Friday, December 31, 2004

Old Year's Night

And now, the final hours of 2004 tick away. My bath is run and I am about to shave my bushy face.

A couple of phone calls and now myself + 3 guests have entry is secured to the nightclub in soho.

Should be good fun, there is an MTV Base party and our own private party going on upstairs.

See all of you mother fuckers next year

xx <--- for the girls

Lord of Doom

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Lord of Doom's Wishlist


1. A girlfriend.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Life Goes on

On a global scale the last few days have been filled with shock and pain. Such utter destruction.

Temporarily I am reminded of the futility of fighting fate... I am reminded of the Christian Prayer that speaks of having the Serenity to cope with what we cannot change and the Strength to deal with what we can change - and above all else having the Wisdom to distinguish the two.

But Life goes on.

One day we will all be dead. You, me and everyone we ever met will be dead.

But life will go on.

All that will remain is what we shared and gave to others.

Remember my words - for the future of humanity depends on it.


Sunday, December 26, 2004

Sulphuric Acid and what not to do with it

Picture the scene - Christmas day, at home with your family- it is now evening and it is your turn to do the washing up. A perfectly normal and reasonably experience.

And so, I start the washing up and quikcly cleaned the first batch which consisted of oven dishes, baking trays and so forth. The water was now greasy so I pulled the plug to drain the water in order to fill up the sink with fresh hot and soapy water. Straight away I noticed that the water was draining very slowly - The drain was obviously blocked again. I left the room to give it time to drain away completely, and of course to allow myself to to munch some chocolates in the living room with my sister.

About 15 minutes later I returned into the kitchen. There was an odd smell and instantly my eyes began to sting. My mum was mutterly something about the sink and trying to unblock the drain.

As I moved further across the room towards the sink, my eyes began to sting more. Getting closer and closer to the sink I noticed an awful smell and the burning sensation in my eyes became unbearable.

Some of the words that my mum was uttering began to make sense.

Unblocking Sink

Sulpluric Acid


"Open the back door now!" I instructed, "this is not safe, mum, it's burning my eyes - you need to get fresh air in here now!"

I backed away from the sink covering my eyes which were now stinging badly. I had seen the damage. And it was bad.

The good news was that I never had to finish off the washing up.

The bad news is, that for the next two hours I had to rinse all the cooking utensils from the cupboard below the sink, underneath the tap in the garden. This had to be done because the acid burned through the bottom of the sink and into the cupboard below and all over our pots and pans.

Oh yeah, and today (boxing day), instead of going to the sales and searching for a nice (and excessively expensive) Dolce and Gabbana shirt from Selfridges as planned, we had to go sale shopping for a new kitchen sink because the old one is a total write-off.

And as I write now, my mum and sister are doing the washing up in the upstairs bathroom.

Still, you have to laugh. In the greater scheme of things I think we had quite a normal Christmas.

Ho ho ho

Lord of Doom

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Life Beneath the Lie

Tuesday was more of the usual Tuesday night mayhem. Going out in London is great as long as you keep the scenery moving and are willing to adapt.

But as I witnessed London can be a dark and unforgivingly wicked place. Don't misunderstand me, I am not ignorant to the ways of the world - but every now and then I am reminded of the harsh reality of life - and no matter how many times I see it, I won't and don't ever wish to become desensitised to it.

This is a difficult post to write as I cannot really go into the specifics - and empty generalisations will just bore you- needless to say there are realities that most people I imagine are blind to. If you know what I am talking about then in some ways you have my sympathy, and in some ways you have my admiration.

I will accept that I am fascinated by this other side of life. Sometimes I wish I could become invisible so I can explore so many places in order to see things that I would not be able to see otherwise.

Until I have the ability to become invisible then I will have to be careful not to get too close to the fire, else I will be burnt.

Adrenaline is as frightening as it is stimulating - and this evening I felt the fear twice. My friend told me that I had to switch it and, "turn it around," creating something useable. This evening was a self imposed test - a training exercise almost. I am grateful for the lessons I learned today.

On a positive note, I met a really nice Belarussian girl who worked in a nice Cafe up in town. I learned a few more phrases of Russian from her and with a little help I managed to order most of our meal in Russian. This made me very happy.

She said that I spoke Russian with almost no noticeable accent. This also makes me happy - perhaps I have a genuine talent.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Your Designated Mission:


a) To penetrate deep inside enemy territory and obtain all the Ultimate Items of Power without running out of energy or being killed.

b) You must collect cash from the ATM Cash machine and safely return it home.


a) You will be contacted by a deep cover operative who - You must successfully liase with him in order to swap valuable intelligence and drink coffee.


