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Post by Sprague Dawley on Feb 28, 2019 22:10:05 GMT
Day 784 BD (Before Death)
oh great, miles from home and a fucking puncture in my bike tyre. 0 degrees out today. oh well, I'll just push the lame cunt through this slushy snow to the nearest bike shop, yes, 30 minutes later, here we are... closed. CUNT. Hey, I know another one 20 mins up the street, yes, good exercise this, hard going through this shit snow slurry though CLOSED. F**KING CUNT. Wait on, there's another one just west of here, toes have gone numb through these fuckhead Vibram shoes. Orthepedic relief from my neuroma, all good and well, very comfortable... however TOTALLY impractical for any life simulation exercises here on planet earth. But never mind that now. Ignore the frostbitten toes. Getting fit here, yes here's the place, surely this one won't be... CLOSED. GtFO. Are you shitting me? Wednesdays must be Go Fuck Yourself Day in the local bicycle community. Last chance, one more a bit further up, just another 20 mins slog but I already knew it would be CLOSED. 2 hours walking around like Frank fucken Spencer on acid and my bike tyre is still flat. Wait on, there's one more shop about 10k down this street. Sure of it. Made it about 1km before came to my senses and began the spazzmo trudge back towards where I live. Wherever the FUCK that was. 2-and-a-half hours snow-plough trudging cardio, resistance training, trekking, panting, crying. My lungs must be Greg Lemond getting raped up the Pyrennes by Lance fucking Armstrong after this.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Mar 10, 2019 9:17:53 GMT
Day 665 BD
The weirdest thing happened in the Shinjuku "Rock" Disk Union store in Tokio. It was seriously intimidating and belittling. It rattled me a bit. It let me know of my station in life in no uncertain terms.
There's broke old bottom-feeder me, scabbing throught the 100 yen bin in this EXORBITANTLY priced store and some japanese dude in a THE POP GROUP t-shirt and one of those foppy scarves rakishly knotted at the throat walks in, stands at bin across from me with the insane priced stuff, starting at 6,000 yen and going up and up, and he starts casually pulling records out, giving them a cursury glance and adding them to his pile. 10,000 yen, 20,000 yen, and he's barely even looking at the motherfuckers. No way he's goign to buy all those. There's me poring over whether to pull the trigger on 500 yen lp's and this guy has been in the shop for 5 minutes and he has a 6 inch high pile that could be half a million yens worth. US$50,000 easy. He didnt seem to be a staff member. Then he saunters up to the shop counter, has a laugh with the clerk, flashes his phone and he's gone. Presumably down to his idling jet-black Ferrari to suavely disappear off into the Shinjuku night.
The wife reckons he must've been a Disk Union head honcho who was simply transferring some lp's to another branch. Which is also what I want to believe.
5 minutes in the shop.
FIVE.
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Post by pussycat on Mar 13, 2019 16:49:03 GMT
Yesterday I had this tab open in my web browser at work. I kept coming back to it over and over again, hoping to remember something mundane that had happened earlier in the day, or the day before, or even just goddamned recently. No luck. It looks like there are only two answers to this. Either I'm existing in some kind of sub-mundane life, where the most mundane things that happen to me are so below mundane they're not worth remembering, much less telling. Or my life is so exciting that there are no mundane moments to speak of, but I've become so numb to the sensation of excitement that it no longer has any effect on me. An excitement tolerance if you will.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Mar 13, 2019 22:32:45 GMT
Yesterday I had this tab open in my web browser at work. I kept coming back to it over and over again, hoping to remember something mundane that had happened earlier in the day The only man ALIVE who has ever or could ever make such a comment. Well, maybe aside from me. Or maybe P.Assp'ortvi'sa's.
Life Blog Web Entry #448 BD;CNN Anderson Cooper vs Chris Cuomo vs Don Lemon.These 3 talking heads front their respective CNN shows coming on telly here live at 9, 10, and 11am respectively. Like a dopey plonker I will have it going in the background sometimes all morning, just cos it's in English.
