My Bad New Hobby:

INTERNET LIES. I'm on Soulseek earlier, right, and someone starts downloading the new My Chemical Romance album from me, and, being bored, I decided to start a string of lies to see what they'd believe. Even I was shocked. Click to see the deceit.

Everything's cool with me- had to go for another Criminal Records Board check earlier in the week, I suppose they want to be certain I haven't raped anyone in the six months since my last one. Still, when that comes back according to my contact I can start work straight away. I've been doing some more temping in Laura's office, I'm considering a week or two at the call centre, I'm off to Devon tomorrow to attend the wedding of an old colleague- hope everyone's well!

One Review.

One measly bloody review- and what a wonderful piece of journalism it is. Click it if you actually want to read it. Audrey Jones of the Gwent Gazette- you're a boring old cunt.


EDIT: That's a bit harsh, I know, but she's hardly Hunter S. Thompson, is she?

Heads Up!

Torchwood teasers are popping up regularly on BBC1 now- nothing much to report, just one-second flashes of the logo with a crackly electricity-style sound effect. I'd advise staying tuned after Eastenders tomorrow night (03/10/06).


Or clicking below : )



Not long now, then.

I Met Girls Aloud Today!

Well, when I say "met", I mean "insulted over a live web chat".
Posing as "Sharon from Cardiff".

... and at that point I was kicked off : (

Myspace.com

Honestly, I'm not deluded enough to think that railing against myspace.com is in any way edgy or hip- for the record, I think the myspace-type social networking trend is, in essence a good thing, but the people... must the people wreck everything*?

Pout. Head cocked askance. Practiced, identikit deep-and-meaningful look into the webcam. Username that's so kooky, anyone reading it will instantly go clinically batshit-insane. A profile of interests so studied and considered that the desperation leaps off the screen and down your throat. It's narcissism on a fanatical scale- a yearning to appear individual and fascinating, on an identical form being filled in by millions and millions of other identically unique and rare individual wankers. Find me a myspace profile which doesn't feature these traits, and I will personally leave the author a heartfelt message of thanks and congratulation*. Conversely, if you think I'm wrong, let me know why.

"But Mark, how is your blog so different to all that, you hypocritical prick?"

I'm not clamouring for a longer list of friends, I'm not trying to squeeze myself in to any scene in particular, there's no attempt to look sexier, cooler, deeper or more obscure than thou. This is myspace for me as opposed to a window I can stand in to try and woo passers by with my haircut and excellent taste.

Fuck it, I've dried up.

Myspace.com, yesterday.


*If you're a band or a solo artiste trying to get free publicity for your work then I understand, and you can consider yourself off the shit-list. Also if you work in the sex industry, go in peace.

The Final Curtain...

... went down last night, and I found myself really pleased with how the whole thing went. It was a hard week- I've got myself a temping job in an office (more on the work sitch in a bit) so I've been nine-to-fiving it then hauling ass to the theatre, plastering on minging greasepaint, taping mic leads all over my hairy self and baking under hot lights for three hours, so by the end of each night I've been wrecked- last night though was really euphoric. An enthusiastic audience and a truly pumped cast made it a really special night. Massive thanks to everyone who came to see it over the week- Laura and family, my brother and sister-in-law, Sianni and Ross (a pleasure, Sir), Tre, Sam and everyone else I haven't mentioned. I hope it went down well.
On Wednesday night a face from my past was in the crowd- an old friend from a show ten years ago who's now a Drama teacher at the school where I failed an English interview a few months back. She was very complimentary about my performance and expressed relief that I didn't get the English job- according to her there'll be an opening in her Drama department soon, and she recommended I apply. Of course I'll do just that, but I won't get excited at this point as I've been disappointed by word-of-mouth before.
Now I have to ponder whether or not i want to get involved in the next show. I can say after the event that it's been lovely, but the long rehearsal process and the fatigue of the performance week were a major pain in the anal canal. I'll have a think about it this week- the decision has a lot to do with what the next show is going to be. I was pleased to be involved in Titanic as it wasn't a show I'd seen before- I'll be less eager to get involved if the company intend trotting out some tired ten-a-penny piece of shite next.

Anyway, it was lovely. Some fantastic backstage memories: whiskey, applause, half-time cigarettes, light shining through dust, panic, frozen seconds, campness, new friends, obscene photographs, all good. Everyone involved had to write their own entry for the programme, so I thought I'd post mine, if you're interested. Give it a click for the legible version.


Be Thee Well.
x

Rosenrot, O Rosenrot.

Unemployment is fucking painful. Driving lessons and bills everywhere. It'll be fine, I'm sure- I'm applying for jobs all over the place. If all else fails there's always the call-centre for a while.

SECURITY ISSUE AT SKYWALKER RANCH

Full story here

There's One Word on Everyone's Lips Today.

And it's "Crikey"!

Should've kept it on dry land, Steve.

Let's Laugh at the Stupidity of Others!

I found this discarded shopping list in the supermarket earlier. Go on, click on it, it's brilliant.

1.) MOOSE? You can't buy a Moose in Tesco. In fact, I don't think you can find a Moose in any supermarket, although I haven't tried Aldi in a while.
2.) What the frig is "backlunch"?
3.) Baby food? Oh Christ, it's got a child.
4.) Camel? Cemal? Carel? Fuck knows.

I also particularly enjoy the way the author reminds him/herself of the amount of lightbulbs he/she needs- "10 of them". Lovely.

Yes, I know it's very poor to laugh at the idiots, but Laura and I took the "Test the Nation" I.Q test tonight, and we both did okay although she beat my 115 with her very clever 127 mutter mumble curse.

I Never Learn.

I'd like someone to make a Firefox extension that detects whether or not the user has drunk two bottles of wine, then stops them from posting on their blog if it reads "positive".

ONE MEAL PER DAY

COME ON YOU CUNTS
LET'S HAVE SOME APHEX ACID

Press Coverage

The above article is taken from the Gwent Gazette dated 24/08/06. Click for a bigger, readable version, and hey- how's that for a tasteful headline?

Three Weeks Tonight...

