30.09.2002 - Something else to collect...

I've become a bit of a hoarder of DVD's. For example, I see The Complete Fawlty Towers and I have to buy it. It's not a case of, "Oooo, that'd be nice!" or "I'd really like to watch that this afternoon." No, it's a classic, a piece of TV history therefore there is no way that my DVD collection can be complete without it. I have to buy it.

In addition to Fawlty Towers I've had a bit of a spree this weekend. Other new additions that help make my collection whole are Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown and The Omen. Classics both and, of course, must haves.

I've been in this territory before. When I lived in Bristol I'd buy music cassettes every day. I got into arrears on my rent because of it. My bank account would be in the red but I wouldn't let it jeopardise my building the ultimate comprehensive music collection. Of course, I threw all those cassettes away when CDs came out and started all over again. What is this compulsion that lies deep within me? I've only just thrown out countless video cassettes from my airing cupboard - everyone a must have classic in its time.

Here we go again...

Something to celebrate...

He's got style. He's got attitude. What's he got? He's got the lot.

Happy Birthday Mr Gumola.

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29.09.2002 - Like a rubber ball...

"John Major?" I thought, "Surely she could've chosen someone with a little more panache, someone with a little more... well, sex appeal!" He's a decent enough looking chap but, let's be honest, he's a bit dull. Whatever did you see in him?

The more I think about it, the more right this affair feels. Yes, you could have gone for someone dashing like Mr Parkinson, Mr Clark or even Mr Portillo. But no, an affair with John Major seems grounded in reality with more than an air of failure about it. John Major, the grey man satirised as wearing his grey underpants outside his grey trousers and pushing grey peas around a grey plate with his grey wife, Norma. Well, well, well, Ms Currie, what's it all about?

Despite my lifelong opposition to what the Tories stand for, I actually admire you, Edwina. I may not agree with your politics but I applaud you for your honesty. And honesty is a word you don't often hear when describing politicians.

Yes, I'm talking about the honesty of what you said during the salmonella scare, of course - but also, I'm talking about the honesty of your off the peg clothes and of your cheap, bodice ripper novels. I'm talking about the honesty of your cheesy self promotion and also the honesty of your support through the age of consent debates - a time when your party seemed not to listen. I remember the honesty of your condom demonstration on TV in the early 80's rather than the iceberg metaphore for AIDS which we got everywhere else. If I'm not mistaken, were you not one of the first MPs to congratulate Chris Smith when he came out - the first openly gay British MP. An honesty and bravery you demonstrated from within a party that demanded homophobia.

This honesty has cost you dearly but you've bounced back every time. May your best be yet to come...

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28.09.2002 - Too tired to blog...

...so instead I offer you this, this and this.

I feel absolutley dog tired, punch drunk, abso-bloody-lutley knackered and ready for a break. Only 3 more working days left before my holiday starts. Can't wait. If time goes any slower it will start running in reverse.

On another note... Somebody is getting mighty irritated. Reminds me of this lyric from Chicago:

OK, so I'm not too tired to blog. But I am tired and can't sleep and I've been up since 3am!

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27.09.2002 - Congratulations...

...to Scaryduck, winner of the Best British Blog; to all the runners up and also to Peter of Naked Blog for his humour, common sense and, of course, for making it onto the shortlist. But no Mike...??

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26.09.2002 - The number of the beast...

Prince Charles, it's reported, is getting himself into hot water with his frequent letters to government ministers. His office at St James' Palace have defended his position, stating that, "It is the Royal Family's role to take an active interest in British life and it is part of their role to highlight problems and represent views which are in danger of not being heard." Fair enough you might think but...

As the Beast of Bolsover questioned on last night's news - Where were all his letters during Thatcher's premiership; when Thatcher labelled the miners as the enemy within and later when the Poll Tax was being debated? What was he doing then? Talking to bloody plants, that's what!

Dennis Skinner is priceless - he really is a national treasure!

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25.09.2002 - One for the road...

