Sunday, November 05, 2006

AM: Thank the lord on this Sunday that I wake up feeling ten times more positive than I did yesterday. This actually feels like the best Sunday in weeks, despite the fact that I wake up in my clothes for the Nth day running.

This morning I spend a lot of time listening to new music as prescribed by others. Beyond that I FINALLY get around to doing some study before heading over to the olds’ for Sunday lunch, football and Simpsons.

PM: I arrive slightly late to catch the beginning of West Ham v Arsenal but I am there at the end for the Pardew vs Wenger shove match. This is what makes football great, this football stripped of all its falseness, taken down to its passionate core. For once I wanted Arsenal to win but when it reaches a shoving finale such as that, the result becomes irrelevant, even if it is Westhambul earning boasting rights and the thicker than shit looking Marlon Harewood (the black Homer Simpson) gets the winner in a strange 1-0 victory (Arsenal having started out looking super impressive). The scuffles after the final whistle made the entire day worthwhile also, footballers to be bad losers is only natural and when they fail to display such emotions, it is like they are acting without a soul.

I then notice Saddam Hussein has been sentenced to death.

The second game turns out to be no less exciting. I hate the thought that I am jumping on the Chelsea hate bandwagon but them and their arrogant supporters really get on my fucking tits and to see them defeated by Spurs, some kind of rivals to them, it is super satisfying, especially when it happens in such an exciting manner and to cap it all the bully boy John Terry gets arrogantly sent off for a really soft incident. The man’s sheer demeanour however makes me wish for him to be under a warning from the beginning of every game. Aaron Lennon’s winner in the second half to make it 2-1 was an amazing strike from a player I really want to succeed for England at the highest level. To his eternal credit Mourinho really took the defeat well acted a gentleman at the full time. These two games turn out to be the most entertaining Sunday for a very long time. I would suggest it unwise that Sky have four of the biggest London clubs all playing together in the capital on a Sunday but if its entertaining it has to be entertainment.

My second day running at my parents turns out to be infinitely more successful as my previous as I show signs of picking up and actually being happy (as opposed to grumpy). I blush however when mum comes out with £50 in readies because I had perhaps whinged too much about Natwest to them the previous day. There is no way I can justify taking their money as I would only spunk it up the wall like so much else of my money but I do say “that’s ok, I don’t need it YET” putting much emphasise on the word “yet”. I’ll keep my trap shut next time. After another weird new episode of the Simpsons (the plot has now royally been lost while South Park becomes more political and seems to really thrive) I finally get home around 7.30 to the chilly Bohemian Grove. My flat saps all energy from me; it is a really depressing place to be. After all my plans and best intentions, upon stepping back into my bedroom I suddenly feel tired and lethargic. Outside, a second night of fireworks begins to kick off as Channel Four begins showing the first in the Lord Of The Rings trilogy. These films are really silly but will forever remind me of Azmei – a concept, equally as silly to me these days. Line comes online and I try my best communicate but I feel shot. And to compound this, my poxy AOL crashes as we attempt some kind of word game on Yahoo. After an agonising half hour of wrestling with my PC (and watching the Paul Weller documentary out of one eye, with Dee C Lee looking really hot) I eventually get back online. We play the game until my computer freezes again, at a point where I am being pasted at an English word game by a person whose first language isn’t even English (some might even say it happened on purpose). I throw in the towel for the evening with the subject being on the death of Adrienne Shelley (with turns out to be suicide apparently). I used to have the biggest crush on her but at the same time I did know and have a crush on a girl exactly like her called Frances Bollock.

I fall asleep listening to the audio book of Robert Evans reading The Kid Stays In The Picture (as prescribed by Patton Oswalt).

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