... is Brown Trousers night. Seriously, I'm shitting it. The songs are all out of my range and I haven't learned my lines- nothing new there then, eh? Apparently tickets are going really well and we should have a sell-out, which is good news. After all, the only thing worse than turning in a second-rate performance is turning in a second-rate performance to a half-empty theatre, so at least I'll be fucking it up in front of a healthy crowd. Book now for the sham-dram experience of a lifetime!

Got Engaged.

*Skrit Skrit*

I'm just sort of shaking my head and wondering about this fella, not sure what to make of him. A survivor of some sort of Ichthyosis? Fuck knows. This blog is becoming less about my life and more about me scratching my head wondering what's afflicting others. I'd say "burn victim", but the eyes... Anyway, my life. It was the beautiful Laura's birthday this past weekend, and we celebrated with a day out at one of Britain's most awesome theme-park-cum-animal-sanctuaries, Chessington World of Adventures. A few of the rides were fucked so the theme-park aspect was shit, but we did see some really cool animals, the best of which was the Capybara, world's largest rodent- and look at him, he's fucking massive. That's the sort of rodent you don't want to see sniffing around your bins, he'd chew your fucking arm off. Unless of course you lived in a well-known Capybara area, in which case you wouldn't even be checking your bins without some sort of recoil-free firearm. Can you tell my heart's not in this post somehow? I sure can. Driving lesson yesterday, I'm getting better. Missed a few Titanic rehearsals what with Laura's birthday and whatever, my dicky back's been playing up a bit. Moan, moan, moan, fuck, I bore myself sometimes. I was planning something special for Laura's birthday, but it didn't quite happen- it will, and I'll keep you posted.

(Harri are you okay, Harri are you okay, are you okay Harri?)

Wii vs PS3 Spoof

This exactly sums up why I'm really looking forward to owning the new Nintendo console. Cheap and fun.

I Hate Being Away!

Because I've only just noticed this:



I don't like the plain blue suit one little bit. Of course, a lot of that has to do with the fact that I know I could never get away with it like The Doctor will, effortlessly.

Pic from the BBC site, of course.

Summer?

I just don't know how to start this, and I sure as fuck won't be bothered spellchecking when it's over, so sorry in advance. To begin with, let me tell you about last Thursday. I was supposed to be flying myself out to Amsterdam as I've done each year since the millennium, to shake off the horrors of the year and "get in touch" with myself, but, if you're a UK denizen then you'll know that last week some fucking idiot wanna-be amateur bombsmiths with a ridiculous fucking axe to grind had some other ideas. These "bombers" may or may not have even existed- I don't trust the news, I don't trust what I'm told on screen or in print, I never have, all I know is that some argument I have FUCK ALL to do with has gypped me out of a solid four days of blissful intoxicated partying... fuck, let me set the scene for you. I awoke at 0600 last Thursday and the first thing I see is these cunts on the left, telling me there's been some sort of "mild terror alert", dressing it up in their stupid fucking GMTV safe morning-friendly smile-talk while I'm thinking "ah Christ, delays then", so I set out, I get to the airport with with time to spare (a feat in itself, of which I was proud) to find fucking bedlam. Bedlam and Babylon. People lining up for hour after hour, British humanity in all it's glory, waiting it's turn, dreading the bad news. It was a massive disorganised funeral. Everyone knew they wern't getting where they going, but everyone was too damn British to make a fuss. A classic example of queuing at it's best. Right, bollocks, I'm not going to whinge about my missed holiday anymore because I'm bored of it, and at least I had one or two good nights fuelled out of sheer frustration and anger (hey, maybe it's not your thing, but if you're in Bristol and you're off your mash on ecstasy pipes and you've got nothing better to do, maybe you should enjoy the fifteen-floor superclub that is Oceana. My thanks go to Owen and Captain Crunch, whether they read this or not, for the textual and moral support).

Anyway.
No more moaning.

On to the positive. I've had a few driving lessons, which have been fun. I'm shit thus far, my clutch control is fucking awful and it's entirely my own fault, but at least I'm making up at last for leaving it this late. A big welcome to any newcomers who've posted comments recently, it doesn't go unnoticed. I appreciate any and all feedback, be it red, white, blue or black ; )

Marko
x

FISH WITH HUMAN TEETH

Full, terrifying story here.

School Stuff

Interesting article about Pen Y Dre here.

"Hey, Nice Shoes!"

I had to pop to the supermarket earlier, and outside were two young lads playing about. As I walked past, one of them called to me "Hey, nice shoes"!
That put a big smile on my face, so a big thanks to those two kids and also to Osiris.

How Much Lewis Can The Internets Handle?

Looks like there's another Lewis with a blog- it's still in it's fledgling stages, but What Up Jarge is up and running. This is a picture of the protagonist enjoying five consecutive pasties.

Dum, Dum-Dum Derrrrrrrrr..... NER-NER!

That's how the theme tune from "Mastermind" goes. And hey, I should fucking know, because I heard it plenty of times last Saturday. What it is, right, is that I went along to the BBC Cymru studios in Cardiff to see a taping of the all-new Mastermind Cymru- just like the English version except it's in Welsh. Which I don't speak. I went, you see, to cheer on my good friend Huw, who was a contestant- his specialism was the television work of one Alan Partridge, and although he didn't win, he only lost on passes to a freak whose specialism was the Kray twins. I mean, would I be allowed to get on Mastermind with Hindley and Brady as my specialist subject? Or Jeffrey Dahmer, the Milwaukee Cannibal? Probably not. So, I scream "bollocks" and retain Huw as the victor in my eyes. After the taping (which did go on for ages thanks to host Betsan Powys frigging it up all the time, fucking amateur) we headed back to see good ol' Gavo (we being Harri, Sian and I), had a bit of a session and heard all about his trip to Rome. Nice.

In other news, I absolutely fucking hate the following: school, summer, the Earth's sun, the Tesco corporation, that song about the girl who wishes she was a punk rocker with flowers in her hair, having to wait a week for the conclusion to last week's Doctor Who, maggots, stinging nettles, waiting for the summer holidays, and writing school reports.

That is all.

Sigh.

Nothing eloquent sorry folks, just reporting that I didn't get the job. Again. Starting to feel like a right cunt now.

A Right Cunt, Yesterday

Interview Time Again.