Mr Gumola says he hates banks. I really can't understand why. Perhaps he ought to transfer his account to this bank.

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24.09.2002 - Did the earth move for you..?

Me neither, but unusually for us Brits it did for quite a number. At 00:53 yesterday morning we experienced an earthquake measuring 4.8 on the Richter scale. I know some of you out there laugh in the face of such a baby tremor but this is Britain and we don't have earthquakes in Britain.

The last time we had a tremor this big was ten years ago. I was being shown around an 8th floor office in Cardiff at the time. That was quite interesting as we swayed from side to side and thoughts of being rescued by Charlton Heston crossed my mind.

The bf felt the tremor last night; he lay awake in bed but I slept through it. He told me it was a strange sensation, being gently shaken from side to side for a few seconds. But as you know, I can sleep through anything and so missed all the fun. I suppose I was shaken, not stirred.

link | so... tell me

23.09.2002 - Please mind the gap...

There are 11½ years between the bf and I - in years I'm closer to his dad. This scares me sometimes. I know that age differences shouldn't matter (and for most of the time I don't think they come into play) but, of course, there are times when they are painfully evident. As I approach my fortieth birthday these differences loom large in my mind. He's in his twenties while I, very shortly, will be in my forties. It's like we're a generation apart.

The bf sometimes jokes that I'm feeding off his youth; like a vampire, he claims, I maintain my immortality through sucking the life out of my young victim. It has to be said that I have always enjoyed the company of young people and most of my friends are younger than me. This, however, cuts both ways - this youthful culture can sometimes make me feel so much older.

In some senses the bf's joke is true; there's no doubt that I'm more in touch with certain aspects of a younger culture because of his influence in my life and because of the younger people I tend to hang around with - so in a sense I am feeding off him and them.

I am nothing more than a youth extractor.

link | so... tell me

22.09.2002 - Time for a break...

We (the bf + I) got confirmation today of our flight to Denmark. Not long now before I've got a break of 3 weeks or so. I'm planning on spending half of it in Denmark at the bf's parents and, when I return, the other half sat on my arse here (well, perhaps the occasional excursion to buy a bottle of milk).

I know exactly where Vaughan is coming from when he says, "Bloody hell, I need a holiday." I found myself staring at the time on my PC in work yesterday and I didn't know whether to add it up or subtract it. It took quite some time before I realised that no calculation was neccessary and all I needed was to read it. Also, I find myself forgetting colleague's names - I get them in the end but not before a fumble through the shadier corners of my so called mind. My team think I've lost it.

At least, I think this is all caused by tiredness and the need for a break. What if it isn't; what if it's alzheimers? My dad has alzheimers and therefore I'm mindful of any lapses in memory above what I'd expect. It crept up on my dad. He was always a bit forgetful and so the condition was not noticed until it was well through its initial stages. It's worse everytime I see him. My brother has taken charge of his bank account etc and leaves sticky notes around my dad's house to remind him of where things are. In my mind's eye, of course, he will always be this energetic man in his thirties - the man who seemed to spend all his free time digging the garden and fixing the car - my dad. It's quite upsetting to see what used to be such a fit and active man turn into this shambling mess.

I'm quite forgetful myself; at least I've noticed I have been over the last year or two. With any major stupid lapse I always think, am I gonna spend my final years in a home being spoon fed and taken to the toilet? Is this finally it? If I start repeating myself, somebody, please leave a note in my comments - little notes, like my brother does for my dad. Ask me if I've eaten, ask me if I've flushed the loo, ask me how I'm doing.

link | so... tell me

21.09.2002 - Straight acting...

I've never fully understood this term - of course I know what it means but I don't really understand where it springs from. Why is straight acting such a desirable attribute; a premium we all must pay?