1-4 Zone Travel Card
Credit Card
Back up Cash Reserve


The locals are to be considered extremely hostile- their sheer numbers and level of aggression make them incredibly dangerous. Do not engage them unless no other alternative exists.

You must use you detailed knowledge of the streets to navigate the safest path to the Rendevouz (RZ).

The poor transport system will delay movement to the Drop Zone (DZ) - from Bond street you must move on foot.

Buses may be available. No intelligence exists.

Be wary of scams, pickpockets, theives, villiams, mad bus drivers, black cab drivers, cyclists, Street Rats and other hostiles.

If possible - you must locate your ally who works at Agent Provacateur (AP) she holds a crucial Discount Card (DP) which will help you obtain Key Item #1.



Mission Outcome:


Mission Successful - All items collected. Contact established. Cash collected.


Minimal - collatoral damage only - The snagging of iPod Headphone and its subsequent destruction underfoot by apparent assailant.

Destroyed headphone was promptly amputated and Right-Sided music resumed as quickly as a possible.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

Secret Objective

There is a bar that I now really like. It is in a central location, and it is a happy medium between normal and trendy - the staff are friendly, the decor is nice, the security relaxed and the music last night was awesome.

I think I will try and arrange a party there next year. A party for no other reason than because I want to.

That is of course a lie. I do have a motive and that motive will be to promote myself - not because of my work or any projects that want promoting - that is something else. This is simply to promote me.

I am not sure if this qualifies as vanity, personally I consider myself to be quite a humble person. I just feel that if I want to control the world around me and try and build myself up within that world I must in fact - start to control the world around me. A party it seems, is a good a place as any to start.

I am fully aware that it is all bullshit, but that is the game - and I want to have fun playing the game. Perhaps it is self obsessed and shallow, but at the same time it is simply only one facet of my life. I am old enough to accept that I am responsible for who I am and I can choose to do what I want. So I am choosing to create my reality as I want it.

Friday, December 17, 2004

Preview: A Playable Spine

That is: For any character in a text, the most basic themes and motivations that a good actor or director should look for in order to create a believable performance.

If these are the pages on my life story written one day at a time, what indeed is my Playable Spine?

This is a preview of tomorrows post.


In no particular Order
February 2004

We had to pretend that we knew what we were doing. Otherwise I would not be allowed to go climbing until I had done an induction proving that I knew how to tie knots and wear the harness and shit like that.

His words, "When you get to the top, hold on to the rope and lean back. I've got you, I'll lower you down."

So - I'm at the top. It feels good. What next?

Let go of the wall.

My body weight rests mostly on my feet. My balance is with my hands.

Is he fucking nuts?

My grip is tight. My hands are what is keeping me in place. I'm at the top of the wall, whilst I probably won't die if I fall, I will probably break something - maybe my spine or my leg.

Let go of the wall and hold on to the rope.

The rope is tied to a harness which is tightly around my waist.

I can't hold on to the rope - because I'll have to let go of the wall first.

My friend is at the bottom, holding on to the other end of the rope.

If I let go of the wall I will fall.

I battle my instinct. My mind is calmly saying let go. My instinct is struggling to accept this.

You're on a rope - it's fine

I relax.

You're tied up safely.

I take a deep breath.

But you'll fall if you let go.

I look down. He looks so small.

Don't be such a fucking faggot - just let go of the God damn wall before anyone notices you've never done this before.

I shift my body weight. I cannot hold onto the rope without letting go of the wall.

Have faith. This is perfectly safe. Just do it. Let go of the wall.

I let go.


Panic - I start to fall - I grab the rope - no use, the rope is falling with me.


The slack of the rope takes up and I suddenly jolt still.

Fuck me. False alarm. It's okay.

My friend lowers me down. Safely I reach the bottom.

To this story there is a moral.

Sometimes you just have to have faith and let go.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Why am I Learning Russian?

My mother was shocked to find that when I returned from Egypt I had picked up a few phrases -not of Arabic - but of Russian.

In a way, so am I... but what is more ridiculous is that upon my arrival back in the UK I immediately started to learn Russian. Within a couple of days I had got hold of an audio Language course, a book on grammer and more recently an interactive CD-Rom.

