Found as part of a mission statement for a computer games development project: “Be reasonable. Demand the Impossible.”

Makes sense to me.

“Hey mister, you got the best answering machine message I ever heard”

You know it’s a good start to the week when the random selected playlist begins with “My Baby Is A Headfuck” by the Wildhearts, and moves from there to “More Songs About Chocolate And Girls” by the Undertones . Hope you all had a good weekend.

Further to my previous post: I’ve got ANGEL PASSAGE on order, for when it’s released next week. I downloaded the preview track of the first link I provided, and I want to to be here right god-damned now. Yesterday, in fact. Why isn’t it fucking here yet?

As you might have guessed, it blew me away. The bit where the guitars pick up and Alan goes into full intensity just picked me up and dragged me along with it. You have to hear this.

Go here and listen to the words and music. Then go here and order THE HIGHBURY WORKING and ANGEL PASSAGE. They will make your head better.

Via various places:

I am 48% punk – “The intelligent punk. Tuff and Smart. You may be able to maintain a train of thought long enough… What the fuck was I talking about?”

I am 11% goth – “You wanna be a GOTH. But you are not. Smoking cloves and too much eyeliner a goth does not make. Go home and take your Cure CD’s with you.”

Last night my brother had dug out some old photos of me, and I swear to god that at a casual glance, you’d think they could have been taken yesterday. I’ve gained weight (and even then, I’m doing a passable job of shedding that, recently), but other than that, no difference. I don’t know how I feel about that. Especially as everyone else in the photos looks massively different.

Eternally young, that’s me…

The Onion has an interview with Alan Moore, talking about the FROM HELL film, comics, and magic. Toward the end of the interview, he says:

“With magic, I worship a second-century Roman snake god who, on the best evidence that I can dredge up from that period, was some kind of elaborate glove-puppet that was being controlled by a second-century snake-oil salesman, basically a complete fraud, huckster, and showman. I don’t want anybody else to start worshipping this god. I find something a bit unnatural in the idea of being bound together in spiritual ideas with people. I’m sure that, in our natural state, we all believe something entirely different. I don’t necessarily want anybody to believe the same things I believe, which is one of the reasons why I’ve adopted such a patently mad sort of deity.”

This is interesting to me because it sets down something I’ve been trying to put into words for the last year or so. My beliefs are just that. Mine. I don’t tell other people about them in any detail – I stop at “I practice chaos magic” if I say anything at all. The idea of someone else believing the same things as me would just be ludicrous. The “gods” I give acknowledgement to are ridiculous and mad things, by my choice. I don’t want to be able to take my own beliefs seriously. It would defeat the point. So I don’t explain them to others.

Just back from a night out with Mark, celebrating the fact that his band have been signed. Spent most of the evening chatting with his girlfriend and her sister, who are both 18. 6 years younger than me, and by god, they make me feel old, and if I’m honest, also a certain amount of patronising amusement. Is this how my friends who are six years (or more) older than me react to me, I wonder, or is it just because they’re 18?

“Gave me books to bind my reason

Wrote freedom off with rules

Gave me fears for every season

Taught me ignorance in schools.” – Tansads – “Turn on, Tune Up, Drop Out, Be Late”

See what I mean? Perfect pop. And I’ll never have watch them get old and crap.

I went to see Ghost World last night. It’s an adaption of Dan Clowes graphic novel of the same name. Despite my best intentions, I’ve never actually gotten around to reading the original, but I thoroughly enjoyed the film. Some of the folk I went with were a bit less satisfied with it – the usual complaint of having prefered the original, which is fair enough. I’m going to give the origional a look over the weekend, just so’s I can see if I have a different reaction to them.

Oh, and while I’m thinking of it, Anna asked me to dig out the link to one of Reggie Rigby’s old Fool Brittania columns that came up in conversation. Here it is – the story of how he had to confiscate a copy of Bazooka Jules. Enjoy.