This Is This

Holy crap my dad’s funny.

The first line of today’s post had me lolling.

I actually lolled.

And I never do that.

I saw The Departed last week - it’s that new Martin Scorcese police film set in Boston, as the script kept reminding us.

There were lines like: “You don’t dump a body in Fenway Maaaahrsh where any old jogger from John Hancock is going to find it.”

Those of you with a slight knowledge of Boston will relate to that line and you’ll go: “Fenway. Fenway Park” and “John Hancock Tower” and you’ll know that these are genuine Massachusettetters Massachusetians Massachusettites New Englanders.

You get that a lot in films that are set somewhere. If there’s a movie that takes place in New Orleans, one character will chuck in a line like: “Eh, he’ll be halfway to Lake Pontchartrain by now, I guarantee.”

Or if it’s set in Staines, one of the characters will refer to an earlier incident in Eton Wick, Langley, Egham or Datchet.

Instead of adding an element of realism to the script, this makes it sound silly. For me at least. How often do two people from a place namecheck their own location. Apart from Liverpudlians.

Hardly ever. If two people are talking about something that happened to them, they won’t throw in the location for good measure. But in the movies they do.

“Remember that patrol in Karbala?”

“Of course I fucking do, I got shot.”

——————–
Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the dark, damp silence, the candles sputtered out. “Bugger,” said the slightly balder spelunker, “we need

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I read something a few weeks ago in The Guardian about the circumstances under which writers prefer to write and there were loads of different setups.

Some like to write in their studies with views overlooking the river. Others disappeared into attics with laptops. Some woke early, made a coffee, and got into bed with notepads. In fact, the only pattern that emerged was that each writer is particular, to the point of a fetish, about their preferences.

I’m no different, so I thought I’d share my own special quirks about the effort I put in to the stuff you put in the effort to read.

Medium
I normally write on paper (remember that?) instead of straight into a computer. I type pretty quickly and everytime I read back something I’ve written straight into a keyboard, I realise that writing down ideas as fast as I can think them ends up making little sense. It reads like I talk sometimes, when people have cause to squint at me and pitch their heads to one side, like a dog hearing a strange noise for the first time.

Tools
a) Spiral notepads that open out like books, NOT the flippy over-the-top Columbo style reporters notepads.
b) 2B pencils, eraser tipped, sharpened with a knife. Pencils sharpened with pencil sharpeners have points which are too brittle and wear down too fast.
c) Or, if I’m writing at a table (more about that later), I’ll use a cheap but favourite Parker fountain pen with black permanent ink.

That all ends up looking like this:

(click picture for larger image)

The black Parker fountain pen is the one I used in the header you can see at the top of this page.

Environment
I normally write on the bus, because there’s nothing to do and boredom is the father of invention. Necessity is the mother, as you know, and deadlines provide the wine, soft lighting, music and - well, we’re all adults here aren’t we?

Writing on the bus is why I normally use pencils, because I’m not going to carry a cheap fountain pen with permanent black ink around in my pocket.

Why don’t I buy a better one that is guaranteed not to leak? Because then it wouldn’t be my pen. Plus I have lost every expensive pen I have ever bought.

The story goes like this. Boy buys pen, boy gets attached to pen. Boy carrries pen around every where and loses pen, but boy can’t retrace his steps because he has been so many places with it and writes stuff down all the time.

Time
As you can tell, I’m pretty easygoing. I don’t have a particular time when I find it easiest to write. Mornings are good, but then so are evenings. It’s 11pm as I write this, sitting with a whisky. And when I type it in, it’s 6:39 and I’m sitting listening to The Carpenters’ On Top Of The World on a bus  making its way though the rain to my home. Holidays are good for writing because my head winds down in ways my job doesn’t let allow, so lots of stuff comes to the surface even though you would expect the opposite to happen. I think.

Material
I’m always writing whatever. I started writing a blog because I wanted to get some of these ideas down because I enjoy writing so much. Get a blog, I thought, and you can get a couple of ideas down and that will be that. Then you came along and started reading this and I discovered that having this site actually encouraged more ideas and, well, here we are.

Penis.

How many pedants does it take to change a lightbulb?

One; although as your question used the plural, I assume the initial inquiry is flawed.

I keep thinking about the failure of Nine Rooms, the brainchild of my child brain, and what I can take from that.

There’s a Japanese saying that goes “Fall down seven times, get up eight times.”

I like that. It means keep trying new stuff.

Or it may simply mean: “Dude - stop falling down, OK? It’s embarassing…”

,… but the important thing is to get up and dust yourself off. If it’s not dusty where you’re falling, you can always bring your own dust. But get up.

When you start anything, you may say to yourself: “What if I fail?”