Of course, I freely admit that initially my primary motivation was because of the beautiful Russian girl that I met out there. But even then I knew that if things did not work out (and statistically the odds were stacked up against me) then it would be a lot of wasted effort.

Allow me to digress momentarily, if I were to attempt to advertise the idea of learning a new language I would say, "Learning a Language Can be Fun and Easy." This seems like a stupid cliche, but extraordinarily, it is actually true. I can barely go out without meeting somebody who can speak some Russian - so I relish the chance to practice. And the more I learn, the more I enjoy it.

As things turned out - there is nothing more between my Russian dancer friend and I. So I was faced with the decision to continue learning this new language or not.

In a strange moment of clarity I realised that I was not learning Russian for her... but for me. Incidentally enough I dated a Persian girl for many years and I never learned more than a few words of Farsi. Somehow it never appealed to me. But something about Russian did.

Anyway, my special friend was not the only Russian girl I met in Egypt, there were about seven that I was friendly with and I kept on thinking to myself that if I could repeat my life and go back there again but and suddenly be able to come out and start speaking Russian it would be amazing.

And if 3 months ago somebody would have told me that yesterday I would be spending the afternoon in the pub speaking Russian with the Polish girl that worked there I'd have probably told them to fuck off. But I did. (okay it was the odd phrase here and there...but I was suddenly aware of how much I had learned - and still wanted to learn)

All in all it is quite mystifying but somehow something feels "right". I love the idea of being able to speak this exotic language. My vanity is such that I feel that anybody who hears me speak Russian will be impressed with my intelligence. My stubborness is such that now that I have said I will learn Russian - I will not stop until I have learned Russian. But the Vanity thing is important - very important.

My vanity is what primarly made me start to learn Salsa, and with Russian my vanity/pride is kiicking in again - I am suddenly taken back to being 9 years old.

It is 1987 - On the TV I see a feature about the Challenger Space shuttle and the open trials they were having. I remember that there were various mental and physical tests -at the end of this little news feature the presenter said that beyond these mental and physical tasks was the fact that the successful candidate would have to learn to speak Russian. And this stuck with me. In order to be an astronaut - I would have to learn to speak Russian. (and as a 9 year old - that seemed an insurmountable obstacle)

So here I am - satisfying my inner child.

Also, I think of the Clint Eastwood Movie FIREFOX where Clint Eastwood would have to learn to THINK in Russian, all the James Bond movies... the cold war... Spies... intelligence agents... that Russian Playboy Centrefold I remember seeing a few years ago. All of these little things add up in my mind and make my decision worthwhile.

If I let you into a secret - I can speak Finnish as well, but this is through no choice of my own, I speak Finnish because I am half Finnish. (my grammer is terrible, but my vocabulary is reasonable) It helps with my pronunciation of Russian. But Russian is my choice... it feels right. And I cannot explain it more than that. Typical English arrogance is that everybody speaks English - so why should be bother to learn any other languages. Fair enough, but vanity makes me want to be better than them. Which leads me to my final point.

There is one final reason which for the time being I shall keep to myself. But I shall say this:

One never knows what the future holds.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Tuesday Bullet Points.

I am woken up by a phone call today at 2:00pm.

Second day in a row I curse myself for oversleeping.

Again, I do not have the time to pump weights or go shopping in the West End.

I get a phone call from one of these guys about one of the music videos I am lined up to shoot next year. Probably delayed until February. I expected this.

I get an e-mail from the animator I am working with. We still have a weenie bit of ironing out to do.

I make a call to a girl who has connections with some good South London music people. No answer. I leave a message.

I get an e-mail confirming my provisional place(+1) on the guestlist for a rather swanky New Years Eve Night out. I wonder who I might take.

I have Kentucky Fried Chicken for breakfast and spent what remains of my afternoon in my friends record shop.

I go to Salsa in place I used to go to regularly. It is nice to meet the girl I had my first Salsa Dance with again. (I was quite into her earlier this year and it all seemed to be leading somewhere nice...but that is another story) It really is quite nice to see her again - this makes me happy.

I also enjoy a dance with an attractive Greek girl. This makes me happy.

On the Tube ride afterwards I listen to some old Pirate Radio Sets from 1994 on my iPod. Dream FM 107.6. This also makes me happy. I hear a remix of a tune that I did not know their was a remix of - this is one of my favourite Old Skool tunes. I an overcome by the poignancy of the moment.

I go back to that bar to follow my spider sense and see if that other barmaid is working. She is not. Although disappointed I go home still happy. Happy because I realise it doesn't take much effort to do some things... but these things, they make life so much more fun.