I see those images of the Marlboro man, the marine, the construction worker, the motorcycle cop and all the other gay stereotypes presented to us by Village People and every other peddler who's jumped on the homo-fantasy bandwagon. I hear Quentin Crisp's pessimistic statements about no GDM and I overhear conversations where queens delude themselves about passing for straight. I see impossibly small butts and impressively wide chests. I see the piercings and the tattoos, the shaved heads and the unshaved faces, the leather and the denim and I wonder where does all this ultra machismo lead us and leave us?

I admit that the overtly masculine image, often used in advertising, is appealing to me. I know I'm as susceptable and predictable as the next queen when it comes to what is and what is not desirable. Thick hair, toned muscles and a length of bone are guaranteed to get me going but when you move away from the make believe, when you get closer to real life - I quite like the odd camp mannerism and the occassional less than manly quirk. All my significant others have had them and it's what made them special or lovable or cute.

I think there was, there must've been, a time when I aspired to this heterosexualesque (heterosexism + burlesque) myself - probably borne of a fear of being found out. Despite valiant attempts when younger, however, I have never attained my straight acting proficiency badge. I giggle too much and I get a bit camp when excited. Such traits were discouraged in actors of my generation. The blanker the canvas, the more employable (we were told) we'd be. I now know that is utter bullshit. Trying to convince the world that you're something you're not takes its toll.

I'm really not a good example when it comes to being macho. I don't have a gym membership and I can't grow a moustache. All this doesn't worry me too much; I am what I am, take it or leave it. In the end what's so desirable about deceiving everyone by pretending to be something that you're not. What's so proud about screaming your tits off for one week and hiding behind your heterosexual mask for the other 51. What advantage is there in promoting straight as a positive value when what you really mean is (as Mr Greig put it) straight laced, straight and narrow and straight jacketed?

Labelling ourselves as straight acting is as oppressive as being called faggot.

link | so... tell me

20.09.2002 - Right suicide rate...

It's been discovered that suicide rates increase when right wing governments are in power. The authors of this report have suggested that this maybe because right wing governments traditionally promote less interventionist and more market-orientated policies. This may make people feel more detached from society.

Wasn't it Thatcher who claimed that society didn't exist? And wasn't it under Thatcher's Premiership that suicide rates jumped by 8%?

link | so... tell me

19.09.2002 - It's not what you think...

Skyscrapers and Dynamite.

link | so... tell me

18.09.2002 - I'm so sorry to disappoint...

Some of the searches that have recently seen you salivating at my kitchen door:

link | so... tell me

17.09.2002 - Britishness...

Should people living in Britain speak English at home? Should there be a "Britishness" test? Well, Mr Blunkett, the Home Secretary thinks so. Obviously he's not considered the many different languages spoken throughout British homes, such as Welsh, Punjabi, Urdu, Gaelic, etc., etc... Silly bloody man. Here we go again...

link | so... tell me

16.09.2002 - Bloody cheek..!

If I’d wanted to be judged by him I’d’ve entered the bloody competition!

link | so... tell me

15.09.2002 - Closets are for clothes, not people...

When I decided to come out to my parents (19 years ago) I waited until I'd moved away from home. And when I did share the glad tidings it was by letter. Some people thought that was a bit of a cowardly way of doing it. I say that there's no right or wrong way; you come out in any way with which you feel comfortable.

My mother seemed to accept it immediately. She told some of her friends and came to visit me. She told me that she would always love me and she said that she was happy that I was happy. However, as perfect an acceptance as this may seem, I don't think she had fully accepted me. For years and years, whenever we parted she'd always say, "Look after yourself and take care." On the surface, quite a caring remark but I began to realise that behind this oft cited statement something ran deeper. What she actually meant was, "Don't be promiscuous and don't catch AIDS and die." I longed for the type of questions she'd asked me before she knew I was gay; questions such as, "Who are you meeting tonight?" and "Are you seeing anyone special?" and "Make sure you treat them well!" She seemed afraid and unsure how to ask those questions now. I'm pleased to say that we've discussed this and time has filled in many gaps in her understanding and eroded most fears which may have remained. She treats the bf as one of the family and really does fully accept who I am.