I am a member of a rugby forii full of right wingers that HATE D.Lemon and I just cannot fucken see what is so despicable about him. He seems like such a good bloke! I don't think its cos he's bleck since obviously these rugby blokes worship innumerable bleck rugby players. I think it's cos Lemo is such a far left libtard who also viscerally hates the Cheeto In Chief. That doesn't make him a bad guy! 9 am Anderson Cooper. he looks clever but actually I suspect he's a bit thick. his vocab aint all that and he gets a bit tongue tied and doesnt seem to have the acuity to go for the killer questions. His "handoff" to Cuomo is professional and perfunctory but gives the vibe that Cuomo is the cool kid at skool and Coops is a bit of a stiff who doesnt have the wits to do off the cuff glib repartee with him. Or maybe Coops is such a pro he doesnt like the "handoff" thing at all and wants to keep it all super professional. Or maybe it's cos he secretly has a raging crush on Cuomo and is like a flustered little girl in the great man's Adonis-like prescence. Wasnt Cuomo voted "Sexiest Man Alive" in one of those tabloid bollocks mags back in the day? 10 am Cuomo. impressive vocab and thinks very quickly. Then, at the end, in contrast to the handoff with Cooper, when he hands over to Don Lemon the two have a great big old laugh and chat for fucken 15 minutes. It's like the SNL bus scene where all the black people get off the bus and suddenly a party breaks out. I reckon this is why Coops is so perfunctory, he's thinking, "fuck you, you have a great big old 15 minute chat about the weekend with Lemon yet try to shunt me off as quick as you fucken can. You devilishly handsome cad, you. Oh I could never hold it against you. Unless.... you want me to hold it against you...." <cue massive fappy sounds cuming from under Coops desk> 11 am Don Lemon. i like him but he is a bit repetitive playing the same old anti-drumpf clips over and over again. He goes at his own pace which is pretty slow. Plus his talking heads "guests" are always blecks or wimmin or a combination of both. Ugh! Everyone knows it's old white men that pull the strings. Get with the programme, Lemon! He's probably thinking "man, some of these minority guests I get in here are dopey as shit. I can hardly even stay awake. Still, at least I'm comfortable with them around so I can hang loose without having to be on edge with some cracker fuck sitting across from me all edgey and trying not to think about how bleck I am." |
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Post by pussycat on Mar 20, 2019 13:34:13 GMT
I need to get a screen printing kit fast, so I can make some of these dreams reality.
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Post by pussycat on Mar 20, 2019 13:34:42 GMT
Oh, what will the the boys and girls at the office say when I strut into work wearing this t-shirt.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Mar 20, 2019 21:11:49 GMT
Oh, what will the the boys and girls at the office say when I strut into work wearing this t-shirt. Probably something along the lines of "I'm sorry but that's just flat out wrong."
Crucial Life Style Web Blog Self Help update here c/o Dr Wayne Gunston:
101 Ways To Be Gloomier: expatpress.com/forums/index.php?topic=222.msg880#new |
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Apr 19, 2020 8:00:10 GMT
On Writing.
Every hipster/twitteratitwat is a novelist.
"I am a novelist."
"I'm writing a novel."
"I wrote a novel last weekend."
"I'm trying to get my novel published."
Then you read some of this self-proclaimed novelist's writing and after 3 sentences your brain retreats from your eyes and your thoughts turn to wondering if the washing is properly dried yet.
Me, I write shitty satirical news stories on the internet. I don't have a novel or a short story or basically any semblance of a laid-out, planned, fictional narrative plotline in me. Not one. That shit is WAY too fucken hard. Some people make it look easy. And when I say "some", I mean virtually fucking nobody.
I read some of Katherine Mansfield's short stories this arvo. From the 1910's. She was from Niew Zllnd. I can relate. "The equal of Chekhov" they say. Them's some big boots.
Her stories.
- No $20 words.
- No sparkling dialogue.
- No witty, engaging characters.
- No impenetrably-prolix theoretical gymnastics duplicitously presented under the guise of a goddamn fucking "story" ffs.
You get a bit about what unfolded, what the characters thought or felt, then the end.
10 pages or so and it's done.
So what's the big deal?