Now I sit at my laptop typing on my keyboard,

Shortly I will put up the Christmas tree and then watch a DVD in bed.

Tomorrow I hope to wake up and pump weights in the gym. Maybe if I have time, I will go to West End and do some shopping. But I do not hold out much hope.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Monday Night Mayhem

I got out of bed at 4:00pm and I cursed myself for oversleeping. (I had woken up at 4am and had insomnia until about 9:00am - With my day I had planned to venture into town to go shopping in Selfridges and maybe try it on with some girls who worked up there - I also wanted to do a serious session in the gym. Maybe even get a haircut. As it goes - I failed all three of these elementary tasks.

I did however manage to buy a Christmas tree.

Anyhow, in the evening I met up with some work pals and we drove to East London and has a nice curry meal for dinner. After than we headed back and then into the West End to go to some bars and clubs.

I took my pal to a Salsa Club on Charing X road which was quite cool. The place was crowded and had a few nice girls. The problem is that I have not been to Salsa in a while so I am a weenie bit rusty. And these bigger Salsa Clubs (as a opposed to more friendly class-based venues where people go to practice on a regular basis) are quite intimidating if you are out of practise or even if you are just shit, or are ugly/need a haircut.

It takes quite a lot of effort to ask a girl to dance and depending on the venue she can turn you down flat. Let me elaborate:-

In the proper Salsa Clubs where the girls are all super crisp and people are out for a night out - the hit rate (chance she'll say yes) is low. The factors that affect her decision I think are as follows. (of course like most things of this type, since I am a man trying trying to figure out a woman's way of thinking - I am probably utterly wrong)
  • How good looking you are.
  • How good looking she is.
  • How good at Salsa you are.
  • How good looking she is.
  • How well heeled you are (if you like a tramp - then a no no.)
  • How much she is sweating. (most important - because this is an indicator of how much she has been dancing - and she may want to dance with you, but she way just want a rest first.)
  • Random Unknown Factor. (there is no way I could ever figure out what this is.)

It is wise to observe her first, to see how good she is and of course to also how many men she turns down.

In the more class based venues the above still applies, but generally people are out for practice and being friendly so the hit rate is much more higher. (Even higher still if you did a class with them too)

Nonetheless, it is quite tough asking a girl to dance - not simply because you risk rejection, but because you then need to dazzle her with your skills. But that is another issue altogether.

Anyhow, I really wasn't in the mood and I am somewhat rusty - also I am in desperate need of a haircut. I did however see a girl who I recognise from another club I used to go to. She was standing behind and was being chatted up by a complete moron who was telling her about his company and all this incredibly boring shit about companys and being a company director...blah blah. Just to put her out of her misery I had to rescue her and whisk her away to the dance floor leaving that poor sap to himself.

Anyhow I quickly got bored so we then went to another bar and I immediately hit it off with the barmaid. She was a very nice girl (a dancer - as you might know I have a soft spot for them) and I contemplated giving her my phone number.

I wrote it down and went as far as returning to the bar to take back my empty glasses. At the last moment I stopped myself however. Not because I was afraid or nervous or anything but I realised I was only really doing it for the sake of doing it - and over her shoulder I noticed the other barmaid staring intently - my spider sense was ringing and it told me not to give my number to the dancer because it was the other girl who was interested. (I had met her very briefly the week before and she definately had the X-Factor to her which I had not really noticed. The dancer was nice, but something... I cannot put my finger on it, something said I shouldn't do it.)

So I did not pass on my number. Instead I will return and try it on with the other barmaid. Maybe even tomorrow.

Who knows.

Anyway, we went off in search of another place towards Covent Garden that was open. We found none. To my eternal shame I ended up in Tiger Tiger... which was FULL of a bunch of corporate whores (nothing new there) but it was some stupid function so there were lots of Hooray Henrys trying to be as obnoxious as possible.

After 10 minutes we left and went home.

It is now 03:34am and I am going to watch Star Wars on DVD now.

I think I will return to that bar tomorrow during the day and see if I can talk to that other barmaid.

Sunday, December 12, 2004

I am haunted by a Demon

This is no idle and stupid musing of a bored adolescent in desperate need to add the illusion of excitement to his life. This is no pathetic attempt to glamourise myself or be pretentious enough as to suggest that I am worthy of being haunted by an actual real life demon.

But I do have a demon. And I hate him.

His strength is through fear. He plays upon my fears and my doubts.