My dad did not have such an easy ride in accepting me - I'm not convinced he has really accepted me to this day. When he found out he spoke to my younger brother about it. The news took him completely by surprise. He hadn't any idea that I might be gay. He explained to my brother that surely he should have noticed that I was gay by the tell tale signs he'd read about in the tabloids. He believed that you could spot a queer a mile off. I hadn't worn women's clothing or make-up, I didn't lisp and, unbelievably, I was good at certain sports. I think he found it a little unfair that I'd not subscribed to the stereotype; I think he thought me a little devious for doing this - open and honest queers should mince and lisp as a warning to straight men in the same way that wasps wear black and amber stripes to warn predators that they don't taste too good! In my few meetings with him of late, my sexuality is never mentioned. He's welcoming and friendly enough - to me and the bf - but who I really am is never addressed.

Back in the mid 1980's I was part of a company of actors devising a play about the Miners' Strike. We visited the mining towns in the South Wales valleys and interviewed the people who'd been involved. I remember being in a miners' welfare and social club one night where we interviewed one woman - a miner's wife and activist during the strike - about a support group called Lesbians and Gays Support The Miners, which I'd been a member of during the strike. When she realised this she hugged me and introduced me to her friends. They then dragged me outside to show me the lesbian van - a minibus that had been bought with money raised by the group. She insisted that I take it for a test drive, despite my protestations that I didn't drive. I was treated like royalty simply because of my sexuality and by members of a community not dissimilar to the one I'd come from. She explained that before the strike the community had probably held all the prejudices that any small community (such as the one I'd come from) might harbour. However, she went on to explain that the strike had taught them all valuable lessons and they'd forged new alliances and allegencies as a result. This new liberal community philosophy was all well and good but, she was asked, what would she say if one of her own kids came home and announced that they were gay, what would she say then? She paused for a moment before saying, "It's not who you love but that you love at all." I wept.

Someone who's starting down this road is Bart. He's recently taken that enormous step of coming out to people that he loves. He didn't know how they'd react and whether they'd still love him after they knew. Go visit him, read his story and then send him all your love.

link | so... tell me

14.09.2002 - Did you sleep well..?

Why, yes I did thank you. I've never had a problem falling to sleep. I can do it at anytime of the day and in any environment and under any circumstance. I have fallen asleep in public places as well as in private. I have fallen asleep mid sentence - when I'm talking! The best example I can give you of my abilities to fall asleep would be when I fell asleep on stage; I was doing a play where I spent most of the first act sitting on a bar stool and doing very little. I fell asleep! I can remember looking out into a darkened auditorium, fighting that overwhelming blanket of drowsiness. Next thing I knew, I'd stumbled forward off the stool and was recoiling sharply to regain my balance. Whatever was the main focus on stage was no longer, as all eyes darted over to me.

Remaining asleep in the early hours has always been a problem. Come 5 or 6 o'clock, even on a Sunday, and I'm wide eyed and so bored with trying to get off again that I usually give in and get up. The slightest sound or movement or chink of light will stir me. Alcohol does not work. Yes, alcohol can be an aid to getting people off to sleep but that's never been my problem. Alcohol is certainly not an aid to keeping me there as visits to the loo are the last thing you want if you're trying to stay asleep. Unlike the bf, I am unable to lie in. The only things that I've found that work are sleeping tablets.

This is what I did last night; just one little magic pill and I'm away for my eight hours worth and maybe more. And, no, I don't take them regularly and, yes, I have tried many other remedies - none which work. Of course I can't take sleeping tablets on a school day as I might sleep in and miss my alarm; I can only indulge in this luxury during holidays or on weekends where I'm not working. I feel rested and ready to take on the day.

I wonder if anyone else has the same problem. Sleeping problems are usually discussed with regard to ability or inability. My problem is I can, then I can't. If people can be labelled as manic depressive then maybe I should be labelled narcoleptic insomniac. Here are some links...

link | so... tell me

13.09.2002 - Three links...

