cream sickle sky while the sun sets in the west

tasch and i are going to the ice rink at liverpool street...

i did not write the above, it was tasch. but we are indeed going! halleluyah!

i have nothing to say.

it is monday. the boy looked at johnny. he said dont you know who i think i am?

i cut my lip really badly and then i ate a grapefruit and the flesh made my bleeding lips sting. it was painful.

tascha just ruined my metaphorical story by asking the somewhat moronic question "how did you cut yourself on a grapefruit?".
my personal space is being invaded by gwen stefani fanatics on the left and german economics on the left.

the spelling of sickle looks wrong. i am paranoid about my own spelling.

why is it every time i try to write a tedious, meaningless blog entry i get about four people reading it over my shoulder? they should all update their own blogs instead of mocking mine.

the lady on the front of the observer magazine eating sushi has pretty hair. even though the article was shit. it makes one glad not to be addicted to botox, texting and other random pointless luxuries.

henry has arrived. he is bald.

i am going to art.

i would like to post an entry but i have alsolutely nothing to say

hmm. i could either not write anything or i could give you a tedious account of the lack of activity in e block during period 3 on a monday. i'll opt for the second one.

-izzy is trying to convince tim that he has hidden MCing abilities, and that he should flaunt them for the tsunami concert. doesn't seem to be entirely effective.

-natascha is listening to her ipod. intruiging.

-i have no idea what ben, katerina and louise are up to as they are hidden behind the computers, but previously katrina and louise were having a bitching session, i forget what about, something to do with louise's daily routine.

-paul and michael have gone to ingatestone. no, i lie, michael is sitting right there, i am going senile.

what a fucking painfully tedious entry. i'm going.

i am contemplating

hmmm. i now have a decision to make regarding who will be evicted from the conpetition thing and who won't. technically henry, paul and katerina should all leave now as they have not updated their blog, but t the same time i am not hugely keen on eliminating people, as a) i have already spent all the money, so there is no financial incentive, and 2) it's really quite fun reading henry, paul and katerina's entries. plus eliminating them would mean eliminating the corner cult's entire sense of ridicule.

hmm. nothing is happening. yelena is writing her blog. sam norman and tim are... sitting side by side contemplating. no they're not even contemplating, they're just twiddling their thumbs. actually they're not even twiddling theeir thumbs. previously they were engaged in a conflict involving throwing the paper holes from inside the hole punch at each other, but have thankfully stopped. now juan and tim are engaged once again in a conversation involving politics. "stop making me sound like that's all that i talk about". well, i'm trying not to, but actually that IS all you talk about, so it's difficult.

"can i just borrow the sellotape for a minute". note 1) lack of manners in this request. 2) potential dangerous uses for the sellotape. "sellotape is a trademark so you need inverted commas around it." actually the "ownership" of certain phrases in the english language goes against my principles. so fuck off. unless there really are very sad people who sit around looking for illegal uses of the word "sellotape" on the internet, then stealing and perpetrating.

anyway, potential dangerous uses for the sellotape. 1) starting a fascist sellotape army with a motive to dominate the world through force and fear. 2) kidnapping sam norman and tying him up with sellotape. 3) using it to indoctrinate young children into supporting his conservative beliefs. not quite sure how that one would work.

to return to the point, well, there wasn't actually a point to any of this except to highlight the double retardness of tim and sam's joint futility.

the bell has gone. cheerio.

happy holocaust day

The court has come. The court of the Nations and into the
courtroom will come themartyrs of Majdanek and Oswiecim. From the ditch of Kerch the
dead will rise, they will
arise from the graves, they will arise from flames bringing with
them the acrid smoke andthe deathly odour of scorched markings. And the children they
too will come, stern and
merciless. The butchers had no pity on them. "They are the
victims" judged the butchers.Today the tear of a child is the judge, the grief of a mother is
the prosecutor.You were what you were
Clean cut, unbecoming
Recreation for the masses
You always mistook fists for flowers
Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Funeral march for agony's last edge
6 Million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be
Arbeit macht frei
Transports of invalids
Hartheim Castle breathes us in
In block 5 we worship malaria
Lagerstrasse, poplar trees
Beauty lost, dignity gone
Rascher surveys us butcher bacteria
Welcome welcome soldier smiling
Soon infected, nails broken, hunger's a word
6 Million screaming souls
Maybe misery - maybe nothing at all
Lives that wouldn't have changed a thing
Never counted - never mattered - never be
Drink it away, every tear is false
Churchill no different
Wished the workers bled to a machine