I must crush this ugly and stupid demon. One day I may look back and spit upon him. But for now this demon vexes me immeasurably... he has a name - you might have heard it before for his name is Procrastination.

The two music videos I wanted to shoot before Christmas have been delayed until next year. This is not the end of the world, but I feel like I am just wasting time doing nothing constructive and it fucks me off. I am not pushing myself - or those around me enough.

All I am acheiving is getting closer to the end of my life. I know that for me to acheive what it is that I want to acheive I need to learn to motivate myself and to motivate those around me. I can do it when I need to. But I need to become a unstoppable machine.

In my head I am creating an image of myself - the person I want be - in my heart I feel that I am growing into the person I want to become. Slowly but surely I am creating myself. Sometimes I am aware that we are each blessed with the immeasurable power to define our own reality - it is something however that is the truest distinction of Theory Versus Practise.

Anyone can say those words - but to truly feel them and to truly believe them takes heart and trust and faith. The words may make sense - and superficially you might agree with them... but to feel them is something that I am trying to do.

Anyhows, I suppose I must simply take these few weeks and focus on pumping weights and learning my Russian. I feel that it is important to always move forwards and make progress - in which ever way is possible at the time.

(I sound so gay - Perhaps I should become a lifestyle guru and help to coach others to success?)

Friday, December 10, 2004


I added this Haloscan Shit to Allow Easier Commenting and have now lost all my comments!!

Damn Damn Double Damn.

And believe it or not... I even actually had some - and I was proud of them.


I spit filth and venom.


For a few moments I even considered going through my blog and re-typing them out!
(but that would be really immeasurably sad... and would demonstrate how desperately in need of validation I am)

Thursday, December 09, 2004

2004 Highlights TOP TEN #5

In no particular order

TUESDAY JAN 20th 2004

Carrying a spring in his step and filled with false confidence, The Lord of Doom strolled into the Salsa club. He was a long way away from the first lesson he'd had a month previously in Prague.

'Salsa lessons in prague', he thought to himself. Had such a jet-set sound to it. These losers would be no match for his Salsa skills. He'd journed across seas to learn this exotic dance in faraway lands. This would be easy.

"Yeah there's a beginner class," His friend A-- had re-assured him. Entering the main hall and staring at the circle of bodies, twisted and contorted in devious Salsa moves he froze in abject terror.

He turned to A-- "There is no fucking way I can do that, I've only had one lesson.WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING?"

"That's the beginner class." His friend replied bemused at the fuss.

"There is no way those guys are beginners, what the fuck are they doing? I can't do that." With his false confidence betrayed he sharply turned and sat himself down in the darkest corner he could find.
"I'm gonna sit and watch."
"Suit yourself." and A-- promtly walked off to join the class.

(As it turned out... it hadn't been the beginner class at all - the beginner class had been in the next room. But this was discovered too late.)

Later that evening, A-- brought over some of his friends. The Lord of Doom smiled as he was greeted by a charming young lady. S-- her name, although she preferred to be called S--. He hadn't noticed her before but in a simple gesture of kindess she made a first impression more lasting than any smile or glance would ever acheive.

Leaning over she asked him if he would dance with her. After mumbling fora few moments that he did not know many moves and had missed the class. She ignored his pleas and led him to the dancefloor.

The walk was infinate. Every giant step, a giant leap, taking him closer to the impending doom that was his embarrassment of not knowing what to do.

A deep breath.

Fuck it.

Here goes.

And suddenly it was easy. She responded gracefully to his uncertain lead.

She had style. Definately she had style. And between counts she'd throw in a couple of moves, a sideways glance. Her hair would twist and flick around.

Damn she looked good.

She invited him to raise his hand on the count of 5, letting him know that she would spin when given this signal

I can do this thought the Lord of Doom.

Raise your hand.

Easy peasy.

Several times The Lord of Doom counted in his head but kept on missing the 5 count, eventually he made it and raised his hand just as his mental counting reached 5 . And then as if by magic a beautiful thing occured.

Perfect in it's performance.

Immaculate in its form.

She pivoted and turned.


The Lord of Doom could Salsa!

2004 Highlights TOP TEN #4

In no particular order. part 4
July 2004

It was a bright summers day and I had gone to the gym/ruuning track to pump some weights and clear my head.

At the gym it is often quiet during the day and I usually train there twice a week. Oddly enough, the running track is one of the few places I can trully say in London that offers a bit of peace and quiet. It is airy and bright and you cannot hear the sound of traffic. I know the staff quite well so it is relaxed and laid back.