No blog, just this , this and this.

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12.09.2002 - Changing the world...

Think back to yesterday and then think back to a year ago yesterday. Now think of what you can do to change the world for the better. This man has...

Be strong, be loud, be heard.

link | so... tell me

11.09.2002 - What to do...

The date in itself is enough to stop you in your tracks, isn't it? As to what I should write here today; well... I've thought about leaving it blank, I've thought about linking back to other blogs with entries written a year ago, I've thought about numerous naff and empty gestures I could do with today's post - all of them completely unsatisfactory.

It's my father's 71st birthday today and, much to my shame, I forgot. I'd like to blame it on today's anniversary but I can't, I just forgot. I didn't see him on his 70th a year ago and, in the aftermath of September 11th, forgot to ask him how his celebrations had gone. I don't see him that often as he lives some distance away and it's not the closest of relationships, if the truth be told. It's sad that a day which should be a highlight in his calender has become such a sober and sombre day. However, I do wish him all the best for today.

I've wondered how I'd want today to be marked if I'd lost somebody close to me in last year's events. I'd like to think that I'd want to do something that I enjoy; something that raises a smile - go out and fly a kite, walk barefoot to work, wear a silly hat... get pissed... whatever! I'd like to think I'd have the courage to do that.

And if you do decide to have a little drink, lift a glass for my dad.

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10.09.2002 - I could be very big in China...

Thanks to Tom for the link but mercifully my site has not been blocked by the Chinese authorities. This means that it's possible for So... to have a larger readership in China than the BBC and Google, which have been blocked.

I watched The Silence Of The Lambs again over the weekend and was so awe struck by Foster and Hopkins' performances - it's all in the eyes, the whole story. Yesterday I bought Cabaret on DVD; a monumental film that shaped who we are - really, it did.

I spent last night looking through my photo collection for a shot which fulfilled Rannie's next 100K theme, movement. The bf found an old picture of me sat on the loo which he said would be a good one to entitle movement. It's a cheap shot and I'm such a cheap guy; I won't publish that shot and cheapen things any further...

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09.09.2002 - OMG..!

D'you know when you skirt around a subject looking for a way in but you can't find it... D'you know the way a series of thoughts can occupy your mind for weeks, maybe months, and you never fully shape them - they never crystallise... And these muddy thoughts swim around in your head and maybe fragments or aspects of them take some form and feature in your day to day communications... but it's not the full story. You feel so dumb, these muted stories are muffled and scattered by your dull brain... you can't seem to distill them into a coherent progression or narrative, they're just unrelated fragments... until one day...

I was browsing some blogs yesterday when I found this and it was like... this man, bentkid, had got into my mind and stolen my random and haphazard thoughts, put them into order and published what I'd been grappling with over the last few months.

Thank you.

link | so... tell me

08.09.2002 - Dangerous...

There's a man of Middle Eastern extraction who catches the same bus as I sometimes get at 7am in the morning. He's quite a short man and quite timid looking and aged about 55. Whatever the weather, he wears an old tweed jacket and a woolly hat. He is forever chewing on the qat leaves he carries in an old plastic bag at his side. He chews quite vigourously occasionaly spitting the remains to the ground in a glob of frothy saliva. A woman waiting nearby, tuts and looks away. I don't know whether she disapproves of his occasional spitting or whether she disapproves of the fact that he's chewing qat.

Qat, otherwise known as Khat, Kat, Chat, Kus-es-Salahin, Mirra, Tohai, Tschat, Catha, Quat, Abyssinian Tea, African Tea, and African Salad. The fresh leaves, when chewed, release a chemical similar to amphetamines, it reduces fatigue and represses the appetite. It acts as a stimulant. Qat is used socially in parts of Africa and predates coffee. In small quantities it's used in a social context. In large quantities it is a highly addictive drug. In a recent study, Somali Qat users in Cardiff reported significant health problems associated with their habit. These included sleep problems, weight loss, appetite loss, mood swings, irritability, paranoid ideas, nightmares and hallucinations.

