Monthly Archives: January 2009

Oh the pain

It kills me.

Back from Oxford, again, with the Jones in tow. What will go down? Who can say? WHO CAN SAY DAMMIT okay i’m really tired

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Says it all really

For a compact summary of the last four and a half years of my life, please enjoy this.

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Extremeing the Bleeding Edge

As you may notice from the new section on the right, FaceOmeter is now on Twitter. I have extremely mixed feelings about twitter-culture so I don’t know if it’ll last. I also don’t know what form my tweets are going to take – if they’re going to be exclusively about the fO project or just personal status updates. Like this blog, there’ll probably be a bit of both going on.

To be honest, I only really signed up so that I could follow Stephen Fry around, so as far as I’m concerned it’s mainly a spectator sport. A creepy, unsettling spectator sport in which there are no players, only other spectators, all watching each other. BUT WITH WHAT ARE EFFECTIVELY TELEGRAMS. GOOD.

I plan to keep updating in haiku for as long as I can be arsed. Click here for the fO twitter page.

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That’s my country

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Good journey

What have I done lately? Well it’s not riveting stuff, but future generations will relish the opportunities to study even my most mundane actions (along with everytbody else’s – ahhhh the blogosphere), so here are some of them:
  • Watched the majority of season 4 of the wire, so far the most savage season of the wire (or of anything?)
  • Given my guitar about three hours of love – it now sounds pretty much the best it ever has, it’s really wonderful. Now if only I could write or play something.
  • Watched The Squid and the Whale, which is as awesome as expected but also totally fucked me up
  • Had another special moment with ‘Two Shoes’ by the Cat Empire, this time on the other bit of George Road.
  • Filled in some job application forms
  • Spent an embarrassing amount of time with ‘Passing Trains’, the new single from the world is not flat, which you should all buy.

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I haven’t been nearly nice enough to Ora on this blog, so I should mention to any regular readers who haven’t checked her out yet that she is a true talent and every minute you spend not investigating her is a minute in which you stab yourself in the crotch with an elegent knife. As if to back up my words, here is a video of her which we shot in Barcelona:

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One slowly-deflating airbed later

Another ride home from Oxford, but this one was largely on a rail-replacement bus service. Of course. Anyway, there were about seven people on the bus, and the driver was clearly taking the opportunity to flex the rather extensive tannoy system with a CD which I can only assume had a title along the lines of 90s Pop Classics!!!!!!!!!!

We pulled out of the dreaming spires, then, to ‘Everybody Hurts’, which swiftly became ‘That Song By The Proclaimers’ on the ring road. The volume was far too loud for even iPods to be of use, so I eventually decided to just drink it all in. How glad I am that I did! By Banbury we’d had Cher and Oasis and more I couldn’t name besides, and as Robbie Williams got ‘Angels’ out I pulled out moleskine and came across a self-quotation in there which I’d forgotten about, and did a massive love for the Banbury, the sun, the countryside, and the situation. Cracked up massively, attracting negative attention from my six co-riders, but racked up yet another indelible Oxford return memory, so it was worth it. Here’s to good times.

“Sorry. I’m British. Forget my own socks if they weren’t stapled to my face”
Will Tattersdill, 2008

If I get remembered for just one…

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Parkes: “If there’s one thing Stalker has taught me, it’s the Russian for ‘put your gun away'”

So as a concession to Americans everywhere I have decided that the British form of the word “pants” should now be spelt and, more importantly, pronounced as follows:


After all, it is an abbr. of “underpants”, so it’s difficult to argue that the yanks are wrong on purely ethical grounds. More importantly, IMAGINE HOW MUCH COOLER LIFE WOULD BE…

Person A: I’m just popping into the pub, I think I left my ‘pants in there.
Person B: You saucy beast. I’ll stay here with my copy of Mark Haddon’s A Spot Of Bother, which is a bit ‘pants.


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The Unbearable Nangness of Being

I have a sort of feeling I’ve linked to this before, but it’s so amazing that I have to draw you to it again. This was what the future was going to be like when my dad was little. So what happened, everyone?

Edit: Jon contibutes this equally-if-not-more-briliant piece of similarity:

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Latest Windows Slogan

Imagine A Life Without Walls

I did. And I’m thinking… pretty inconvenient?

Much like Windows Vista!

Perfect slogan then…

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