Nonetheless, the gym manager had his mountain bike there and I asked if I could have a go. He had quite a nice bike and of course he insisted that I did not do any skids.

How many self respecting big kids and resist the urge of doing skids?

I increased my speed.

Raised my self up from the saddle and shifted my weight forwards on to the front wheel.

I saw the space.

Planned the move.

And pulled the brake as tight as I could.

The wheel locked tight.

I pitched up.

With my weight already shifted forwards there was not a lot I could do.

(At this precise moment I must explain to you what I realised at that precise moment: The brakes on this cunt's bike were the wrong way around. In UK the left brake is the REAR wheel. I later learned that he had imported his bike from the USA where the left brake is the FRONT wheel. Personally I think it is irresponsible of him to not tell me but at that moment I had other priorities.)

It was the front wheel that had locked.

Totally. The tyres grip was solid to the ground.

My speed was too much. The bike stopped moving.

I did not.

Pitching up onto one wheel.

No matter what - I was going over.

Slow motion.

The ground looked tough.


My head landed at the same time as my shoulder.

Staring at the blue sky.

I'm sure that fucking kid from the Simpsons was there cos I heard him cry. "Haw-haw."

I have one thick skull. But I had one fat dent in it and a dirty great bif scab. Not a lot of blood. But scratches and shit all up my shoulder.

For the next few weeks I had to recount this above story countless times because I had a huge scab on my head above my eye and on my cheek. And on my knuckles. Needless to say, it drew a lot of attention to me.

On the plus side, bruises and scabs around my eye and on my knuckles made me look one hard bastard who did stuff like fight people. I was able to stare out everybody.

Little did they realise that a supposed adult like me had mashed himself not through fighting or cool stuff like that - but by trying to look cool and do skids on a bike.

Tuesday Night Fun and Games

You coked up mother fucker - I do not want to follow you to a fucking strip club.

Were my thoughts.

They continued. I don't care how fit you tell me the girls are. I am simply not in the mood. and I wouldn't fucking follow you even to the bus stop.

I waved him off, "Listen, mate I'm just not in the mood. That's not what it's all about."

"Well if you don't want to - how about you want a girl instead. £30 full sex. All nationalities. Swedish, Spanish, French.... Russian."

What the fuck kind of broken down girl charges £30 for sex -or worse still, what kind of girl is forced to charge £30 for sex... and you'll be taking a cut out of that too.

"Nah, man it's cool. I'm cool" I said.

"Well you want a pick me up? I've got cocaine. Yeah, I've got cocaine on me. Good stuff. My girlfriend is Colombian and every time she comes back she brings it back...Un-Cut stuff. I've had some myself."

What - YOU have a girlfriend? Furthermore you mean to tell me that YOU, you have some connections with Colombia??
(not that I do cocaine - or have ever tried it)
You expect me to expect to believe that I can buy pure cocaine from a broke down ass filthy looking mother fucker plying his trade on the fucking streets...

I might be blonde.

But I'm not a cunt.

I look him in the eye, "Alright, mate, I'm cool, but next time I'll know who you are. What's your name?"

Big mistake - oh fuck. here it comes, he wants to touch my hand... he is going to shake my hand.

Ettiquete would normally dictate I remove my leather gloves.

Ettiquette can kiss my arse.

Afterwards for a moment I consider throwing my gloves away.

Anyhow - let us shift back:

Because of my irregular shift patterns and so forth I end up with a lot of time to kill on odd days of the week. So recently the Tuesday Night out has become something of a convention since I do not usually go to bed until 5:00am or 6:00am and my time is unhurried.

So last night, for the second night in a row I found myself walking the streets around West End and Soho in the early hours of the morning. This time I was with my accountant friend.

We went to a few nice places... at first glance quite touristy, but mid-week they have a nice laid back vibe and are really quite pleasant to go to. Every good place seemed to be having a private function or another - we managed to get into one bar in town and sneak into the private function upstairs. The girls were all very nice looking and very well turned out - but most of them seemed to be quite young.

Nonetheless we sat down and surveyed the room. I clocked three girls sitting to my immediate right and decided I would go and talk to them. All I had to do was wait for the loser cunt that they were sitting with to fuck off and go to the toilet.