Qat is not illegal to use or trade in the UK. Along with tea and coffee, alcohol and nicotine, it is a drug which is permissable under UK legislation. Qat is probably freer of legislation than alcohol and nicotine which provide the government with a highly lucrative income through the taxes levied on these drugs. Isn't it about time that we had a complete overhaul of our thinking regarding the laws surrounding drugs in this country? The recent tinkering that we've done doesn't address any issues; all it does is confuse everyone, the police included. We are continually reminded what a danger certain drugs pose whenever discussions around decriminalisation occur. And yet the biggest killers are the legalised nicotine and alcohol; two drugs that are openly celebrated in our culture. I believe our laws around drugs in the West are framed by our xenophobia. Our laws have nothing to do with the actual dangers and risks posed by the use of drugs.

Does the woman who tuts in disapproval at the qat chewer class her breakfast cup of tea and a cigarette as a drug habit? Does she view her after dinner cup of coffee and glass of cognac as the height of sophistication or the depth of drug dependent depravity?

link | so... tell me

07.09.2002 - Congratulations...

Rannie's second 100K theme is out and this time it's fun with macros. But this photo is not only an entry for the Photojunkie 100K Competition. No, no, no, no, this photo also serves as a birthday card for a half mad blogger who's going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment. He always manages to make me smile and also to wind me up at one and the same time.

Today's his birthday, although I couldn't possibly divulge how old he actually is (except to say that Tell Laura I Love Her was the UK Number One the day he was born). He's the best. It's Richard.

link | so... tell me

06.09.2002 - Frightening...

Some of today's words and phrases that beat a pathway to my door:

heart attack, burp, means that, Zyklon, Umbro, photo, Fanny Craddock, caffeine, suicide, pro plus, clarks, shoes, advert, welsh, language, microwave, uk lads, gay, email addresses footballers in china, dunc fest 2002...

Is this what I add up to?

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05.09.2002 - Do you know..?

Do you know how many sentences per paragraph I use in this blog? Do you know how many words per sentence and how many characters per word I use in this blog? Do you know that a 6th grade American student should be able to read this blog with ease? Do you know that 9 out of 10 cats who expressed a preference think my blog tastes better than Sheba Individually Wrapped Pussy Snacks? David has been doing some research and he should know...

Also via David's site: do you know that I've lived through 85% of UK Number One Singles, that I was born to Frank Ifield singing Lovesick Blues, and celebrated my 18th Birthday to Barbara Streisand singing Woman In Love? Check out who serenaded you through your special moments at this site.

And another thing... Do you know why I chose not to enter the Guardian's Best Blogsite In The World Evah!

Good luck if you did enter this competition, I can think of many who deserve to win. If you didn't enter then get yourself over to Tom's place for a little link like the one above.

link | so... tell me

05.09.2002 - Did you know..?

Do you know how many sentences per paragraph I use in this blog? Do you know how many words per sentence I use and how many characters per word I use in this blog? Do you know that a 6th grade American student should be able to easily read this blog? Did you know that 9 out of 10 cats who expressed a preference think my blog tastes better than Sheba Individually Wrapped Pussy Snacks? Neither did I but David has been doing some research and he should know...

Also via David's site: did you know that I've lived through 85% of UK Number One Singles, I was born to Frank Ifield singing Lovesick Blues, and celebrated my 18th Birthday to Barbara Streisand singing Woman In Love? Check out who serenaded you through your special moments at this site.

link | so... tell me

04.09.2002 - Back to school weather...

Yesterday was real back to school weather. That miserable and low cloud cover that retains the heat but obscures any joy the sun might bring. I picture myself 25 years ago, sweating and cursing my mother for making me wear a mauve school uniform jumper on my first day.