I'm sure a lot of ink has been chundered out in regards to that over the last 110 years. Books, etc. Wordy word analysis books. Who cares. It's not like you can teach it. Such a finely-parsed gift that it exists in its own ether. You finish one of Mansfield's short stories and then sit back and think, holy shitballs, that was utterly goddamn masterly. Zero fat. The languid, poignant, evocative naturally-sanded craft of it. Fucking impossible to do well. All the "no's" listed above, and yet the sweet short thing is now seared into my brain, possibly indelibly.
The unreplicable secret of it, to me, is the barebones description of the scene. An utterly spartan economy of words yet it's so brilliantly, brilliantly illustrative that you just have to step back from it, take pause, marvel at it, wonder how the fuck did she just do that, then reread the thing again. That sets the table.
I'm sorry, twitter.
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raging moran
Neophyte
Posts: 1,008
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Post by beta on Apr 19, 2020 22:49:07 GMT
Problem today is that there are more writers than readers. I found my way back here to read. The shitsters can write all the novels they want. 2.33 people will read them in the next 1000 years.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Apr 20, 2020 2:21:19 GMT
Problem today is that there are more writers than readers. Ha, and then you read the novelist write something like, "oh, I never read other peoples novels or fiction." Then how else are you supposed to get any good at it dipshit?
"Oh I've never watched Wimbledon or any other pro tennis players playing tennis but I think I'd like to be a pro tennis player because I think I'd be quite good at it."Do you think that thanx 2 internetz it's just become a bit toooo easy to call yourself a novelist? When I was a kid, being a novelist meant you had a vocabulary that was as big as the goddamn fucking sun. And even then you never let the shoehorning in of $20 words detract from The Story. |
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Post by Sprague Dawley on May 1, 2020 0:22:44 GMT
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Post by Sprague Dawley on May 6, 2020 11:55:41 GMT
wfterrrk, 6 years ago? completely forgot
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Post by pussycat on May 6, 2020 14:41:44 GMT
Writers today are like a bunch of drug dealers who don’t take drugs.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Jun 3, 2020 23:35:49 GMT
Tug Update #666
Downloaded Google Chrome (stop me if it's getting too technical for you) and WFT suddenly the J-Grot categorii were coming up in English. Well, this is an unintended bonus.
Or is it?
Kind of distracting when I'm trying to extradite my plaintiff and suddenly there's all these comically-absurd linguistic rogerings popping up everywhere.
"Trace of caeserean section"? Holy shit that is a niche sub-genre. I am so young and innocent. So much to learn.
More fap updates later.
--SD.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Oct 12, 2020 0:37:00 GMT
Entry #632
Wearing shoes and socks for the first time in 7 months last week was just creepy and weird. As was wearing long trousers. Stupid dolly bird college dress code. Was an odd ethnography puzzling out the ladies' 1st semester forii personalitii and parsing it to in-class comportment. The stroppy one or two online were easy enough to clue out as the alpha mega spunks. The rest though... suddenly the dopey wallflower online is an erudite and worldy mega-spunk. Etc.
Was vaguely bricking it beforehand that theyd all be nervous as hell since it was first time in class since January. New inter-spunk chemistry, dorks vs hotties vs nerds etc.
Then as i walk towards the class I hear laughing and talking... walk in and theyre all great mates having a gaye old time, windows all closed, sitting right on top of each other. Social distancing shot in the brains. At least they were all wearing masks but ffswft.
Matching their 4-month written selves to their actual selves, having never met them before, was weird as hell though and frankly is messing with my head. It7s like meeting a dowdy reclusive penpal who turns out to be a gregarious mega-spunk. To further add to my discombobulation, I administered a wee pole (DON'T) asking "online vs in-class". Given their vivacious joy at chatting nonstop during class I was sure they'd go with "in-class". Nope. Only 3 of the 17 voted in-class. Either my online forii lesson was awesome or they prefer lolling about alone in their jarmies. I'm going with the latter.