(In honesty they were quite young looking - and I couldn't REALLY be arsed with it, but I figured I had nothing to lose - and besides I had to find out whose party it was we were crashing - and they were going to tell me)

Eventually the loser cunt did fuck off to the toilet and I immediately grabbed my chance. Of zero interest to me it was when I found out that it was some stupid Law Society party. I did however almost choke when I discovered that all three of these girls were Russian... oh had I known that in advance...

Nothing really developed with those girls, I played it wrong and honestly couldn't be bothered. Also, the two that I was not paying too much attention to, seemed to fight with me to regain possession of the third girl.
(A lesson to be commited to memory about the bitchiness of girls)

A tally of the day and all in all I managed to speak Russian to SEVEN different Girls. Almost every time I go out in London I will manage to find a girl to practice some Russian with. Maybe I meet them in a bar, or they are working in a shop but they are all over. That is not to say that Russians are all over the place. No. It is quite hard for them to get over here. But because of the English membership of the EU, and freedom of movement within it, there a lot of girls from Poland, and recently Lithuania, Slovakia, Czeck Republic working or studying or travelling over here. London being the capital city attracts them all. All of these countries used to teach Russian in schools and so a lot of people speak Russian.

And so I am thankful that I am learning Russian.

And for a moment I am surprised with myself too.

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

I am Reborn

I feel alive.

I feel reborn.

This is nothing to do with the change of URL.

It is simply incidental.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004


Fuck Andy Warhol - 15 minutes is not enough.

Today I gently basked in the glory that only having a publicity agent can allow. He's a luvvie you know (they call him Darling) and he's a lowlife (I've heard some calling him Maggot) - but I shall not hear a word spoken against him - he is now my agent and he shall represent me in America. (Contracts waiting approval)

Maggot Man!

Nonetheless, I have just got in at 3:00am. I had to go to Watford to finish the computer animation on this commercial we shot. Missed my train back to London so I didn't get back to Euston til 1:00 and then I had to walk to Charing X. I took a detour through the verminous streets of Soho but it was nice. My iPod kept me company - and I do like walking. It is a good way to see the city... and at that time the streets are quiet.

Otherwise I am a weenie bit narked since this low budget music video I was due to shoot this weekend has been put back til next year. This is a shame because I have several other possibile projects lined up - but these people want to see my completed reel before really commiting to anything.

Nonetheless I suppose I can only but wait. I just get frustrated because I don't like it when I cannot really do anything productive. But there is not a lot I can do.

Ho hum.

I suppose I will have to pump weights and do some more Russian language lessons.

I had an exceptionally vivid dream about that Russian girl and it really has thrown me about emotionally because even though it was not real, it stirred emotions in me and has made me doubt the obvious reality that I am trying to accept.

Who knows what the future holds? I don't.

Perhaps, God willing I shall see her again. It's a long shot but it is nothing I can count on. Somewhere in this wide wide world is a girl for me, maybe I already know her, maybe I do not -but I am thinking of her.

I wonder if she is thinking of me.

Sunday, December 05, 2004


noun : grasping and shaking a person's hand (as to acknowledge an introduction or to agree on a contract)

Footnote: with women etiquette dictates that you must do so only if she offers her hand to you. The following doesn't apply.

What am I talking about? The simple handshake.I doubt it is possible to assess a man's character in a simpler way.

My observations are thus: Eye contact is paramount - A man that looks in any other direction that in your eyes can usually be classed as insincere. I might further add that he will probably be weakminded. Furthermore, he will probably be stupid and/or ignorant.

Worse still is a man that grips your hand towards the finger end. This prevents you yourself from properly shaking his hand and results in you yourself gripping his fingers. This is a clear sign of an inferiority complex. This man is probably commitment phobe and more than likely hates women. Some might argue that this can is a control freak because at the same time he is cutting your handshake off and forcing you to adopt his weak grip. This is a possibility, one which I must consider further.

There is also the palm down handshake whereby a man offers his hand palm down forcing the reciever to adopt a supposedly passive position. This is a ridiculous and pathetic attempt to assert some kind of power over the receiver. It is a clear sign of an inferiority complex and no further evidence is required to prove this.

There is also the drunken over zealous handshake whereby a man will somehow prove his manliness by grabbing and squeezing and then pulling the other close in and perhaps patting on the back whilst laughing and joking. A man who does this is afraid that people do not like him.

Then we come to the "snide" sneaky handshake. The hand is offered slowly with a carefully measured speed. Eagle eyes watch you and stare into your eyes. looking for any signs that you recognise the obvious contempt that this person has for you. This person may even smile. This is the most devious and cunning person who should be avoided at all costs.