Sure, and what if they laugh at me. And what if I don’t sing as well as I think? Or no one reads my blog, blah blah blah.

Actually, you may be too attached to the idea of falling.

I used to go skiing with a guy who had this style, leaning forward or back like he was preparing to fall over. He would ski like he was anticipating the fall when he should have been enjoying the ride. He would lean so much that he skied closer to the ground so he wouldn’t have to fall as far as I did when I stacked it.

Of course, I would fall too because falling happens. But he would even fall more often because he was thinking about it.

Isn’t it better to enjoy the ride until falling happens than to spend all your time expecting the likely fall?

You are going to fall.

Be aware. Watch. Observe.

Get up.

Perhaps to fall again, sure - but get up.

Related post:

Hurting ‘Til It Gives

——————–
Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the dark, damp silence, the candles sputtered out. “Bugger,” said the slightly balder

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I had an argument at work, rather heated as it happened, about whether or not snooker was a sport.

I started it by saying that is wasn’t. It’s a game, it’s a discipline, it’s an endeavour - you can have all those, but a sport it ain’t.

My colleague was little short of shocked, to the point of being speechless for a short while before a conversation which went thus.

Him: “Course it’s a sport. How can you say that?”

Me: “It’s a pub game.”

Him: “No it’s not. It’s sponsored and it’s on telly ad it has stars and legends.”

Me: “So does poker.”

Him: “Poker’s not a sport.”

Me: “No, you’re right, it’s not. I mean, it’s played it pubs on tables by people who aren’t athletes. Nothing like snooker.”

Him: “Snooker is a sport.”

Me: “No it’s not. It’s like saying darts is a sport.”

Him: “Darts is a fucking sport!”

I announced that I was going to take up the sport of making tea and would he like one, but he declined my well-meant offer.

Is snooker a sport?

Yes or no.

Winner stays on.

Keen readers of this site will notice the recent addition of Humans United Against Robots in the Links section of the nav bar.

HUAR was designed to educate and make aware the citizenry of the world the impending attack that computers and robots will put into affect against people. HUAR is the collection of human beings, myself included, that spread the word of this opposing doom as well as doing what they can to help minimize the threat.

Founders Keith Malley and his girlfriend Chemda brilliantly use The Machine’s own technology to spread a message  of hope.

The organisation strategy is at Phase 1: Awareness.

Don’t think that you’re the shit just because you’re at the top of the food chain.

Sticking it to the man? Get real.

I’ve had this great idea for a television programme. It’s a makeover show and I’m thinking big.

Two construction companies will do rock paper scissors. Whoever wins gets to flip a coin which has New Orleans on one side and new Iraq on the other.

Then, with a budget of £500, they get to work, seeing who can transform their territories in one week.

Afterwards they have a big party and eat gumbo kebabs.

It addresses the regeneration of both regions and it meets the public demand for real-life programming.

October has just hit me. I love October. I have written a lot about October so I’ll put some links at the bottom of this post.

We went to a big department store and spent a small fortune. About half of our expense was on mobile phone calls, typically:

Me: “Where are you?”

Her: “In kitchenware. Where are you?”

Me: “I’m in pants, but I’m nearly done.”

It made me realise that the more technology we have that allows us to stay in touch, the less we pay attention. I remember my parents literally synchonising watches when they split up to make sure they would meet back up.

Not when they split up split up, there was a bit more to it when that happened, but that’s not for here.

Posts
October
Rocktober

I have to say it worries me the way we look at Islam in the West right now.

If any religion puts itself above criticism - actually no - if someone thinks that anything is beyond reproach, then those who are vilified for raising doubt should desist immediately.

On so doing, the critic should make it clear that their silence is there to patronise those who found it offensive to answer questions of those trying to come to terms with a viewpoint different from their own.

If we pander in the name of tolerance to those whom we may offend, then none of us has any way of life worth defending.

How many Buddhists does it take to change a lightbulb? 

None. The lightbulb, like everything else, is already in a constant state of change.

OK, not great, but I thought of it on the way to work.

I’m not getting unfit or older - it’s the world which is wearing me down.

My commute to work involves me walking about a quarter of a mile all in and that’s using public transport. I thought Londoners were supposed to walk three miles a day or something.

Also, having young kids doesn’t exactly lend itself to physical excertion or leave me with the money or time to join a gym. I’m busy. I’m busy as hell, but I’m not hugely active.

As for ageing, let’s face it - the world reveres youth. No one is eighty in their dreams.

I can easily blame the world for me getting older. What’s the deal with the hair growing in my ears? I’m thirty four and this is a recent and alarming development.

Naturally I look at recent changes in diet and lifestyle, and there are very few things I do differently now than I did five years ago, particularly where my ears are concerned. So I’m assuming it must have something to MP3 files.