Tuesday, in a school quite close by. I'll say no more.

Hang on, I haven't told you about "Titanic" yet, have I? Here goes then- I've gone and gotten myself roped into taking a role in a local production of "Titanic- The Musical". First thing to point out is that it has nothing whatsoever to do with Titanic, the 1997 James Cameron film.

I thought my shady musical theatre days were behind me, but I was asked by a teacher in my current school to fill in for someone who'd fallen ill, so I thought I'd do it to raise my profile a bit and to get some favours owed- it can't hurt, I suppose. Well, bollocks actually, it can- the part is quite big and is in the tenor range, which is bloody high for my rumbling, manly voice. Plus it's in the first weeks of September, so I'll have a lot of rehearsing to do over my summer bloody holidays. On the plus side, it's for a company I've performed with before about ten years ago, and everyone's really pleased to see me and is giving it the "ooh haven't you grown" routine, which is putting a smile on my face in spite of myself. Come and see it if you want, it'll be comedy if nothing else.

I'll update following my interview- if you see another short chapter of disjointed fiction you'll know it didn't go well : )

x

("Hiya" to Karen and Sian!)

Thought You Might Like This Picture.

I love the way it takes the familiar image of Mario's eternal quest and gives it just the tiniest tweak of perspective- a tweak that changes the image into something bleak and, I reckon, quite heartbreaking.

Poor bastard, he does such a fantastic job.
(Click for bigger version)

Okay, Here We Go-

See, it starts off nice and respectable. New suit, tie, lovely day, all smiles. Then the pints start flowing, the tie comes off and the fun starts. I'm not normally a nationalist, but if you put a few pints in me and surround me with family, an English flag is like a red rag to a bull, so we'll get rid of that, thank you very much. Things get more and more vague after that. I think there was some of the usual horseplay between Big Lew and Me, but all you really need to know is that this is the end result:

A lovely day was had by all.

My Dad's Wedding

Look, I weent to my Dad's weddngtoday, and I;'ve got lods of pictures,and I'd like to pit them up but I'm too fuckojng wrecked. Tomooroworw I'll put them u[pm aloing with some video, but right now I can';;t be arsed. Sufficew to say I had a reallly nice adfy, Seeyyou tommoreww,

x

Oh Come On Satan You Tedious Cunt.

Alright, everyone knows that you missed a trick with the Millenium. That would have been an ideal time to rise from your firey pit and overthrow a confused and panicky humanity, but nothing happened. No Millenium Bug, no plague of boils, in fact there was no grand gesture on your part at all.
"Fine", I thought at the time, "he certainly won't miss the really big date coming up in six years or so".
I should've known better. It's now nearly half four on the sixth of the sixth, oh-bloody-six, and it's starting to look like you've stood me up again, you complete prick! I mean, what are you thinking? Have you totally lost your flair for the Grand Guignol? Everyone knows you're slowly winning the battle anyway, what with the decline of the moral standard, the corruption of youth, the war, the murder, the blah blah blah, but come on, couldn't you just this once have said "oh, fuck the long game" and given us a bit of spectacle? I mean, look!

It's like your very own version of the Bat-signal, shining into the midnight sky that is man's damnation, and you can't even be arsed to show your scaly face. Well, I'm almost out of patience. If you don't show up on the ninth of the ninth two thousand and nine, then let me tell you, it's over.

It Won't Always Be This Amateurish. Promise.

Right- Does the sound work for you?
Is the lyp-synch lined up okay?
Is it a waste of time?

Death Imitating Art?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

I

Ryan opened the window, squinted, blinked.
Rain.
After a night like that any weather would have seemed magnificent, but rain... well. Rain was perfect.
Without giving his mind a chance to wander, Ryan turned himself back into the room and in one liquid movement dressed in the blink of an eye.
Purpose, action, motion.
A cigarette and no toast for breakfast and he was outside, keys, change and all. Diving into the street, striving toward purpose, replacing reason with feedback and concentrating on the imperative- If you stop, you fail.
Wet through, steam coming out his nose like Taurus.
Old, wet faces cursed his passing with mutters and oaths, his image in the raindrops the only proof he ever existed. Move, don't think. If you stop, you fail.

Destination. Resolution. Happenstance and kismet.

All things considered? Good day for a funeral.

I can sum it all up in just one word.

"Bringbackborstal".

Time.

Maybe it's that the new series of Doctor Who is in full swing, but I find it very cool that later on tonight, in the early hours of Thursday morning, the time will read:

01:02:03, 04/05/06.

It can't be just me, surely that's really very cool indeed?

Anyway, in other news, I have an interview on Monday. I won't post any more details until it's over so as not to invite the jinx-monkey in. Had a lovely bank holiday weekend with Harri and the Aber crew, but like a cock I forgot my camera, so no pics sorry. Another time.

Hope everyone's well.

Lewis.

I wouldn't normally do this.

The new TOOL single has been leaked, so here's a link if you give a stuff. If you're reading this then you probably already know how full of shit I am about bands that I love, but trust me, it's really fucking good.
If the TOOL news doesn't interest you, have a picture of Laura's dog instead:

Either way, don't say I never give you anything.
Oh, and nearly forgot- It seems we have a reader in China!

Who's this grumpy girl, then?

Nostalgia?

An on-the-spot, heat-of-the-moment post for you here, folks. To 'fess up, all day today I've been feeling nostalgic as hell. I've been going through pictures on my hard drive, sorting stuff into folders and just sort of shooting the shit with myself, remembering old times and sighing a little bit over a bottle of wine. I've also been looking for reviews of Therapy?'s new album, "One Cure Fits All", and I realised that I didn't have the live CD from Scopophobia on my hard drive, so I went and dug it out. As I opened the case, what fell out?














(Click for bigger version)

A picture that perfectly sums up everything I've been feeling mardy about today. I must have stuck it in there for safekeeping during the move from Swn-Y-Don two years ago.

I think a frame is in order.

Hiya to Rob J, Kara and De Chikken.

Marko
x

I make no apologies.