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hiccup
thinks "perineum" might be a type of disinfectant
Posts: 290
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Post by hiccup on Oct 12, 2020 2:01:35 GMT
Never understood people who bike in the snow. I was an avid biker for years but as soon as there was a hint of ice, the bike was put away until Spring. It's suicidal to bike in the winter.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Oct 12, 2020 6:45:30 GMT
Never understood people who bike in the snow. I was an avid biker for years but as soon as there was a hint of ice, the bike was put away until Spring. It's suicidal to bike in the winter. Got no choice. It snows 4 or 5 months of the year and Friday gig is way out in the boonies beyond bus lines. It's a good physical challenge although I have had some dicey moments re; minus 20 degree whiteouts. I'll can off once a year when I can't see the gradient of what I am riding on. It's just all white. No spiked tyres. Wide spikey pedals are way more important, iHomo. Gloves, all of them, are useless after 20 minutes at -20 degrees. I've experimented with the lot. Fuck 'em all. Big clunky mittens are the go. |
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hiccup
thinks "perineum" might be a type of disinfectant
Posts: 290
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Post by hiccup on Oct 12, 2020 17:49:22 GMT
Never understood people who bike in the snow. I was an avid biker for years but as soon as there was a hint of ice, the bike was put away until Spring. It's suicidal to bike in the winter. Got no choice. It snows 4 or 5 months of the year and Friday gig is way out in the boonies beyond bus lines. It's a good physical challenge although I have had some dicey moments re; minus 20 degree whiteouts. I'll can off once a year when I can't see the gradient of what I am riding on. It's just all white. No spiked tyres. Wide spikey pedals are way more important, iHomo. Gloves, all of them, are useless after 20 minutes at -20 degrees. I've experimented with the lot. Fuck 'em all. Big clunky mittens are the go. Well, I admire your fortitude, tenacity, and courage. lol |
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Mar 1, 2021 22:55:51 GMT
Web Blog Entry #118-c
I bought a donut last night.
In the 7-11, I just put it in my basket as an afterthought, not really thinking anything of it.
Fascinating stuff Dawley, you tedious fuck.
Well, that's enough of that, time to wind this Web Blog post up and get back to crying in the corner.
The only reason I thought this tepid tidbit of mundane info to be in an way, shape or form pertinent to The Forii Generalis is that on the way home it dawned on me, this is the first time in my life I have ever bought a donut.
Sure, I've eaten the stupid things when other cunts have bought them. BUT I'VE NEVER PURCHASED ONE MYSELF.
WFT is wrong with me? File this one alongside my unworldliness at not knowing the names of any coffees. "El dopio fix me"
Can also be filed alongside my realisation from a few years back, while eating an ice cream, that "WFT I havent eaten an ice cream for at least 10 years" . Pathetic. What a shambolically frugal life.
Never bought a donut in my life and dont know the names of any coffees. I would make a shit cop.
Also, I have been to the Lido (is it still called that?) a grand total of TWICE this century.
FFFSFML
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Mar 7, 2021 0:19:17 GMT
Dear Web Blog.
Hay guyz, B.Ooze here.
Apologies for my absence from the forii.
Been golfing.
It took me 3 days to complete 9 holes.
Confession time, I had too much absinthe to drink. I slept where I fell then woke up and kept swinging. Golf swinging.
While I was asleep some people playing through used my face to tee up their balls. I have almost no teeth left now.
On the bright side, I did post a PB (that means "Personal Best" in golfing parlance) for the 9 holes.
612.
Very proud.
More later.
-B.Ooze.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Jul 6, 2021 0:30:12 GMT
Foriisphere Ethnography #69
Back in the raging, formative days of the foriisphere - the naughty noughties - we used to clash with motherfuckers online and have torrid, torrid times. "This cunt is different to me therefore I will peel shreds off the fucking arsehole online until he comports to my way of thinking". Yeah, that worked out well. The lonely people reduced to seeking human contact online got to feel even lonelier.
These days in the shrivelled, post-apocalyptic ruins of message board BBS culture, and at the risk of sounding like a flaming hippie, I can see how we just have to realise that wankers who are different to us don't have to be excoriated or lambasted. There are so few of us left plugging idiotically away at BBS that we can ill-afford to make some poor putz feel like shit and wander off to twitter etc. There seem to be only a fraction of the huge message boards there once were. I wonder why... (see para 1)
Just find a way to get along with the cunt. Or, at least, accept he is not you and that's that.