I have deduced that the files themselves must somehow stimulate the aural follicles. For years I listened to a walkman or radio, then a personal CD player - all with headphones - and there was never a problem, so it must be MP3s.

I may have also discovered a cure for baldness, but on a purely vain and selfish note, that doesn’t concern me right now.

——————–
Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the dark, damp silence, the candles sputtered out. “Bugger,” said

Latest three words by Wendy

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or:

Pedro explaining to Francis how it’s going with his new girlfriend using only the words from Little Wing by Jimi Hendrix.

Francis: How are you?
 
Pedro: Well 
 
Francis: How’s that new girl? She’s not another one of those crazy chicks, is she? You’re like a magnet.
 
Pedro: She’s walking through the clouds.
 
Francis: At least she has a job.
 
Pedro: With a circus, mind.
 
Francis: Don’t knock it, that’s a career.
 
Pedro: That’s running round.
 
Francis: Is she into all that theatre artsy farty stuff?
 
Pedro: Butterflies and zebras…
 
Francis: Oh man.
 
Pedro: …and moonbeams and fairy tales.
 
Francis: Jesus. Still, at least she’s open minded.
 
Pedro: That’s all she ever thinks about.
 
Francis: So you’re climbing the walls, naturally.
 
Pedro: …Riding with the wind.
 
Francis: But she’s good yeah?
 
Pedro: When?
 
Francis: You know what I mean, you sad git.
 
Pedro: I’m sad?
 
Francis: Exactly. So anyway, you go round to hers and call out a pizza.
 
Pedro: She comes to me.
 
Francis: Oh, OK. And she’s working, so I’m guessing she paid the bill.
 
Pedro: With a thousand.
 
Francis: Fucking hell!
 
Pedro: (smiles)
  
Francis: And you end up staying the night?
 
Pedro: She gives to me free.
 
Francis: How was the sex?
 
Pedro: It’s all right.
 
Francis: That’s what you say.
 
Pedro: She says it’s all right.
 
Francis: And she’s paying for everything? What’s the deal? What does she say?
 
Pedro: “Take anything you want from me”.
 
Francis: Anything?
 
Pedro: Anything.

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the dark, damp silence, the candles sputtered

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I spent some time uploading some photos, adding tags and sorting out sets in flickr. It’s such a cool site. Easy to use - clear, and more importantly, easy to update when you change you mind.

Click the photos if you want to see more.

This pic is the tail light of a 196(x) Ford Thunderbird. I like cars. I practically grew up in the back seat of a big silver 1976 Camaro and, like with songs,  I can trace key stages of my life through the cars I associate with each moment, but that’s a whole other post.

Here’s a paint-effect picture of a tractor.

Marlon Brando: “Do you - see any acting in my method?”

Martin Sheen: “I don’t see - any acting at all, sir.”

Hi Cliff

I’m sorry - we’re not going to  be able to help with this. As you can imagine we get lots of interview requests for the editor and he is just too busy to fulfill them all.

Best wishes,

The Guardian

———
Related posts
Meet The Newspaperers Part 1
Meet The Newspaperers Part 2
Meet The Newspaperers Part 3
Meet The Newspaperers Part 4 

So that’s that, then.

Have a good weekend. Over which I’ll still be posting, by the way. I’m just saying. It’s Friday.

And thanks for reading Meet The Newpaperers this week.

Who da meeja?

Hi The Guardian,
 
Thanks for writing back. I was more keen on talking to Mr Rusbridger himself.
 
My readers already know a lot about blogs but it’s the world of newpapers that intrigues them. More and more bloggers are discovering newspapers and I am keen for them to Meet The Newspaperers, as this is the title of my feature.
 
The questions I had for Mr. Rusbridger were:
 
1. You actually run two newspapers, don’t you? Where do you find the time?

2. Are your employers aware that you run a newspaper? Aren’t you worried they might find out?

3. What are the best content aggregators for newspapers?

4. I tried setting up a newspaper once and found it really complicated. It took ages and in the end I just gave up. Do you have any advice for any one who want to get into newspapering?

5. It seems like a very close-knit community. Do newspaperers ever get together in the real world?

6. Do you see a time when people might actually make money from having a newspaper?

7. Have you ever met up with anyone who contacted you through your newspaper?

8. I myself have become hooked on reading newspapers and am worried about the increasing amount of time I am spending offline. How much time would you recommend someone spend in front of printed pages?

9. How did you come up with “Rusbridger” and have you considered newspapering under your own name?
 
Can you please let Mr. Rusbridger know that I am planning to run this on the front page of http://www.thisisthis.org/.