We are who we are. Some people get excited over football. Some people take interest in politics, still more watch the world of celebrity and gaze into the fishbowl of fame to pass the time away. Me? I like accidents of nature. So hush now, steel thyselves, draw back the curtain and feast your eyes.
A few days ago (March 29th) in Nepal, someone gave birth.... to this:

Fuck me. According to www.kantipuronline.com, "the bizarre baby... died after half an hour of its birth", which is understandable. What eludes me, though, is why Dad is parading the poor fucker through the streets in a potty:

You've gotta love it. My first thought was "Fuck me, it's Frank Sidebottom".
Good, eh?
In other news, school is very testing (I caught the little fuckers throwing frogs at each other earlier. You read that right), but a lovely fortnight off is fast approaching. Hope everyone's well.
Have fun, freak fans!
Lewis
x

Time for an old classic, I think:

Here we go, folks: Ulli's Roy Orbison In Clingfilm Website. A proper oldie-but-goodie.

They did it.

I can't believe they fucking did it. Goodbye the man. Goodbye the legend. Goodbye Tony Almeida.
I promise this is the last 24-related post I'll write, as I appreciate it might be tedious for those of you who don't watch the show. I never thought they'd do it, but they actually went and did it.


Almeida24@hotmail.com

Perspective.

At the start of this term, I got a long-term placement teaching pupils who've been permanently excluded from mainstream school. I'm teaching (or attempting to teach) kids with severe behaviour and learning difficulties, and all term I've been getting home and thinking "fuck, those kids are a total and complete waste of skin, what cunts". Then today I found out that one of my pupils' fathers is in prison for murdering someone with a shotgun a few years ago. Another girl (fifteen) has been sleeping around on her estate for money. Whatever grief I get off these pupils (and I do, believe me- it's been nothing but "queer, gay, dickhead, queer" all term) I have to realise, sat here in my comfy chair in front of my broadband, in my house with my Xbox and my PSP and my girlfriend and my cafetiere and my two jobs and my paycheques, that circumstance is all that seperates the best of us from the worst. I could be them, and they could be me. It's nothing but blind luck that gives us our start in life. We have no choice in what soil we're sown. I must keep my sense of humour, and look to happenstance for a reason why some things are they way they are.

RIP Edgar Stiles

He loved his Mom.

Don't Be Like Mark.

Mark is a professional fucking dickhead.

Craniopagus Parasiticus.

Say the words to yourself once or twice. Ten syllables. Cranio-pagus Para-siticus. The biological equivalent of finding an extra large and deformed M&M in your packet. Twins, but wrong. A human life, twisted by a matter of womb-inches, to the status of a tumour with a face. Insane ethical questions. The stubby bit has reflexes and a seperate personality- introduce a bottle to its mouth, and it sucks. It remains awake while the host sleeps. Without its own heart or respiratory system it has no hope of independant survival- it's just a head, after all. But is it human? Is it a person? The entity as a whole- two people, or one with a noteworthy addition, like a third nipple or extraneous thumb? Medical intervention is mandatory, as one heart can't support that much matter, but should the approach focus on excision of the alien mass, or prolonging the survival of the entity as a whole? Given time and care, could the extra head be capable of learning? Is it sentient? And if so, would a surgical procedure to remove it qualify as excision or infanticide?
Craniopagus Parasiticus. Two heads aren't always better than one.

You want WHAT?!?!

You want to know what I'm listening to, as I'm listening to it? You want to be able to see what sort of music I listen to, and when? You want charts of my most popular artists, and a breakdown of when I listen to them most? Better go here then, and make sure to leave a message in my shoutbox telling me you came from my blog. I'd recommend Audioscrobbler to anyone, it gets more interesting the more you play with it. The only downside happens when your girlfriend plays Kelly Clarkson on your PC and puts a blemish on your oh-so-cool and eclectic listings. Hey-ho.

My Name is Janet Morgan.

I am filthy. Something happened to me before I became this way, something that my mind has chosen to not let me remember. I can only guess what it might have been- a brother carved up by the mob? A mother raped by a gang of mental patients before my infant eyes? A beloved pet, kidnapped and mailed to me piece by piece? Who knows? Not I. One thing however, is sure. I am bar none the most hate-filled, loathsome, dry and unloving motherwhore on the face of this fuckbecursed rock, and wherever I see the promise of good or the potential to prosper then I pour my bile over the seed as quick as I can to suffocate and immolate any hope of a brighter future. Underneath these drab garments of scratchy hessian my skin is as parchment- a thin, transparent firmament that barely holds my herniated and prolapsed organs in place. So lucent is this film that each heartbeat would be visible were I naked- each spasm of life can be seen pushing its way through my veins, the black ichor that I call blood can be seen forging its way through the courses of my foul being, working its way ever onward toward the black spasming mass of tumour that I call a heart. My name is Janet Morgan. Run me down with your car. Find my home, and mail me posthaste gifts of burning turd. My name. Is Janet. Morgan.

What do you think?

War casualty? Botched suicide? Act of a vengeful God?
Or "other"?
This site's nearly a year old, so do please join me in a big fucking yippee.
Another year passed, and we're still waiting for The Rapture.

IMPORTANT NEWS

Here.

Sweet, sweet snow.

Today so far:

06:30- Yawn, swear, shower.
06:50- Coffee, toast, cigarette.
07:00- Shirt, tie, shiver.
07:15- Phonecall to say school’s closed. Snow Day.
07:20- Bed.

The day's my oyster!

I think being greeted by shock snow of a morning is one of the lovliest things possible (Check here for evidence).

In other news, things are okay. Been teaching Geography, History, a bit of IT, been working at BT in the evenings... I regret now ever moaning about not being busy, the days are reaaaally long at the moment and I'm dead on my feet half the time, but this is what needs to be done.

Will post over the weekend.

Marko
x

PS- George Best, right? Now, I'm no football fan, but the news really does need to sort itself out. As I write, the telly's on in the background saying that Best's in his final hours. They were saying that last night. They also said it a fortnight ago. I remember the same sort of thing going on with Yasser Arafat and Pope John Paul II. Is it too much to ask to wait until someone's actually dead before reporting their demise? I know I'd be livid if people went around talking about my last minutes before I'd actually croaked, for all anyone knows the fucker could be back down the pub by lunchtime- after all, stranger things have happened.

