Who Watches The Watchmen?

I fucking will, I'll tell you that. 

Watchmen is a film coming out directed by Zack Snyder, the guy behind the 300's conversion from graphic novel to film. Clearly, he knows what he's doing, and Watchmen is about superheroes gone rogue. Pissed off superheroes is a recipe for an awesome film. It's going to be sweet.

I'm trying to wonder what's happened in my life worth writing about. It's not going too well. My acceptance for this town and my current lifestyle is barely restraining the mounting floods of disgruntlement I feel from crushing it all. Also, caffeine and Wii Fit. That's how fucking cool I am.

Living for the Weekend.

I do so love music. It's all I care about these days. Only place anyone goes is the pub and while the regulars there are decent people (I take them deeply for granted; some of the best you'll know), it's still not my kind of scene. Then again I don't even know what my scene is. Maybe I'm just anti-social. One thing I do know, is that I miss my band. Whilst we're still technically a band, the guitarist and bassist are both at uni. Considering they're both 2 of my very closest friends, this has a bit of an affect on my social life; no band, and two regulars in my social life cut out.

It really doesn't bother me that much to be honest so I don't know why I piss away about it on this blog.

I'm ill. Very ill, or at least I could be if it carries on like this. I'm at the top of a very slippery slope with death at the bottom of it. I'm sure I'll be fine, but it got to me a bit today. There's shit I need to do, and more importantly, people I need to spend more time with before I pop off.

Holy shit Ryan stop moaning.

Tomorrow! Hooray for tomorrow. Tomorrow forever. I'm going to sleep til the evening, and then get up, play Far Cry, throw my PSP out of the FUCKING window if I keep sucking at this game, then watch Being Human at 9:30 on BBCThree (That is a hint, it's fucking amazing), watch Lost at... whatever time I can be bothered, then, Superbowl time, motherfuckers.

Which brings me to point #147 why I want to live in America, right before 'Americans are more dramatic' and right after 'Bigger houses'. I want to watch the Superbowl but I have to stay up until 2:30AM to watch it. Which is shit, really, considering my team isn't in it and I'm not that fussed about the halftime show. North Atlantic Ocean, one day I will crush you, my mortal foe. 

Eggs and Existentialism.

I have eaten far too much food today. Like 8 slices of bread, dinner, 5 cans of pepsi max and then, being the clever little badger that I am, an egg sandwich. I now thoroughly believe I am going to be sick. Again. Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome can fuck itself, truthfully.

I feel strange. Not unhappy as such, but I couldn't call myself happy either. Truth is I feel a bit redundant. Like there's no point. Like 'Boredom the Sequel; Life is Futile'. It feels like boredom but when trying to entertain myself I feel like none of it has a point. I picked up my PSP, and every game felt old; I tried watching the television but all I could see were reruns, and what was the point in that?; I picked up my drumsticks, and felt there was no need. I'm not excited about anything.

So I made a sandwich and that was fun but then I got bored again. Like I said I'm not complaining as such, it's just a strange sensation. Then again I've always had a short attention span. If I'm not experiencing something brand new for the first time then chances are I'm not enjoying myself. Music still serves to inspire a modicum of passion yet I fear that, like an aging gentleman's genitalia, my capacity for stimulation is running out.

On a plus side, that fat little Year 10 kid that runs around calling people a wanker finally called Alun one, like I had hoped. Alun shoved him up against a wall, called him many names, and aforementioned fat child ran back to his classroom. I laughed heartily and we left, satisfied.

Criticicism. And maybe some rambling.

If you don't care about my opinion of things, look away, or press back or something similarly productive. We'll start with television.

Skins. Shit. The characters are poorly written wannabe emulations of the cast of the first series. The only endearing one is Naomi Campbell, and the inner-psychologist in me tells me that it's because I think she's really, really fit. Forgive me.

Secondly, Demons. A supernatural, monster-y drama/action series with Whatshisface Glennister from Life On Mars doing a shitty 1950's Chicago police-officer impression, killing vampires and other stereotypical monsters with an archetypal prettyboy male, generic rebellious female, and some hot blind lady who likes to wear leather. Original, no; Entertaining, yes, in a casual, don't-think-and-it-won't-suck kind of way. Turn off your brain and it may entertain.

Okay, now films. Saw Underworld 3 at it's first showing yesterday because two of my friends are absolute fanboys about the Underworld franchise and particularly the outfit that Kate Beckinsale wears. She wasn't in it, but there was a lot of blood and swords and werewolves and other assorted manliness. Furthermore, I firmly believe that Bill Nighy is the best casting choice for a vampire ever. He carries it perfectly, it's like he was born to do it. Then again he carries every role that well, but whatever. Average film, enjoyable enough to burn the time, with some good action scenes. Just don't take the dramatic dialogue too seriously. 

Unless it's from Bill Nighy. Then I expect you to pay due attention in full, lest he beat you with his godliness.

I rented Hellboy 2 today as well, and that was a shocker. It was really, really good. Excellent, even. Ron Perlman was genius as always, the comedy was spot on and not forced or arbitrary, and the special effects were seriously fucking unbelievable. Don't know else to say about it, but it was awesome.

And now music. Bon Iver's new E.P, Blood Bank. Pure, unwavering beauty. Soaring vocals, seething with raw emotion. Simply unbelievable. Enough of that though.

Daryl Palumbo can do no wrong, Glassjaw & Head Automatica are pure genius. Frank Iero (yes, from MCR) has a decent side-project out called Leathermouth, which is perfectly anti-emo, lots of screaming and punk riffs. 

Rediscovering old-school Outkast too, which is great. Vibrate and Unhappy are awesome. Lot's of stuff to skip though.

All done now.

Inspiration, but I'm too tired...

So Mary Shelley managed to write Frankenstein at 18. If she can pump out a book which influenced the entire romanticist movement and practically started the Gothic literature revolution, I can write Alaska in a year, right? 

I was going to finish my first chapter tonight but I worked out and now I'm too fucking tired. Fuck you, counter-productive productive hobbies.

Is it just me or is my life made out of counter-production? 

Gaming and writing cancel each other out, overeating/laziness and working out do the same, intelligence and general lack of common sense reflect it once again, and my love for sociality, people and beauty is negated by my general cynicism, bile and bitterness. Fun!

Disclaimer; This blog is not actually moany bollocks. I'm fairly happy. I just like complaining.

The Best Thing Anyone Has Ever Said

Salima; "Whats a propaganda? Isn't that a type of fruit?"

No, seriously.

This blog is now about endorphins and their creation.

Anyone know of a good swimming pool for fitness? Preferably one that's close enough to bus to. Only other choices I have for getting fit is running which will get me stabbed or going to the gym, which isn't really my thing. Need swimming.

Justice.

There is none.

Some less than savoury people are in happy relationships while good men suffer in loneliness. Simple as, and I have nothing more to say about it apart from; Fuck you, My Name Is Earl. Karma is a lie.