Regards,

Cliff Jones

———
Related posts
Meet The Newspaperers Part 1
Meet The Newspaperers Part 2
Meet The Newspaperers Part 3
Meet The Newspaperers Part 4
Meet The Newspaperers Part 5

Hi Cliff

Thanks for your interest in The Guardian.  I’m afraid the editor is at a conference for the next two days but I wondered if you would be interested in talking to our blogs editor? Our website has become a leading global news source achieving over 127 million page impressions each month due to our excellent news coverage but also due to the new innovations of minute-by-minute sports coverage, blogs and podcasts.
 
We’ve also won the webby for ‘Best Newspaper on the Web’ for the past two years.

Let me know if you’d be interested and I’ll try and arrange.

The Guardian

———
Related posts
Meet The Newspaperers Part 1
Meet The Newspaperers Part 2
Meet The Newspaperers Part 3
Meet The Newspaperers Part 4
Meet The Newspaperers Part 5

This by columnist Richard Littlejohn today:

Under the radar, the relentless assault will advance apace, the ratchet will be wrenched back still further and that squadron of flying pigs will come crashing back to earth with a very nasty thump before being run over by an illegal immigrant in a hoodie executing a handbrake turn in a stolen car.

Note to American readers: I have no idea what this means either.

This Is This is not responsible for the content contained within newspapers.

I had to go and mention Toblerone yesterday and now I’ve got a song in my head. It’s a James Taylor song called “October Road”, which sounds like “On Toblerone”. This changes/ruins the mood of the song completely.

Oh, promised land
and me still standing.
It’s a test of time.
It’s a real good sign.

Let the sun run down right behind the hill
I know how to stand there still till the moon rise up
right behind the pine, oh lord…

On Toblerone

And then I’ve got this ad in my head of countryside with a big Toberlerone logo over it.

Like that Cadbury ad where they took the Bobby McFerrin song and changed the words “Thinking about your body/Thinking about your face” to “Thinking about your chocolate/Thinking about your taste“. And I like Bobby McFerrin!

This was before he did radio-friendly ear-tat like “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”. Now if you want jazz acapella you’ve got to listen to Jon Hendricks.

If they do an ad with James Taylor and Toblerone, I am getting the first flight out of here.

And if I land at an airport with giant Toblerones in it, I’m getting straight back on the plane and I’m going somewhere else.

“Economists have been surprised by the vigour and breadth of the recovery in Germany. The economy, heavily reliant on exports, is now benefiting from healthy corporate investment,” writes Bertrand Benoit.

The FT is one of the UK’s biggest newspapers, at a mighty 42 by 59 centimetres per page.

A lot of people complain that everything’s getting bigger.

“Planes are larger than ever,” they argue, “cities are bursting at the seams, supermarkets are collosal, family cars are massive and what the fuck is the deal with those giant Kit Kats?”

“Well,” I say reassuringly, “Maybe there’s more to it than that.”

What if people are actually getting smaller, and instead of facing the truth, we’re blaming the things around us?

Next time you see a guy at an airport with one of those huge Toberlerones, try and adopt that perspective that he’s gotten smaller.

Small guy, tiny little suitcase - ordinary size Toblerone. He may be holding a coffee. One of those venti ones sold in a teensey incey Starbucks by other little people.

You could think: “That cup is rediculous. How can anyone drink that much coffee?”

Well yeah. He’s only knee high to a Hummer, poor little guy.

Maybe it’s time we changed how we looked at things and stood up for the little guy.

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the dark, damp silence, the candles sputtered

Latest three words by Clair

What happens next? Up to you.
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Kitchen.
Roll powder.
Six pack;
Washing chocolate toilet bananas.
Spread paper towels.

—————–
Starting Monday:

Meet The Newspaperers: extracts and (hopefully) interviews from the world of the printed page.

Only in tomorrow’s This Is This.

This is. Are you?

Has anyone noticed how bad the background vocals are in Always Something There To Remind Me by Sandy Shaw?

They are awful.

Actually the song is called (There’s) Always Something There To Remind Me.

Yeah, they put the “(There’s)” in brackets. Which is not only unnecessary, but it’s wrong, because the chorus goes “There is always something there to remind me.”

So they added it needlessly. And then shortened it with a contraction.

I need to pay less attention to detail.

Good backing vocals
Bad backing vocals

To: Alan Rusbridger, Editor, The Guardian newspaper
From: Cliff Jones, Proprietor, The This Is This blog 

Dear Mr. Rusbridger,

I run a blog entitled This Is This and I am working on a feature about newspapers. I, like many of my readers, are fascinated in this phenomenon, as many people consider 2006 to have been the Year of the Newspaper.
 
I would be interested in featuring The Guardian on the pages of http://www.thisisthis.org/ and the post would appear on the homepage.
 
