Standing beside a mountain of food,
the pensive looking clerk asks me
"no other method of payment?"
before unpacking my carefully chosen food
and returning my rejected card.
Amid the rejection, I look down at my phone
and notice a text message from a friend:

"Our Generation will change society! As Marx said ( Read more... )

There were spacious blue fields where I played as a teenager; each section flanked by roads. A disused building to the far end of the field served as a watch-tower. A watch-tower occupied by children. We had not given over to failure just yet. Not while surveying the relatively spacious landscape from the roof ( Read more... )

watching the light reflected in a puddle on an empty street at 3am
listening to lou reed on the n53 to London
reading Larkin

it's sometimes amusing how small the scene of dedicated political activists can seem in London - I submitted a question to the Socialist Party website only to have it answered by a man I have had regular conversations with in Uxbridge! He has given me quite a detailed account of his view on the subject anyway, perhaps I should use an assumed name ( Read more... )

Back from an NUS conference, one at which a document cutting both the time and number of delegates to save cash was successfully pushed through. It was done in such a way that would encourage the least democratic support possible, with delegates voting to incorporate 6 pages of points without having going through any of them - instead either voting ( Read more... )

I find the normal things crush me with their weight; the beautiful mouth of a boy i'll never kiss again, the oppressive smell of tobacco, the unforgiving music of my neighbors, the never-ending serge to some other club or house or bar, drenching yourself in fragrances in the vain hope of a lay - it's all so sadly oppressive.

There were no entries on this day.

How can John Peel be dead?
How incredibly sad.

must not drink double whiskeys
must not be sick out of others windows, in others toilets, around others beds
must never talk to said others

oi vey, glasses broke again. I only have my Coxon-esk brown frames now. I was actually listening to a pulp song about normal people on my mini-disc ["You know the score - ten blokes with `taches in short-sleeved white shirts telling you that you're the weirdo"] when two of my sports science room-mates started to take the piss ( Read more... )