I've been thinking how many songs feature the Autumn or Fall. There seem to be several that mention Spring and quite a number that describe Winter and, of course, Summer is more than adequately catered for. The only one that sticks in my mind about Autumn is Anderson & Weill's September Song: Oh, it's a long, long while / From May to December / But the days grow short / When you reach September.

Is that too contrived a link to Rannie's 100K Photocontest? Whatever, who cares? I'm too tired for subtlety. This is my entry for Catagory 1: End of Summer.

link | so... tell me

03.09.2002 - 384 Pro Plus...

Thanks to Blogadoon for the link to this report in the Independent about a Cardiff chemistry student who killed himself by overdosing on caffeine.

Why? Why kill youself; there's that question, of course, but why choose caffeine as your means of dispatch? It's not noted as a suicide agent; there are quicker and more comfortable means of crossing that dark river. You're unlikely to slip away during sleep after you've swallowed 384 Pro Plus. I get the jitters after two coffees in the morning so Christ knows what I'd be like after one box of 96 Pro Plus, nevermind 4 boxes.

I once lived on Pro Plus for a while when I was a student. I used to leave college each evening and head straight for a particular bar where I stayed until dawn. I took a lot of speed through the night and then Pro Plus washed down with coffee through the day so that I could attend my classes. I survived on just a couple of hours sleep, snatched when I could, for a month or so and I'd never ever want to go through it again.

Caffeine doesn't take away the tortuous feeling of sleep deprivation, all it does is keep your eyes open. You lose your ability to concentrate, you have no memory and you have no energy. You still dream and drift through levels of consciousness. It is, quite literally, a waking nightmare.

But suicide by caffeine? As Blogadoon asks, what would that be like?

link | so... tell me

02.09.2002 - The weekend...

According to the BBC, the gay event of the year has taken place: Cardiff's Mardi Gras took place on Saturday. Instead of joining in the fun, the bf and I shopped for something to wear to a wedding do we'd been invited to that evening. The wedding reception was enjoyable but the shopping bit which preceded it was not. It was too hot and we were too rushed - not pleasant. The reception was the first real test for me now I've stopped smoking. To be honest, I didn't feel like one at all - not for the entire time I was there. Good to get through that one.

We spent yesterday lying in Bute Park soaking up the brilliant sunshine. It was such a lovely day but you could tell that there was a change in the air. It felt like the last day of Summer - our final opportunity to savour the good weather. I've got some shots of the park which I'll post when I get a moment.

I feel a little sad that September's here and the Summer's all but over. I've never felt that before; I've always looked forward to the Autumn; my favourite season. The bf and I both realised, as we lay there yesterday afternoon, that we've not really made as much of the Summer as we might have. I think that accounts, in part, for my reluctance at waving the season bye-bye.

I think that I have a dread of the Autumn this year, in particular, as it ushers me into my 40's. I've tried to ignore it and hope that it'll go away or just pass without me noticing too much but that hasn't happened. It keeps waving at me and calling out my name. It was OK when it was in the distance - an event on my horizon. With the advent of that "season of mists and mellow fruitfulness" it's an event that is fast approaching and I feel totally unprepared for it.

link | so... tell me

01.09.2002 - Zillafied...

I found a useful/useless toy at http://web.lfw.org/jminc via the big pink cookie. You can zillafy (see this post for an explanation) any page by just plugging in the word zilla and then the url. Done. Below is my 100 things zillafied.