- Manic Street Preachers

driving around in london at night is strangely invigorating...

stoke newington. that's where my brother is going. hackney is great at night. all the high streets have christmas lights up on january 27th. incredible. the most obscure vehicles were driving around. the water conservation lorry was typically filthy - the lack of cleaning probably an act of water conservation - ha! not that that was even vaguely amusing, i just thought i'd mention it.

not sure how i feel about my brother leaving. on one side it's a relief not to have to deal with him getting stoned every night, and consistently calling me a "fucking moron". jesus, i do more work than him and i am 8 years younger. i think francie is coming back. francie! it rhymes with prancy! and dancy! halleluyah! the best rhyme ever.

what happened to yesterday? it just drifted away. my recorder lesson was great today. well, brilliant actually. my teacher is a genius. but then at the end we randomly got into a conversation about the national front, and he told me to watch out for the extreme left as well, and rambled on in french about it. i didn't get all of it. i cycled home blankly, listening to scissor sisters, because it's the ultimate song to listen to on a bike. i always get home half way through comfortably numb.

things i ate yesterday:
a lion bar
2 tangerines
an orange club bar, at the exploitative price of 45p. yes, i was offically ripped off.
2 rolls with philadelphia and ham in them
3 packets of sweets and 4 creme eggs, shared "communistically" with my train buddies
4 glasses of apple juice
countless grapes
6 pieces of chicken with mayonaise and humous, because i was bored, and when i'm bored i eat
3 more rolls with philadelphia and ham, when i realised that was the only thing availible in the whole house
2 golden deliciouses. deliciouses? is that the plural?
3 more tangerines
and probably loads of other stuff which i blanked from my memory.
not sure why i felt i had to share my entire diet with you. it just feels like a substantial amount. hmmm. there was some thing in the guardian today about how you can easily be thin and a couch potato at the same time. give it a try, folks. then if you're unsuccessful we can all laugh at you...

motorcycle emptiness

i feel empty. i'm not sure where motorcycles come into to it, but it's the manics and they are good. the bell has just gone. fuck. another shit entry with little or no interesting content. people are asking each other about histoy homework. scarily boring topic of conversation. my head is spinning. i feel like biscuits. you can just see the energy draining from everyone by thursday. i hate thursday. it's neither the end nor the beginning, just almost the fucking end, but not quite. my fingers ache and everything seems surreal. i had this scary dream about a poem i wrote when i was 13 that started "they stare with native eyes of sore reject". i forget the rest. it was kinda shit anyway, and melodramatic. 13. like adrian mole. but he was 13 and three quarters. i wish i were him, his life is hilariously disfunctional rather than depressingly so. i just made £30 for the tsunami appeal. you'd think that would refresh me but it doesn't. and now registration awaits.

farewell, faux amis.

People are the means to an end. Ha ha ha.

here is the official word count of the competition:

tim - 2,427 words. this does not count all the tory propaganda/election results/long lists of binary.
ben - 2,426 words - holy shit, you'd better write two more words. it's a good job you haven't paid, and are therefore not in the competition.
berengere - 2,253 words. all written herself. scary or what...?
gwen - 1,654 words. hahaha, several hundred of them are corner cult links/wordcounts/general bitching at katrina. nice one.
michael jones - not officially in the competition, "he is ugly and smelly and a whore" according to paul. he's only up here so we can all laugh at what a scary retard he is. and he's written more than most of the corner cult...
sarah - 813 words, none of which make any coherent sense whatsoever!
theo - 427 words. i have only counted half of the "beo" stuff.
phil - 411 words, even though the whole thing is a "disgusting conspiracy"...
louise - 366 words. louise is better at this than katrina. just thought i'd make that widely known.
katrina - 308, just above the word quota, thanks to an unkown "internet hooligan" i.e. ben.
henry - 266 words. pathetic.
paul - 166 words. ditto.
michael gardiner- 86 words. don't ask, it's michael. no a picture is not worth a thousand words. nice try.
gaby - zilch. loser.