In this way, iHomo, the BBS online experience is ahead of twitter on the online sociability/acceptance timeline and moving ever-closer to the real world experience.
Which makes me wonder; where is twitter at now on the online sociability/acceptance timeline? Foriisphere 2009?
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Jul 15, 2021 0:13:21 GMT
Ethnographical Field Study #168; The Japanese College Redbacked Dolly Bird
Disappointed in this years iteration of the Japanese college dolly birds fashion.
It's all billowing circus pants hitched up the ribcage, ankle-length hot air balloon dresses and enormous fat chick blouses. What happened to toight skirts and toight shirts? Toight loik a toigaaa. All these starling-brained virgins ever talk about, apart from Disneyland, is latching on to a loaded Prince Charming so they can flee the harrowing world of workplace harassment and tumble into guiltless disrepair in the burbs. Lunch with the ladies, 666 Easy St baby. Snaring a doctor into marriage is viewed upon as winning the lottery
Girls, you think boys will fall for your beguiling matrimonial bait and switch ruse by you cloaking your hot bod from head to toe in fat chick fashion? That aint gonna fly. Especially when you're so delusionally demanding about the dudes,. "He has to be kind... handsome.... tall... rich.... funny...".
LOL.
That dude doesn't even exist in Japan.
No wonder the birthrate is plummeting; you make yourself look catastrophically undesirable and then etch your standards for the suitors into pure unobtainium.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Aug 21, 2021 3:42:54 GMT
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beta
raging moran
Neophyte
Posts: 1,008
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Post by beta on Sept 27, 2021 10:57:08 GMT
I have no idea how people are going to go back to classes again after not having to be around all the spunk for hours. I used to leave classes feeling drained by that spunk. "Hey, fuck off! I am trying to suffer through my fucked up life full of mistakes quietly here!" No need to get all revved up about it all, is there? Fuck me.
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Post by Gordon, "Gordo", Forthreich on Sept 27, 2021 22:34:15 GMT
The Prodigal Son has returned!
He will surely show us The Light and The Way.
There are a LOT of insignificant threads here up and down the forii just waiting to be dressed down then dressed up.
--GF
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beta
raging moran
Neophyte
Posts: 1,008
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Post by beta on Sept 30, 2021 13:28:41 GMT
The Prodigal Son has returned!
He will surely show us The Light and The Way.
There are a LOT of insignificant threads here up and down the forii just waiting to be dressed down then dressed up.
--GF Only in the darkest moments of one's life does a person realize the importance of insignificance and, rightly, being able to laugh at oneself. Fuck, I missed this place. It's really hard to pretend each day that I give a shit about this or that. I really don't. I am more concerned about moving a sedum today than about much else. Wish I could give a fuck about "the big picture", but having never really seen "the big picture" I have spent my life finding homes in the middle of nowhere. And in the middle of nowhere, damn, the Light and the Way are clear: Silliness and being a dick about it whenever I can. |
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nikkeisindex
Email Address: pneumatic_arse-bludgeon@gunston.com
Posts: 407 
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Post by nikkeisindex on Oct 22, 2021 14:50:06 GMT
The Road To Hell:
It's Thursday at 11:00 and I'm in a bar with my wife. I'm 45, an upstanding American taxpayer, drunk, hungry, it occurs to me, urgently.
There is a Taco Bell across the street. Great, America, this is what you do: you provide shitty fake Mexican food to drunk citizens kind of late at night. Clunk, clunk, yes, door locked, just drive-through.
When I was a teenager it was funny to walk through the Taco Bell drive-through, 50/50 chance of getting served, and who cares, it's the journey, not the destination.
Well, I'm 45 and I have to be up early for work and getting honked at or shot doesn't sound so fun anymore.
Chicago: You provide Mexican food to drunk people late at night. Ask anyone. "What's Chicago?" "Chicago is Mexican food for drunk people late at night."
TWO MILES.
Ooops. And I lived in this neighborhood for TWENTY YEARS. The one place that is certainly a front for drug criminals and is ALWAYS OPEN. ALWAYS.
ALWAYS.
This place? It sucks but it's ALWAYS OPEN.
CLOSED.
