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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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