The report will be entitled “Meet The Newspaperers” and will over the whole of next week. I am writing to several newspaperers in the hope that they can give my readers an insight into your world and help them better understand your valid place in the media.
 
I would be very interested in your input and would appreciate it if you could spare five minutes for an interview, as I think it is important for blog readers to understand the exciting new role newspapers play in the newsgathering process.
 
Kind regards,

Cliff Jones
http://www.thisisthis.org/

PS. Are you able to provide logos or a list of shops where people can buy your newspaper? As I’m pressed for time with this feature, I could send a bike round or possibly get you a fax number if you would prefer.

———
Related posts
Meet The Newspaperers Part 1
Meet The Newspaperers Part 2
Meet The Newspaperers Part 3
Meet The Newspaperers Part 4
Meet The Newspaperers Part 5

Next week we launch a new feature on This Is This, where we look at the growing phenomenon of newspapers.

For those of you who don’t already know, newspapers make up a significant portion of topical written content in the UK and are fast becoming a vital part of the newsgathering process.

A few facts about newspapers
1. Newspapers are actually made from trees.
2. Newspapers have no archives and are left to waste away once they are read.
3. Although many old newspapers are recycled, several end up as a rudimentary serving method for fish and chips!
4. Newspapers are run like big companies and can employ hundreds of people.
5. The UK has as many as fifteen national newspapers, which can be read all over the UK and sometimes in foreign countries.
6. Although they are written on computers, newspapers must be printed out so they can be carried around.
7. If you lose your newspaper, you will have to buy another one. If you misplace it but don’t realise it until the next day, it is impossible to get that same newspaper back.
8. Some newspapers are updated once, even twice a day.
9. You can fold up a newspaper and carry it under your arm.
10. Newspapers can be bought in shops, just like computers.

The special report on starts with an interview with Alan Rusbridger. Alan runs a newspaper called The Guardian, and we will be printing extracts from his and other publications throughout the week.

Meet The Newspaperers - all week on This Is This.

Starts 16 October.

———
Related posts
Meet The Newspaperers Part 1
Meet The Newspaperers Part 2
Meet The Newspaperers Part 3
Meet The Newspaperers Part 4
Meet The Newspaperers Part 5

And all this because his parents called him Kim.

Seriously though, for years I thought “Kim Jong II” was a sequel.

Until I was nineteen, I had not lived in one country for a stretch longer than six years. That has its benefits on an upbringing: my horizons are broad, I’m open minded and although I’ve often felt like the outsider or the new guy, I’m pretty flexible.

So while I’m not quick to trust people, I’m not easily phased, and that’s got to be good for my poker game.

I have lived where I live now for about ten years, and I am only just earning what I missed out on while growing up because I’ve now got the kind of home life I had only previously seen in others.

It’s funny when I catch the really ordinary stuff come creeping into my previously extraordinary life.

Like last Sunday when I was filling up the car with petrol and I noticed someone I knew alongside me doing the same. We shot the breeze, talked about the England (football) match, which I had missed the day before. He was round at my house in the summer when England got kicked out of the World Cup and that’s always a bonding experience. That’s the great thing about being English: divided we stand, united we fall.

We talked about our kids’ school, stood in the queue, we had a little look at the papers before he got to the till first and was comfortable enough to say goodbye and walk out of the petrol station and drive away without waiting for me because I was still paying.

And that’s cool. If you haven’t had those experiences very often, it can be nice when you do. Familiarity is great when it’s a novelty.

Sometimes instead of talking it’s good to just shoot the breeze. I’m a lousy shot, though, so I tend to take the scattergun approach to small talk, in the hope that something connects.

“Hey, is that one of those thing things? Yeah? I heard they explode. No? Oh, so how’s that new place near you? Tried the stuffed peppers?”

OK, so I’m not a natural.

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see Gdansk. In the
 

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Me (packing up): Well, I’d like to say it’s been nice -

Colleague: But it hasn’t.

Me: No.

Colleague: It’s been real, though.

Me: I’m not even sure it’s been real.

Colleague: No, you’re right.

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never going to see…
 

Latest three words by Wendy

What happens next? Up to you.
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Email your three words 

So it’s not in my nature to be outgoing. It’s somewhat ironic that I have said this twice in two days.

But it’s important to look at your nature and change whatever it is that makes you not do the right thing.

I’m growing increasingly aware that many parts of my nature suck, and this might not be the best way to be. Some aspects I can change, others I can’t and those are the ones I hide behind when I’m just plane not willing to change.

People who do the wrong thing are too often defended by well-wishers who agree with you while trying to reassure you by saying: ”That’s just their way.”

Bollocks. They should fucking change. They are making themselves and others unhappy.

“That’s just their way.”