RIP Eddie Guerrero

1967-2005

A Quickie.

Went to see Hamlet at the New Theatre last weekend. Verdict: bizarre casting, an over-long second half but still Hamlet so still enjoyable. BT has been an ordeal, re-training has been difficult to stomach, but the supply work is still coming in- I'm working in Merthyr tomorrow and Thursday. I've had some really encouraging news from the school where I did my first placement, in that the Drama teacher there is leaving and wants me to have dibs on her job for awhile. I await further news from her with baited breath. I'm shocked to say I've been sticking to the gym programme with Anthony. The day after our first session I couldn't believe the pain I was in, I literally couldn't lift my arms without agony, but that was a few weeks ago and it's gotten a lot easier. I'm even starting to see some results. As I said earlier, I'm teaching tomorrow so I'm losing the beard, but I want this photo to serve as a tribute to the beardiest I've ever been- it itched, but I loved it and I look forward to breaking the record next chance I get:

"Hawkmen! DIIIIVE!"

December's nearly here. My favourite month. I hope everyone's well.
Marko
x

Reasons I love being a nerd #4035

This is fantastic. Yesterday I went along to a booksigning by Russell T Davies in Waterstones on the Hayes in Cardiff. He was signing copies of Doctor Who- The Shooting Scripts, so I went along and got in line. As you could expect there were a few muppets who'd come along in costume, but for the most part it was a far less tragic affair than I'd expected. I got talking to some other fans in the queue, picked up some interesting info about filming locations and such, and enjoyed the atmosphere a lot. RTD was an absolute gent- he was happy to pose for pics (clicky) and I was over the moon when he laughed at the dedication I requested (clickety). There was a real, live Dalek in the foyer (clickaroonie) which was exterminating a lot of people, but luckily I got away before it could disintegrate me.
In other news- it's a bit of a shitter, but as of tomorrow I start part-time work at the BT call centre in Cardiff. I'll be doing evenings, which will keep me free to do supply teaching as and when it comes in. The pay from teaching has been fine so far, it's just not been anywhere near frequent enough to give me the regular income I'm depending on to keep paying rent while Laura studies, so although lame it's just a means to an end, and better the devil you know etc etc. Also tomorrow night I start going to the gym with my brother Anthony who you met a few updates ago. He wants to lose some bulk and I'd like to get a bit of definition (ooh, get me) so it's a good idea for both of us. No doubt it'll be a different story tomorrow night when I'm aching and being a big pussy, but for now at least it sounds good.
Finally, the first in a semi-regular feature here on my blog- Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you- BEARDWATCH!

30/10/05- Quite Beardy.
All the best everyone- more soon.
Marko
x

Nice weekend, that.

Spent it in Aber and got up to lots. Went for a nice meal and to the pub, played Pictionary, saw Rob and Kara, suffered cat-induced asphyxia and got myself into a bit of a state. Some pics- Deano protests against "camp" allegations. James seems disgusted at my Pictionary skills. Old Gregg is The Adjudicator. Harri with a glint in her eye and a cloud in her mouth. If any of you should come across a copy of Bizarre magazine on your travels, there's a reader of this blog somewhere in the first half of the magazine. Prizes awarded to whoever names him/her. Finally, everyone do me a favour- touch the screen below and whisper the mantra "good luck Rob J" three times:

Thanks very much. See you soon.
Marko
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Look!

A signed photo of Adam West!
Cheers Tre.
Off to Aber for the first time in a few months on Friday, which'll be lovely.
Easy
Lewis

Drinking Strongbow with Mother Nature

Hi all. I'm writing this through a bit of a hangover- I spent a few hours last night at Bryn Bach park (Tredegar's only area of natural beauty), hanging around with my brother while he was night-fishing. Of course, "night-fishing" is a euphemism for "drinking cider", and after seven cans of The Bow I was hammered (and nearly took a dip in the lake, apparently). Still, as this blurry picture shows, it was a lovely picturesque night, and it felt good having a night of fresh air without the TV or PC in front of me. I recommend it heartily. More later in the week.
x

Adventures in Babysitting

Fantastic! Work seems to be coming my way, finally. Today I did some supply work in a nearby school which I shan't name, as it's at ground zero in the current South Wales e-coli shitstorm. It feels really, really good to get back into it- the longer I went without work, the more my self-confidence started slipping away and the less likely it was starting to look that I'd want to do it when the opportunity finally arose, but not to worry. It felt lovely being back in front of a class, and I've got more work tomorrow at the same school. After a conversation with my agency yesterday I've found that I was missing a certain form that I needed to fill out to register with the relevant body for Welsh teachers, that's now done and things are looking altogether more positive. It was fun teaching a few different subjects today- starting the day in a technology workshop (bandsaws, lathes and all) then relocating to an IT room then a physics lab was hilarious, especially during the times I'd quietly remind myself that I know fuck all about any of those subjects. Each teacher left lesson plans though, luckily, and the main challenge of the job was maintaining order in a roomful of children who've never clapped eyes on me before, let alone had a few beers and a reefer with me to see how decent I am. The first lesson this morning was a bit rough, a year-ten group on something called the "new start" programme (read: thick-as-fuck reprobates) who pretty much ripped me a new arse. The rest of the day was busy but pleasant enough, and most of the pupils got most of the work done, which is good enough for me (well, I got invited back so I can't have fucked up too badly, at least not yet). Funniest moment of the day? Pupil- "Had you' lip done 'ave you, Sir"? Me- "A while ago, yes". Pupil- "OHMYGOD Sir, you wasn't gothic, was you"? Kids, eh?! More soon.
Marko
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Hi, I'm Barry Scott....