official notice to paul: profile word counts do not count, moron. now go and write 134 more words.

i see 2p coins before my eyes...

the fucking memory stick isn't working. so no rules for now. however, a certain member of the corner cult, namely tim, is breaking one of the rules. it clearly states that "your diary input cannot solely be religious or political propaganda, even if it is fashionably lefty". i could easily exclude tim from the competition. but then again, he would be pretty pissed of (especially as i have indeed spent all the money..) anyway, a fairly uneventful day. WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE COMPLAIN AT HAVING ONE DAY IN THE WHOLE CYCLE WITH 5 LESSONS?? FUCKING ATTENTION SEEKERS. try taking higher maths and physics. according to michael gardiner one maths lesson equals two. ditto physics. (not sure how that works. but anyway..) THAT MEANS YESTERDAY I HAD 9 LESSONS IN A DAY. stop moaning, suckers.

wow, just spent half of period 5 counting tsunami money. i hate counting money that isn;t mine, but i am hoping to use the situation to my advantage, meaning i am going to gain exaggerated CAS hours for it. aaa i see 2p coins floating in front of my eyes, take them away.

the battle for head boy/girl continues. haven't decided who i'm voting for, am currently looking for an antidote to the paul/phil crisis by voting for someone completely different... haven't yet decided who. can't be fucked with speeches and all that kerfuffle myself, have neither the time nor the energy, nor the all powerful chav support.

hmmm. vote henry everybody. and donate to my bloc party ticket fund s.v.p.

cheers everybody. happy birthday phil.

a new addition to the group...

http://comradephil.blogspot.com <--- also "fashionably lefty"... i recently discovered, while referring to the label of my Lion bar, that Nestle's slogan is 'eat well, live well'. oh, the irony. paul wells was mentioned in english today. the teacher said something about paul saying ibsen wasn't actually norweigan. chris sealey said "paul wells? don't listen to anything he says". i thought that was slightly mean, and paul looked upset about the anti-paul comments i put on my blog. so sorry paul. i'll reconsider whether i'll vote for him as head boy... *reconsiders* nope, sorry paul. *later, but can't be bothered with a new entry..* http://huggybear597.blogspot.com/ <--- henry. strange url, but i haven't read it yet. and officially the weirdest url ever.... http://jeezlouiz.blogspot.com <-- louise of course. the ben/louise rumours are all the rage.

that's all folks. *looney toons jingle performed by phil, standing directly behind me*

this is what i do on a friday night...

http://jonezeeman.blogspot.com <--- i have no idea what the fuck this is. dont ask me. ask michael jones. an even more retarded version of michael gardiner.

strange similarities between katrina - "i am not a bitch" and paul wells - "i am not a fascist"...

i'm not getting at katrina just for the hell of it, but that last entry was the fucking limit. "I would like to say that people have now become obsessed - no preoccupied - no slightly involved - with the notion of me being a bitch" - right, fair enough. but then she goes on to say "This is pointless and a waste of my life seeing as though the internet is yet to replace converstion as far as I am aware. And I am constantly aware of the kind of person who will enjoy picking at the grammatical and contextual (?) mistakes. " - WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?! no, of course i'm not a bitch, i just think this whole blog thing is "pointless and a waste of my life"!! katrina - you don't have to fucking do it! don't agree to do the whole blog thing (even though you haven't paid - and i have made concessions as you claim to be broke), and then bitch about the whole idea being "pointless". no, katerina (note, the "e", sucker) the internet cannot replace conversation (which you spelt wrong, by the way). but AN INTERNET BLOG IS NOT A CONVERSATION, IT IS A FUCKING MEANS OF RECORDING A PERSONAL RESPONSE, mine being fucking disbelief at the sheer irony of your attitude.

yes, i am bitching at katrina currently, but I HAVE A LEGITIMATE REASON TO.

at least she doesn't put on that ridiculous voice when in denial, like paul wells. just the look that would melt stone.

nigel, mystery man.

there are new blogs. kat(e)rina : http://wordsareimportant.blogspot.com
and sarah : http://realitylost.blogspot.com, and "beo" - http://bentheo.blogspot.com

can't be fucked elaborating this with my usual shit, am too distracted by the mystery of "nigel"...

oh, just to clear up a number of misconceptions:

1. i am not a "fascist hater", nor do i have a "thing about fascists". i think it is perfectly normal to notice tim and paul wells' fascist tendencies.