Way shmay. And it’s not their way - it’s our way.

When people make others miserable, late, ill or whatever, it’s not just their nature, it’s their deliberate effect on the world and that becomes our way.

Change.

Same goes for people who have completely replaced the friendly goodbye with “I’ve got my phone if you need me”, or the guy who nearly drove into me this weekend at eighty miles an hour on the M25 because he was talking to his passenger while pointing something out on his sat nav.

Change.

If you’re making yourself unhappy while the world around you becomes a worse place, you have to change.

And don’t say you can’t if you want to because nothing lasts forever. The nature you’re hiding behind is as imperment as this blog or the eyes you are reading it with.

Thanks to everyone for the kind thoughts yesterday about the two year bloggiversary. I’m going to pour myself a whisky and contemplate this site entering the “terrible twos” - the difficult toddler stage of learning, complete with tantrums and bruises.

Blogmandu spotted yesterday’s blogday post and gave me a shout in their weekly roundup. Actually, it’s more of a bellow than a shout, because what they said was incredibly nice. You can read it whether it’s your way or not, in a section at the bottom of this week’s entry.

This Is This is two.

Last week an article about blogs went up on the MSN UK homepage and this was listed at number five in the top thirty “must reads”. I don’t even know how MSN heard about this site. On Wednesday it got a very kind review on ITalk2Much.

I can’t explain how much I thinks this rocks. I honestly can’t, and I’m supposed to be the guy with the good speaking, and writing them - um… with, you know, the words. Without them, I’m kind of jingling my change.

It does make me think about the whole blogging thing and why I’ve been doing this at all or why I’ve kept it going for two years. I guess I had some stuff to think about, and at times even things to say.

I think there are a lot of bloggers who write because there’s an audience, and I’m not the best judge of whether I’m one of them. There have been occasions when people have asked if me if I wanted them to link to me from their site, and I couldn’t say for sure if I wanted them to (the answer, I guess, is: “up to you”)

What I do know is that in general, if you’re going to do it - this whole blogging thing - you’ve got to love it.

You’ve got to love it so much that you can’t stand not doing it.

You’re probably not going to make a ton of money. You’re probably going to get accused of trying to be something you’re not. People who think they know you will say, “Hey, that’s not you.”

Well, actually, yes it is. Hello.

I just don’t say all these things out loud, because who am I, right?

People can be mislead by how you present yourself in writing, and while I have little to hide, there are aspects of my personality which anyone who knows me may not recognise because they are only one thing.

They may be a colleague, a friend, a family member - we may have even had a thing once.

One of the reminders that life is too short is that we have these complex relationships with people on different levels and often we only see one side of that person. That’s a shame, which is why I try and be as honest as possible when i write, and forthcoming even though it’s not always in my nature.

I’m not outgoing. When I was a kid I would eat ice-cream with a fork in a restaurant because I didn’t want to ask for a spoon.

Buying sweets in a newsagent once, I pretended to be German when a shopkeeper spoke straight at me. And I don’t speak German. I speak French, but to speak French would have been to actually communicate. So I went for German. ”Nein, Deutschland,” I said. He fucking replied in near-perfect German. I walked out and cried, sweetless and defeated.

I sometimes misread the simplest social situations, even facial expressions and my own emotions get misinterpreted fairly regularly, which I’m pretty sure is my fault. Also, most of the time I have very little idea what the people I know think about me, so even saying what I want to say, which is:

Thank you guys so fucking much. Seriously, I mean it, thank you. 

 …makes me think you might think “Is he serious?”

So given this self doubt (which I hope this tempers the badass of other posts) it comes as some surprise that I am still writing here and it’s cool that anyone is reading it. I enjoy writing it, although there are still days when I think: “This fucking blog, I swear to god.”

You probably do as well, but I’ll keep writing if you keep reading, and let’s see what we can’t cook up.

Tell them what they’ve won, Ed.

I was organising some pictures I found one of my favourites, so it deserves pride of place here.

From the archives: here’s what it means

I’m a pretty average guy who uses the Internet.

Well, maybe “uses” is too strong a word.

I look at the Internet.

OK, fine: I laugh at shit online.

Don’t you judge me.

Whenever I see funny stuff online I send it round to my mate Adam, who is a discerning chortler like myself. And like many Australians, he’s a straight talking guy, and his reply to my links is often the same.

“Seen it.”

Sometimes he adds “last week”, or “you idiot”, but it’s usually it’s just:

“Seen it.”

Me: “Hey, check it out. It’s a guy dancing all around the world.”

Adam: “Seen it.”

or

Me: “Look at this - it’s a donut that looks l-”

Adam: “Seen it.”

or

Me: “This newsreader who left her mike on-”

Adam: “Seen it.”

