work. I was in London and actually I had a really great time there. Always and all the time good time, though my englsih is not so great, I think its ok. And, oh ja, ok, you know Monty Python, its so great, very funny and we dont have anything like this in Germany, not at all, no, and for the english people the jokes are all the time like this the same, and i like this. Always and at all times making these jokes.

"And you know in London, you know, ok, its raining all the time, but this is ok and its actually not always true, and youre having a good time and it doesnt matter. But oh, the underground system is so bad, but I like it because.

"Oh ja, this is true, there are many types of foreigners there, in london, which is good and i like many of them. But the english people are the best. I like them, ja. And this one time it was in the underground and I was having, I was had, no wait one moment sorry, I had, yes, to ask something from someone for some reason I cannot remember I think it was for direction. And of course my English is not so good and I have the accent. And this guy he knew that I was German and as soon as he knew this he put his arm out like this, like this you can see? and he shouts out to me 'Heil Hitler!' very loud."


MR GLASER.

How was it possible? Just how was it possible? The stinking putrescent disgrace, the filthy personage. So many diseases, score upon infectious score, how did they all find a place to stay in the riddled body of Mr Glaser. Rotten to the core. How was Mr Glaser still alive, and more importantly, why had he not yet been put down? You can catch fatal diseases just from looking at photos of him. Not that you can actually see him clearly, what with the cloud of flies around him, buzzing and feasting on the filth. That, dear friends, is Mr Glaser.

Actually quite a good chap. A little bit foreign.

Mr Cheese: Not as much as one would hope. Hows the editing going?

Posted 11:13 AM by Gobbler
The Weather, Man.

Seville. Picture the dream: orange trees peppering the city, ram-jam-crammed with fruity orange specimens and were not talking dutch people. Narrow streets winding hither and thither between tall houses and churches, keeping at bay the blistering heat of the sun that blasts the city. 40 odd degrees in April. Put simply, quite nice.

Seville. Picture the realitÿ: orange trees all over the bloody place, battered by the wind winging oranges all over the bloody place, knocking down old grannies and seriously wounding unfortunates. Youve got to steer clear of the damned orange trees which more or less involves steering clear of Seville. Not a sniff of sun, it been raining constantly for three days. An Englishman is impressed by the feat, but not amused. The accommodation is unheated because of the anticipated onslaught of the yearround heatwave, legions of fans line the walls. Is pneumonia setting in or is it only frostbite? Bugger, my toes just fell off. And- oh crap - my computer has just floated away. Put simply, quite not nice.

Ok its not so bad, in fact its quite nice. but it has been raing for the last three days constantly and looks set to continue for at least another one.

Still, moved into the accommo today, and it'll do. two french and one dutch housemates, they seem sane enough. Quite Niiice. (As in "Kwaat Naaaaaace", you should practice it, its great to say in almost every instance. Quite nice. in fact Kwaaaat Naaaaaaaaaaace.) They even speak english. more to the point, they are happy to speak english to me, and the two dont always go together for frenchies. And I bubble along in Spanish. Ohh si si ohh.

Ok thats all for now, will be back tomorrow probably.

Laura: I thought you might have misunderstood what I wrote when you said "hope you settle in ok and find the ambulance indusive..." but then I realised I just should have concentrated in those reading lessons a bit more.

EU: Ah, bugger, i guess you were the guy cunningly disguised in the pink gimp suit who told me about the room. Not kwat naice.

Anna: Hello strangerette. Damn, she's not american is she? thought she was belgian myself. And anyway, you see, um, its not really a complaint is it, really. More of a social commentary with an acadamic bent. Ok, that does sound very dodgy but i think its grammatically correct. How are the latest round of studies treating you?

Rich: I believe I have previously covered the fundamentals of anything I may wish write here i.e. I sent you an email. Mind you computers a bit buggered so if it didnt get thru let me know. In short, good work

And a word to the punks: Punks.