100 Zilla...

  1. I Zilla Zilla 9th 1962.
  2. Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla 9th 1962.
  3. I Zilla at 6:50 am.
  4. I am a Zilla.
  5. My Zilla is Zilla.
  6. I Zilla in the year of the Zilla.
  7. I do Zilla in Zilla.
  8. I Zilla Zilla Zilla or Zilla.
  9. I Zilla Zilla I was a Zilla Zilla I was 8.
  10. I Zilla Zilla I was a Zilla Zilla I was 10.
  11. I Zilla Zilla Zilla by my Zilla Zilla Zilla I was 9.
  12. I Zilla Zilla the Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  13. I Zilla by a Zilla the Zilla Zilla I was 34.
  14. My Zilla Zilla is Zilla.
  15. My Zilla Zilla is milk.
  16. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  17. My Zilla a fan of Zilla Zilla.
  18. My Zilla Zilla is Zilla Zilla.
  19. My Zilla Zilla a Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  20. I used to Zilla my Zilla up in Zilla and make-up.
  21. I Zilla my Zilla, Zilla Zilla, in 1972.
  22. I am 5'11" tall.
  23. I Zilla Zilla Zilla to be a Zilla.
  24. My Zilla, for a time, a Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  25. I Zilla Zilla Zilla to Zilla.
  26. I do Zilla a Zilla.
  27. I am Zilla of Zilla.
  28. I do Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  29. I get so Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  30. I Zilla Zilla.
  31. I was a Zilla Zilla Zilla 12 Zilla.
  32. Zilla Zilla Zilla, I Zilla to the Zilla.
  33. My Zilla is Zilla.
  34. Zilla Zilla Zilla my Zilla Zilla Zilla, Zilla Zilla.
  35. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla the Zilla.
  36. My Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla and Zilla.
  37. I used to be a Zilla.
  38. I Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  39. I Zilla Zilla of Zilla Zilla Zilla to Zilla.
  40. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla and Zilla.
  41. I Zilla Zilla.
  42. I pick my nose.
  43. I do Zilla my Zilla.
  44. My Zilla Zilla is Zilla.
  45. I Zilla the Zilla Zilla Zilla to Zilla.
  46. I Zilla Zilla.
  47. I do Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  48. As a Zilla I Zilla Zilla.
  49. I Zilla Zilla in a Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  50. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  51. My Zilla Zilla Zilla is Zilla A Lady.
  52. I used to dye my Zilla.
  53. I have a Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  54. I do Zilla a Zilla Zilla.
  55. I am Zilla at Zilla in Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  56. I Zilla Zilla to Zilla.
  57. I love to sing.
  58. I've got a Zilla.
  59. I used to Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  60. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  61. I do Zilla Zilla.
  62. My Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  63. I Zilla to Zilla.
  64. I talk in my Zilla.
  65. I walk in my Zilla.
  66. I Zilla.
  67. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  68. I used to Zilla.
  69. I Zilla Zilla to the USA.
  70. I do Zilla Zilla.
  71. I do Zilla Zilla.
  72. I Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  73. I Zilla Zilla Zilla in a man.
  74. Zilla I feel so Zilla and ugly.
  75. I Zilla Zilla a Zilla Zilla.
  76. I Zilla Zilla my Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  77. I have no Zilla Zilla.
  78. My Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla and Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  79. My Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla is a Zilla.
  80. Zilla my Zilla Zilla.
  81. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  82. I Zilla at the end of the film, Inn Of The Zilla Zilla.
  83. My Zilla Zilla is Zilla.
  84. I wish I had a Zilla Zilla Zilla of Zilla.
  85. I Zilla to be Zilla Zilla Zilla a Zilla.
  86. I Zilla Zilla a Zilla.
  87. I Zilla up Zilla Zilla Zilla I care to Zilla.
  88. My Zilla is Zilla Zilla.
  89. The Zilla PC is Zilla O'Dray.
  90. I Zilla haven't Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  91. I Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla in Zilla Zilla or Zilla Zilla.
  92. I have no Zilla to Zilla.
  93. I Zilla my Zilla Zilla Zilla 3 Zilla.
  94. I am Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  95. I Zilla Zilla.
  96. I Zilla.
  97. I like it when it Zilla.
  98. I don't Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  99. I Zilla Zilla Zilla my Zilla a Zilla and Zilla Zilla Zilla Zilla.
  100. I love my bf Zilla my Zilla.
So Toho, sue me. Another interesting one is to yankeeblogify your page. This is how my page renders after I've been yankeeblogified. You should try it Richard ;-)

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