2. i DO NOT OVERACT to stuff. die in hell, suckers.

3. "i don't have fascist tendencies, Gwen. I am God" - Paul Wells. "I am merely a monarchist" etc., he is clearly in denial, furious at this disruption to his plan of world/school domination.

4. i am no longer supporting paul wells for the head boy campaign on the grounds of him being a fascist. i am instead supporting phil bloomfield, as he has promised to deliver a communist speech to the whole year.

5. no, i will not vote for you, paul.

6. i never implied that phil was a communist, i simply said he would deliver a communist speech to the year group.

7. today everyone has been a bastard apart from theo and louise. everyone else is on my hate list (yet to be created).

the blog is working

there are currently only three people in the competition - but have amusingly managed to get money off seven people - so four were clearly ripped off. tim is a potential threat - was hoping me and theo could share the money and get drunk, but tim is clearly not allowing this.

it is period one, i am having difficulty staying awake as i stayed over late at my sister's yesterday. it was a comfortable relief not to be awoken at 6am by my mother shouting at my dad/my brother/me/herself about drunken-ness/drugs/how to cook brocolli/ who didn't put the dishwasher on yesterday/ why she hates this house and will file for a divorce/ the hopelessness of the global situation etc. much as i find my mother amusing i am not interested in anything other than sleep before 7.15.

can't be fucked writing any more, my life is actually intensely boring, hence the meaningless ranting.

hahaha, keep an eye on people who forget to sign out of blogspot, then you can secretly edit their diary entries...

oh by the way, here are the blogs that are online and working :

http://tokentorytim.blogspot.com ---> tim. actually no, not tim - a history of conservative politics.
http://faintlydivinebeing.blogspot.com --- > the "Paul Wells is God" site.
http://theoisimpossibletocaterfor.blogspot.com --- > more random paul wells shite, actually described by theo himself as "total bollocks". no, really, it's good.
http://magicalmadness.blogspot.com ---> ben's "improved" site.
http://magicalmagicness.blogspot.com ---> ben's "shit" site.
http://rightanglelife.blogspot.com ---> berengere, who is scarily going to win, although hasn't paid yet...
http://taschisagenius.blogspot.com ---> yes, tasch is a genius, although i have no idea if this is working yet.
http://derangedmonkeyman.blogspot.com ---> don't ask, it's something to do with michael and/or ben.

that's all folks.

a random start to this random project

paul wells turned to me yesterday and said "it'll never fucking work, will it really?" (the addition of 'fucking' to this sentence is due to my hormonal bitterness, which you can ignore). this is my probably unsucessful attempt at revenge.(die, sucker!). it is tuesday night, and as usual i have achieved nothing in the last 3 hours except cook a manky-looking meal for my pedantic mother and tell my brother to die in hell and to stop getting stoned in the garden. anyone should be able to admit that taking drugs in your own garden is pretty pathetic.

i am trying not to make this a viscious page of familial complaints, but 'tis a tricky task, my dears. on saturday my dad tried giving me some father/daughter advice "drinking isn't that good for you, sweetheart". nice, coming from the grahl of pure drunken-ness. it's getting hard to tell the difference between his two emotional states. when he is drunk he wanders around, redfacedly denouncing the labour government and counting his pension. when he is sober he wanders around, redfacedly denouncing the labour government and counting his pension. oh yes, and hitting people on the head and calling them "son", regardless of gender...

anyway, no news in the corner cult this week, although i love berengere's amazing description of the "beautiful girls and ridiculously suave boys" - the most accurate thing i've heard for ages... apart from paul's description of my drunken-ness "gwen could only take about five steps and then she would fall over. and why the fuck did you break that cigar?". sorry about that.

mental note to katrina: i was not lying on the floor because it was a lovely comfortable place to lie, i was lying there because i couldn't get up. k thanx.

seeya buddies xxx

ps. i love you really, katrina xxx