FUCK YOU. Fuck your dumb drunk ass, and now, sunk cost fallacy, it's ego now, I WILL EAT FOOD. because fuck you.
So I go in a bar, this place has turned over like 3 times it sucks, again it's not THAT late the barback is very very nice like "Hello friend, looks like you could use a bite. Look the kitchen here is closed and that's that, non-negotiable but right next door they serve food..."
I know this place, this is it, I mean... this is barely better than MacDonald's, it might be worse and Impossible Burger? Fuck you and your non-binary blah blah blah hey you know what? Thank you. I just want something that isn't dead flesh AND you have beer? Ok...
I'm just about to bite down on this pathetic situation when I'm like oh fuck first of all, I don't have a credit card. Why? Because I left it at the bar. 2nd ring ring, wife on phone "Honey, where are you, what are you doing, why, where, who, when, hello."
So anyway I chugged the beer and shoveled down this shitass food and now I'm procrastinating work telling you this lovely story.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Oct 23, 2021 0:13:21 GMT
I have no idea how to "promote" my shitty Web Blog. spraguedawleyii.blogspot.com/No one's ever left a comment. No one even looks at it. Probably doesn't help the cunt that I don't even tell anyone about it. I never even think about it really ffs it's just an afterthought of a dumping ground for copies of nonsense I've posted elsewhere and which I didn't fancy leaving the sole copy of in the hands of some irate Forii Moderator who could blip it out of existence on a casually cruel anti-life whim.. Tried googling "How to Promote your Blog" and was promptly flattened by screeds of mental shit. FFS it is actual Hard Work promoting a Web Blog. And it there's one thing I fucking HATE it's hard work. You're supposed to network with some fuckwits on the internet? Twitter and all that bollockx? Jesus. |
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nikkeisindex
Email Address: pneumatic_arse-bludgeon@gunston.com
Posts: 407
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Post by nikkeisindex on Nov 29, 2021 23:06:34 GMT
Camp Leader's daily exit is an official procedure. What do I wear. Sweater decisions. Down to socks. Shoes. My input is required, yet useless.
Let's say I work a kind of 9-5 job and my wife is a hair stylist, so all bets are off timewise.
Usually I start 7:15 CST at the latest.
Wife's exit program is an escalation of check-ins and reassurances until the grand finale - shoes on, outfit confirmed, exited.
We had one a few weeks ago, yes, ok, yes, I have keys, you have phone, you look good, shoes approved, shoes changed, etc, etc, usual escalation of exit, I give up any pretense of focus and just have a 10 minute exit program BAM DOWN THE STAIRS!!! WIFE DOWN! WIFE DOWN!!! It doesn't matter. I try to explain I sometimes have work calls and I can't just dial in as "wife exiting house," I have to be there.
Even today, going to meet local friend for coffee, usual exit routine, I give up, just focus on wife exit program, 10 seconds, ring, ring, ..... I love you... WHAT CAN YOU POSSIBLY NEED "I locked myself out, you can open front door or back door but I'm not sure when I'll be back or which one is best..."
Ok. All doors open. Unlocked. Confirmed. Can... oh yes before this "I'm meeting a friend at a cash only place and I have no cash" like legitimately I love you but we've been over this, my income is thoroughly based on time sensitive processing. Are you sure you need my full time attention at 7:15 am, are you sure?
Are you wearing pants? Tits, non-visible? Please confirm. Inevitable urination, secured? Please confirm. Keys, phone, weed (hey it's USA), car keys, parking, lunch, please confirm.
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Post by Sprague Dawley on Nov 29, 2021 23:53:20 GMT
Camp Leader's daily exit is an official procedure. What do I wear. Sweater decisions. Down to socks. Shoes. My input is required, yet useless. Had no idea she was around there too. She's quick, I'll give her that. Similar process here albeit less finicky as the years have ground her down. Occasionally she'll come back inside and ask me "does this look strange". I usually give it a diplomatic "no" in tandem with my old trope "who cares? everyone is worried about how they look but they don't really care how you look".Although I did bust out laughing last week when she asked the question and was about to trot off out wearing her pajama tracksuit bottoms and.... her light brown cowboy boots. shakeroney
"You look like the mental people at my work". |
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