Me: “-her sister in law, oh man, her colleagues, her fucking boss-”

Adam: “Cliff: I’ve seen it.”

So I was pretty pleased when he launched a blog of his own recently because I can just link to him instead of putting links directly in here showing things that were so this morning.

Me: How about this thing with the Muslim policeman not wanting to guard the Israeli embassy?

Colleague: I think it’s disgraceful. I heard that on the way in and I was so angry I texted both Radios Four and Five.

The Daily Star, 4 October
news@dailystar.co.uk

Sir,

Holy motherfucking fuck. In today’s edition of the Daily Star newspaper you refer to the Amish community as a “sect”. You also ran in a sidebar an expose entitled “Inside The Cult” which was neither accurate nor informative.

The Pennsylvania Dutch are a peaceful people with ways different from our own. They do not recruit people or try to change anyone into adopting their beliefs or way of life.

I grew up in West Chester, the county next to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and would happily wave at Amish children who were always friendly and courteous. Even though kids can be a quick to judge, not once do I remember any of my friends telling an Amish joke or any of our parents warning us to avoid this community.

I respectfully urge you to treat this gentle community with the compassion, respect and dignity they deserve, and please not so much with the being of cunts at this difficult time.

Yours (not),

Cliff Jones

1. When you take kids under five down the river or pond, they will usually quack at ducks.

2. Apparently ducks can communicate very well using quacks. They have complex family relationships. They are monogamous and some studies suggest they even have regional accents. They’re smart, ducks, it’s just we can’t understand them.

3. I wonder if kids quacking at ducks is like going to France and going “oh heh hoh heh hoh” at our continental cousins.

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised they were never
 

Latest three words by Wendolyn

What happens next? Up to you.
One story, three words at a time.
Email your three words 

You may remember I had an idea for a blog-based sitcom drama called Nine Rooms, based around the postings of a bunch of characters living in London.

Here’s the deal

I wrote the plot and produced/directed it and had one of the five characters. The rest were taken up by writers in the States and the UK.

It never really took off, and here’s why:

1. I can not write for women
In the plots they either came out as nymphos or victims. Or nympho victims. I’m not the best fiction writer anyway, but I suck at writing for women.

2. I do not have time
This blog is getting some readers, which is an amazing validation, but it takes time and I don’t have the time to put into doing another online project as well as family life, work and other creative stuff I enjoy doing.

3. Inclings
My satisfaction at churning the script out every Tuesday slowly turned into a palpable sense of relief at getting shot of it, often well after the deadline. That’s a sign, right?

So. Would I read a blogcom drama? No. I would think it’s a great idea, but I wouldn’t. And it was a great idea, but then so is liquid soap, but how many people actually bother?

My point is:

I overestimated the level of reader committment.

And it’s not them, it’s me. People don’t want high committment, and there’s no point in continuing doing something just because you’ve put a lot of effort into it. Any investment is all and only about the future and its cost to you.

Would I go someone to read something on a set day of the week and then have to go and read something else so I could make sense of the first thing? And then go and read a third thing to find out what the other person thought of that thing that happened?

No I would not.

In Buddhist terms: know what you know, know that you don’t know.

People want quick posts. Ironically, this is not one, but they want (I think) posts about stuff, like, I don’t know, the thought process of quacking at ducks.
——————–
Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing that they realised
 

Latest three words by mike @ troubled diva

What happens next? Up to you.
One story, three words at a time.
Email your three words 

Today on I Talk Too Much.

Out on the road today, I saw a Deadhead sticker on a Cadillac.

So penned Don Henley in Boys of Summer, his 1980’s ode to the fading spirit of 1960’s.

Well, out on the road yesterday, I saw gansta-style spinning chrome hubcaps (rims to my biatches) on a Renault Espace.

Somehow pimping up a French people mover isn’t going to make an affluent middle class family look “street”.

What next? MC Solar panels? 50 Centimes? Reiki Healer Dre? Xzibit (at the Tate Modern)?

The Espace is a car for a midlife crisis. You look in the wing mirror and it says “YOU MAY NOT HAVE ACHIEVED AS MUCH AS YOU HAD HOPED.”

But my hat goes off to them for trying to keep it old school while dropping the kids off at their school.

Pimped up people mover. Please. It’s like a fishnet burkha.

——————–
Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until they stopped singing

(Latest three words by: rivierawriter)
What happens next? Up to you.
One story, three words at a time.
Email your three words

Dear Sir/Madam,

In the third paragraph of today’s lead story on the front page of the Daily Telegraph, you mention the location of the shooting at the Amish school in Lancaster County.

I used to live on the edge of this county, and I can tell you that it is not “fifty five miles west of Pennsylvania”, as stated in the article.