And I'm here to tell you about Mark's Blog!
Hi all! It's been a long, eventful, stressful and (ultimately) cool few months since I last had the means to post. Let's sum-up what's been going on....
Well, first, there was the traumatic business of leaving Aberystwyth. After spending nearly a decade in the place I was really torn up having to finally kiss it goodbye. I knew it was necessary and unavoidable, but damn it really stung to look at my empty flat (formerly Harri's) with my life in boxes and bags. What made it even more difficult was the fact that I was moving back to Gwent, to the county I grew up in and, as a hot-headed youth, swore I'd never return to. Things felt weird to start with- the place hasn't changed a bit, I see old schoolfriends around the streets and it feels a little bit like some fucked-up timewarp where I've aged but no-one else has. I'm over the (lack of) culture shock now and I've settled back in, but it was very odd and quite upsetting for a while there. Laura's started her course, and is knee-deep in legalese every night, reading impenetrable law texts and memorising dense regulations and rules in preparation for her future in contract law- massive respect to her for driving back and forth Cardiff every day (just under an hour from here) and still having the stamina to read for hours each night.
Everything else has fallen into place piece by piece. I'm registered with two supply-teaching agencies, and start each morning sitting by the telephone waiting for work to come in. There's been nothing at all thus far, but as both the agencies and my brother have told me the first weeks of term are slow for supply teachers due to everyone being fresh after the holidays. My contacts at the agency have assured me that as term progresses work starts to come in regularly, and I've been told to prepare to be inundated as the weeks progress. Work can't come quick enough- I'm gagging to get back into a classroom, and the last thing I want is to have to get a non-educational job after the year I put into the PGCE. Having the sweet, sweet internet back is a boost- a big thanks to Wanadoo for pulling their e-thumbs out of their e-arseholes and switching this address on after a month of lies and diversionary tactics.
Some pics of the house- this was the scary emptiness that greeted us when we moved in, but when we got all our stuff in and built a bunch of furniture things started taking shape. I'll get some more pics of the finished place for a future update, but for now I'll nick off by saying it's nice to get back online and if you're reading still, you have my thanks.
Marko
PS: Odd little fact here- take a look at Barry Scott at the top of this post. Did you know that he doesn't exist? For reasons known only to the Cilit Bang corporation, "Barry Scott" is actually an actor called Neil Burgess, playing someone called Barry Scott. I mean, what the fuck? Why Barry Scott? Is the name supposed to mean something? It confuses the shit out of me why they'd invent a persona like that, then have him introduce himself by name as if we're supposed to know who he is.... I don't understand, and I'm certainly not buying Cilit Bang on the say-so of some weird-ass non-human Troy-McClure-style advertising crypto-personality. Anyway, laters.
x

No way!

Leisuretown is back, from out of nowhere, after years in the ether. If you give a fuck about anything, go and read it all right now. Laura and I have found a house, and I've found work. We move to Ebbw Vale on the 20th of this month, and I start supply teaching in Merthyr a few weeks after. I'm currently at my brother's home in Tredegar, house-sitting for him while he's away on holiday, looking after his dogs and abusing his broadband and home-brew. My own PC imploded a fortnight ago (with a years worth of photos and music, motherfucker), hence the total lack of updates. The fact that I haven't updated, along with the reappearance of the aforementioned Leisuretown means that I can no longer justly claim this site to be the best on the internet. That's cool, though, the internet's a big place and there's no shame in second best. Back soon.

(P.S: Leisuretown)

Hello!

Remember me? A delay in posting just means I've had loads to do, so there's more to end up posting about, y'get meh? I've been snapping away and doing loads, and there's an update on the way if not tomorrow then certainly before the weekend. As a stopgap, here's the first picture released so far of David Tennant in character as the new Doctor Who:

Absolutely lovely!

Laters
Marko

Aaah, that's better.

Let's see if I can get through an entire post without being a sulky drunken wanker then, shall we? Shouldn't be a problem- it's been a really nice few days. First and foremost, on Friday night Laura and I went to the closing party for the BT call centre that we both used to work at (and where we first met, incidentally, when I began my calculated and cynical campaign of stealing her from her then-fiancee, HA). As anyone who's worked in a call centre will tell you, it's a fucking awful job. Anyone who's worked in one for four years will also attest that after awhile it really impacts on how you live your life- even now, a year after leaving the place, I can't hear a town name without instantly reciting the county it's in. Anyway, it was a far better night than anyone was predicting- caught up with lots of old workmates and had a pretty grand night. Laura was the most gorgeous girl by far, of course, for at least two reasons, hehe.
The weekend got even better with a night out with Harri and James, who were up for the weekend. It was a rare treat to see them both, and good to see that James has finally ditched the Lawrence Llewelyn-Bowen look for a nice, manly crew-cut (LOL, ROFL, et fucking cetera*). Things didn't stop there, though- on Sunday, Laura and I were barbeque tourists, having been invited to two different houses for smoky, meaty treats in the sun. Both were a lot of fun, with Bez and her husband Pete being predictably lovely hosts at their home and with Colin having the king of all games consoles at his (by the way, if you want to see what Bez gave birth to a month ago, click here for severe and gratuitous cuteness). So, a no-messing fun-as-fuck weekend then. I'm having no joy on the job front, however, although I'm waiting on an application I put in to a school in Newport and am checking the net every day. I actually signed on this week because I'm broke as fuck- if I get no joy from the 'port I'll cast my net out and start looking for some non-teaching stuff, because we're moving to Cardiff at the end of next month and as much as I'd like 'em to, landlords don't tend to give out properties for free. See you next update!

(* photos taken without permission from http://Harri80.blogspot.com)

Truth

This is my blog, isn't it? This is my personal little bit of webspace, yes? This is the place to pour it out if I need to... isn't it? Okay then. Forget what the time says at the bottom of this post, it's 05:33 by my watch. I've been up all night drinking and thinking, and I keep coming back to the freaky-as-fuck fact that I'm terrified of the future. Petrified. My fear is holding me back. Fear. Of what? What the fuck am I scared of? What's stopping me from dropping the ballast and flying? Why can't I exist on my own? What's forcing me to cling to redundant relationships that suffocate my growth? Why do I still feel so fucking weak after I've proved myself stronger than I ever thought I could be? Click "publish" and be damned, Lewis.
EDIT: Let this be a lesson to you all- posting to the internet while drunk ruins lives

WTF???!?