Fifty five miles west of Pennsylvania would be Ohio. Nickel Mines in Lancaster County is fifty five miles west of Philadelphia.

Yours etc,

Cliff Jones

Nice people, the Amish. I’ll write about them sometime. Damn shame.
This bit didn’t go in the letter.

I like the trademark signoffs from the news anchors when they end their shows.

“Goodnight Capital City.”

“So from all of us here at Look West, have a nice evening.”

Here are is my list of Top Tens (hi Dave) that I would like to hear.

Top Ten Evening News Signoffs

1. OK, so I’m all done reporting here.

2. Call me!

3. Oh thank GOD. Could anyone use a drink?

4. It’s getting worse, you know.

5. Have we done the weather yet? We have? Oh. Well, I guess it’s goodbye then.

6. Good evening, and I blame the parents.

7. Goodnight and gooooood news.

8. And you thought you had problems.

9. And that’s….. some fucked up shit.

10. Do you…. - want to come up for coffee?

——————–

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

It wasn’t until

(Latest three words by: scroobious)
What happens next? Up to you.
One story, three words at a time.
Email your three words

There are some sounds that you associate with each other. Firework booms and joyful awe, for example.

For me, there are some songs that I hear that are so similar that I can not get the two out of my head or draw much of a line between them.

For some reason, I will forever associate Dream Academy’s “Life In A Northern Town” with “Kokomo” by The Beach Boys.

One is a tribute to Nick Drake, the other an ill-conceived comeback single on the Cocktail soundtrack.

This honestly bugs me, so I wonder if anyone else finds them similar. I think the chord progressions are the same in the lift to the chorus, but I’m not sure. I’m not musically trained in that kind of thing and I don’t know how scales work scales or chord progressions or theory stuff.

But this couldn’t be weirder and I think the contrast between the two songs couldn’t be more hilarious.

Humour me. Follow it in your head:

…The evening had turned to rain
Watch the water roll down the drain,
as we followed him down
to the station.
(steel drums fade into background)
And though he never would wave goodbye,
you could see it written in his eyes
as the train rolled out of sight,
bye-b
Aruba, Jamaica ooooo I wanna take you
to Bermuda, Bahama come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego life in a Northern
to Kokomo.
We’ll get there fast
And then well take it slow yaayaa doo doo’n daeeya
we wanna go
life in a northen t-
Port. Au-Prince. I wanna catch a glimpse.

Am I right? It’s not just me is it?

Unless it is, and I have honestly, I finally lost it, live online. Can we get a webcam set up in time for the Bloggies?

But - I would love to hear them played at the same speed side by side before they cart me off, because it’s one of those things that’s always bugged me.

Like if you played Bob Marley’s Redemption Song at five times normal speed, would it sound like bluegrass?

Won’t you help me sing ding ding ding diddleiddleiddleiddle ding dip dip dip dip dip dip dip diddleiddleiddleiddle -

dim diddle iddle iddle IP- DOOOOOEEEEEWWWWWWWWW.

————————————-

Three Word Story

“You don’t understand your power over the common man,” said Alistair Campbell.

The words seemed to echo endlessly around their cell. Digging a tunnel had proved fruitless and oddly phallic. Finding a vein had been the laborious task ahead, but they opted to forge ahead while singing “We Are The Champions”.

I backed up my site the other day and copied it into Word. At 12 point font it came out at 441 pages. Word.

That’s more than 140,000 words. That’s a decent novel.

I think it would a pretty big leap of faith to think that you’re going to trawl through the archives to read what wouldn’t be a decent novel. 

I’ve thought about adding categories to blog posts so people can read about this or that, but it’s too hard to categorise most of the posts.

I’ve thought about doing a “Best Of” collection of posts, but not everyone likes the same thing.

But I thought a better solution would be to go through the archive myself and pull out jist of the good ones and let you decide if you wanted to read them or not.

So in the nav bar on the right you’ve got a new section called Soundbite (pic) which contains snippets of posts you can click through to. These are pulled in as bitesize morcels served at random. Blog tapas, if you will. Pensamientos al vino.

Everytime you visit the homepage, there’s a different extract for you to read and visit the full post if you wish. Feel free to comment, too, because someone else may also get this snippet and when they will click through, they’ll see your comment.

For me, it’s a good way of keeping the archives alive and for you it’s a way of finding some good posts you may have missed.

Of course, if you’re reading this on RSS of one of those feedreader things like Bloglines or Feedreader or Netvibes (listen to me) then you’re not going to see the homepage, so you might miss out.

Those of you actually on the site, thanks for visiting and keep an eye on the Soundbites for whatever takes your fancy, or reload the page (pressing the F5 key) for a new one whenever you like.