This summer seems intent on getting madder and madder- this week I won two VIP passes to the Tribal Gathering festival in Luton next weekend, in a prize draw on Radio One that i didn't even realise I'd entered! I don't really know what to expect or whether I want to go or not, but free VIP passes sounds too good to turn down... The line-up looks alright and it goes on until 0600 on the Sunday, so I'll have a mental time, no doubt... Looks like it's back on the crazy train next weekend, then! In other news, Orla Keighly addict and couture fetishist Harri is up this weekend, which'll be lovely as I haven't seen her since leaving Gav's. Things are pretty sweet really, eh?
Lewis
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Amsterdamage.

Wanna hear all about my holiday? I think you do. As anyone who's gone there will tell you, coming home from Amsterdam isn't a pleasant feeling. It's now Thursday, I got back on Monday and I'd still go back in an instant. Well, next year, eh? Okay, it's travelogue time. First, the airport. We had something like a five-hour wait to check in because we... wait a minute, I should first explain who "we" is.
This is Rob J, who you saw last a few updates ago. We were going to be going with his other half Kara, but it ended up with just the two of us. Anyway, a five hour wait at Birmingham airport means your fun is limited for a few hours (hence this sort of malarky), but we got there soon enough, fucking tired and grotty. See, fatigue isn't a luxury we could really afford, because that very night we had tickets for Grand Buffet and Sage Francis at the Melkweg, so we had to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed cuz we'd been looking forward to this one for months. No fucking worries, though- as soon as we got our smoke on and got to the club it was just uproar all the way. I've never been to such a superb, intimate venue- for hip-hop it was perfect, you could hear, see and feel everything. Grand Buffet were on first, and they were fucking awesome- like a two-man Beastie Boys, but with a sense of humour and a shitload more energy- these pictures give you some idea of the size of the venue- there's no zoom on them at all, and that was squeezed against the back wall. They're so damn blurry because the fuckers wouldn't ever, ever keep still- this was kinetic, high-energy rap, hilarious, well-observed lyrics and loads of audience participation and ass-shaking beats. The fact we'd been up for thirty-or-so hours meant shit at this point cuz we were buzzing like flies (cool note: Grand Buffet were hanging out after the show as well, Rob and I met them, got our shit signed and chatted for a while, which is a very cool way to handle yourself indeed- I want these guys to get huge, they fucking deserve it). Next up was Sage, who devastated the room (again, apologies for the shaky pics), with his Rasputin-style beard and gown, spitting fantastic tracks from A Healthy Distrust and making each member of the audience feel involved- no shit folks, this was a superb, underground and hardcore evening. Rob and I felt like hardcore soldiers, man, underground cross-planet travellers, soldiers in the truth army of beats, rhymes and life. Well, we were pretty fucked up by this point. A little word about where whe stayed. I've been to 'Dam each year since '01, and each time since '02 I've stayed here, the loveliest campsite in the whole world. No pressure, holidaymakers from all over the world, cheap, basic and clean cabins, really close to the tram terminal... perfection. What makes it for me, though, is the fact that it's right next to a half-pipe and a local graffiti spot- each year I've gone back the art has gotten better and better, and this year it was astounding- I mean, check this shit out. Intricate detail, wide, sprawling works, humour... Just superb, all of it. We had plans to see Nine Inch Nails later in the holiday, but we spent such a lot of time getting wrecked and boozing in as many places as possible that it never happened- I'll live. With_Teeth was pretty mediocre in retrospect, and the forty-minute train ride to the German border just didn't appeal.
The last few hours of the holiday were spent in the traditional all-out smoke-off, desperately nailing as much quality skunk as possible to get rid of it all before the plane- we succeeded, of course. So, here I am, back in blighty. I've got a few weeks of summer-school teaching lined up next month (thanks to a tip-off from the resouceful, helpful and generous Miss. Cope), but right now all I'm doing is taking stock and watching my tan fade. Same time next year, I think.
My thanks for reading this far, and here's a last holiday image for you:

Good times man, good fucking times.
Laters
Marko
x

Hardcore Uproar

In a few hours I'm off on holiday, just thought I'd post some pics of last night, on the piss with some fellow teachers for the last time:

(not sure what I'm pointing at there^)

Me and the unstoppable John Sherringham

Ended up having a smoke with some total strangers. Love it.
I got a big, fat "A" grade for the coursework I was stressing over last month, and my tutor had some really nice things to say. I'm over the moon, in short, hangover or not.

An Ending.

Okay, so it's over then. I've been delaying writing here because I didn't want to give any glib, stupid responses to a really important two weeks that, by and large, I pretty much ballsed up. After getting back to Gav's afer Easter I was just pushing toward the finishing line- I got a really positive assessment from my visting tutor, I had a last rehearsal or two with the Heroin Lies crew and had a week to go when it got too much to deal with. Not just the course, but everything I've been pissed off with since it started- two buses and a lift every morning, feeling isolated, being tired, am I sounding like a whining little bitch? Not sure I care. It got too much. I missed most of the last week, and that's tantamount to flipping a finger at the department that I've been in for the last four months. I don't think I've done anything that'll stop me from passing, but I've certainly burned a bridge or two with my tutors at my placement school, which I am quite gutted about. It's nothing I'm going to go into here, but I enjoyed my time at that school and there are at least two reasons why the Drama department's as good as it is. Seriously, that school is pretty rough, but pupils who cause mad havoc in other lessons chill the fuck out in Drama, and have done for me as well as the established staff there. It's an ace example of a school that takes the subject seriously.
I've seen Batman Begins and Sin City by now, as well as
fucking Star Wars Episode III (three times, two in the cinema and once with gav on dodgyvision), and I feel really spoiled- I mean come on, look at the year we've had as media consumers- Nathan Barley (fuck you, Cook'd and Bomb'd, I loved it), an amazing new Doctor Who (both kisses at the end floored me), new Batman, Sin City, Star Wars, Hitchhikers... I don't know, hollow treats with soft centres maybe, but it's been a good year thus far.
I'm off now. I'll post before my holiday, but if anyone wants to post a casting idea for the role of The Joker in Batman Begins II I'd love to hear it. What'll they call it? Batman Carries On?

Unwinding.

So, that was half-term then. It feels so strange to think that I've got just two weeks to go of this course, two weeks of teaching before I leave Tonypandy, leave Gav's house and move on to the next step, whatever that may be. Another two jobs in the area have come up and been applied for, but to be honest I'm not half as worried as I have been about not walking straight into a teaching post- as the mighty Harri says, grabbing the first job in panic will just lead to despair in the long run, and I'd much rather get something else in the meantime (or even temp, for fuck's sake), if it means I can take my time and find a place that's right.
"But Mark", I hear no-one ask, "how did you spend your half-term"? Well, the highlight was spending three days with Rob and Kara at their new house in Llanfuck-knows outside Aberystwyth. They told me the location was remote, and Christ they weren't joking. Hayley and I spent ages looking for the place, although it was worth it- the surroundings are remote, yeah, but when this and this is the view from your bedroom window, stress becomes a memory. It was Rob's birthday, so there was a lot of drinking, horseplay and general fun, along with another old and really good friend of ours, Stotty (whose band Captain are well worth your listening time). Altogether a lovely week. I'm unwound and chilled, and I get to finally see the Sin City movie tomorrow, after refusing offers of bootlegs to wait for the whole cinematic experience. A fanboy's life is fraught with self-sacrifice and denial, but the payoff is always sweet indeed.

At ease.
x

'Bye Tatum!

I wish I had the intellects of Einstein and Hawking combined. I wish I had enough knowledge of physics and space-time to be able to answer the question: "why the fuck is this day dragging so badly"? There's nothing different about today, technically there's nothing's changed about the orbit of the Earth and the working of my chronometer, so why is it only second period when my insides tell me I've been here today for about a fortnight? Oh, wait, that's it- It's the last day of term. On another note, there's been another Drama student here for the last few weeks, and today's her last day so if you read this Tates- I honestly don't think I'd have hacked it these past weeks if you hadn't been around to lift my mood, so thanks for that and I hope the rest of your course goes superbly, which I'm sure it will. Bye!

The abyss gazes also into you.

Oh fuck, all I want to do is QUIT. The only thing I've ANY desire to do right now is to just. Fucking. QUIT. There's less than three weeks of teaching left, but I feel as though I never want to do another day, another lesson. It'd be a terrible and inexcusable shame to pack it in now, when the year is close to being over... But it'd almost be worth it just to be able to let this out in one totally self-destructive way or another. I am on the ground, a twenty-six year old man in front of a keyboard on the verge of tears. I know I'm the melodramatic sort, I know my language is full of hyperbole and I often come across at totally full of shit, but I'm being as cool and unemotional as I can right now and still, my confidence is in tatters, I'm tired, my head is spinning trying to keep track of all the things I'm supposedly shit at and I recieved another refusal letter in the post this morning. There is no incentive, no point, and little future left because if not this, then what? Where now? What the fuck am I going to do? I'm writing this as rhetoric, I'm getting it off my chest, these questions aren't intended to be answered. These are just feelings. This is my page. Turn it if you wish.
EDIT: I've been home for a few hours and I had to add to this post now that I've calmed down and straightened myself out a bit. It's not as bad as all that. I've come up with some changes to the lesson that went so badly today, I've got another application on it's way to me from a school in Bristol, It's the last week of term, things could be a shitload worse. And I am aware of the fact that I'm learning while all this trauma is going on- yes, my mentor isn't shy about letting me know when she think's something's shit, but my planning has improved, I've seen a lot of good teachers at work and I'll be as ready as I'll ever be come September (assuming there's a job and I don't yet fail- as seen above, when people told me about the stress they weren't fucking lying). Anyway, sorry for the rant. I'd delete it, but I don't want to start self-censorship as it goes against the point, don't you think? More tomorrow.

Ch-ch-ch Ha-ha-ha

Friday the 13th, then. Everything was in place for a shitty day at about 0600 this morning- had an assessed lesson fourth period (and we all know how they've been going), woke up feeling like dirt, dreading the lesson. Ironed a shirt, got my ass on the bus, things weren't looking good... But the F13 curse didn't work on ME today, no sir! Not only did the lesson go really well, through email and telephone conversations during the day I've sorted out my holiday to Amsterdam on the 23rd of June! That's like, six weeks away- my good friend Rob J and I (of whom I really must post more) have tickets booked to see the legendary rapper Sage Francis at the motherfuckin' Melkweg on the night of the 23rd, from there we're hoping to bag tickets for the Rockin' Park festival, where we'll see Queens of the Stone Age, Jimmy Eat World and my final, ultimate, dream-ticket band: Nine Inch Nails. Stick it up your bell-end, Jason, this Friday the 13th rocked. By the way, first person to explain the title of this thread wins a fantastic prize.

(NB: No actual prizes will be awarded)

Accidental magic

One of the coolest things about owning a digital camera is the freedom to snap and snap without worrying about print costs. The long and short of it is, if you keep snapping, eventually, totally by accident, you'll catch the most beautiful images without even trying. This is exactly what I mean. I was only twatting around, but that's one of the loveliest pictures I've ever taken.

Hmm.

I'm really fucking really disillusioned today. It seems as though the teacher I'm working with is slating every lesson I take- today, after a lesson I thought had gone really well, my teaching was called "boring" and the lesson I'd put together was ripped apart even though each pupil, from where I was standing (which was in the middle of them, actually teaching the lesson), was well into it- they asked loads of intelligent questions, all performed the task I gave them well, there was no real misbehaviour, I got through my lesson plan okay, only to have the entire thing ripped to shreds afterwards, just like always. Other teachers have commented positively on lessons I've taken, I've had some good results with some difficult groups, but officially I just get ripped up. I can't remember the last good thing she had to say about a lesson I've taken. Way back at the start of this placement, I remember her saying that her last student left really disillusioned and worn down, and I'm starting to see why. It feels like I'm working my tits off for fuck all. On the positive side, congratulations are in order to my brother Alan, who's just achieved QTS after years of learning on-the-job. Nice one, bro.

Moral Dilemna....

Is it right to lie and pretend to be a Catholic when applying for a job at a Catholic School? Would they start hitting me with loads of Christ-centric questioning? Could they sue me if I got the job, then got busted? Is my ticket to hell booked yet? I think I'm going to go for it.

yadiloh knaB

72 hours. Seventeen thousand words. My coursework is complete. The new NIN album is superb. I feel weird. nuf rof sknil kcilC.