Finally, worse than all else is the weak grip. Somehow, through something or another which I find impossibly to understand - the shape of the hand changes. There is no energy and the end result is some weak, lame and pathetic excuse for a handshake. This man is of weak character and mind. He will have a troubled relationship with his mother and is most certainly a closet homosexual.

You will be well advised to take note for what I say is true.

Saturday, December 04, 2004

2004 Highlights TOP TEN #3

In no particular order. part 3
November 30th 2004

An assortment of degenerates and losers sits around a small stage in a seedy strip club in Soho. Myself and my good friend sit in the front row just at the right hand side of the stage.

I'd never heard this song before but the music starts to pump out and it was instantly memorable:

"Do it now, lick it good, suck this pussy just like you should,
Right now, lick it good, lick this pussy just like you should,
My neck - my back, lick my pussy and my crack."

This tune MUST have been written with lap dancers and stippers in mind. If you don't believe me go to one of these establishments and ask for that song to be put on and find the fittest dancer to dance for you.

Nonetheless, even in my seat I couldn't help myself dancing. The girl saw this... oh she knew I was gonna tip her.

This may not seem to really merit inclusion as a top ten moment. But I'm picking my Top Ten moments for a whole variety of reasons. Some of them are a few minutes long... some of them are a whole lot longer - and some are funny, cute, painful, sad or just plain wierd.

Friday, December 03, 2004

2004 Highlights TOP TEN #1

I have just read a blog that had a post that offered such insight that it immediately brought me back to a moment 2 months ago - which I consider to be part of my Top 10 moments of 2004.

The blog was:

And it reminded me of this:

In no particular order. part 1
October 3rd 2004

Packed and ready to go I sat on the bus. Nobody really spoke. My two friends sat up front. Unlike me, I felt that they were really looking forwards to returning home. Out of the three of us, and indeed the rest of the bus who consisted of honeymooners and couples, I sensed that I was the only one on board actually leaving something behind.

The journey home was going to be long. The weather was hot, but I didn't care anymore. Outside I was a deep golden brown - inside I was grey. I held my passport and flight tickets tightly - 7 days before they had promised fun, excitement and sunshine. Now they offered nothing.

"Are you going to come back to Egypt?" She had asked me.
"Honestly... No." I had replied.

And now I knew that I was saying goodbye to someone and something beautiful. I put on my iPod, queued up a song and played it on repeat. The masochistic part of me knew that music would stir it up. And the song worked a charm. The melody stirred my heart strings and I knew that forever I would be able to listen to that song and remember the exact feelings that I had then.

I felt such a rush of emotion. I almost had to blink back tears.

It was not quite sadness, not quite joy, not quite longing, not quite sorrow. I quietly remembered the last few days and everything so simple and pure that we had experienced. Her soft skin, her blue eyes, her blonde hair. The words we'd spoken, the moments we'd shared.

"I'm 26 years old," I had told her,
"I am old enough to know better. This is no more than a holiday romance, but it feels so...."


I was leaving.

I gazed glumly from the windows looking out at the desert that looked so harsh. In a moment I felt a rush in my heart, the emotions gushing through my veins.

Everything was accelerated. For that whole week I had been a experiencing a heightened sense of consciousness, the highs had been so high, and the low was at that moment extraordinary.

The bus driver, the hotel staff who's waved us off, the passengers around me. If only they knew what I was feeling. But they never would, they never could, and if it was possible, I'd never share it - the feeling was mine. Totally mine.

I closed my eyes and allowed the feeling to permeate through me. Joy and sadness...But above all else gratitute. Gratitute for experiencing a meaningful connection with another.

I knew I would never see her again but that was one week I will be grateful for, for all eternity.

Thursday, December 02, 2004

2004 Highlights TOP TEN #2

In No particular order #2

March 2004

Four more fucking weeks and we'd have done it... The Cheque had cleared... but we suddenly were looking at a 40% deduction.

What a cunt.

For various reasons I cannot elaborate much further beyond thus:

A good friend of mine and I set up a small company and we were masquerading and a professional organisation and dealing with a pretty big blue chip London based company. In short, we made some money. Quite a bit relatively speaking. And then we lost some money. Quite a bit relatively speaking.

And it seemed that we were dangerously close to being unveiled as the mischeivious reprobates we really were. I spent a weekend of fear and worry dreading the inevitable and phone call that was coming.

Because I was going to be summoned in to meet one of the bosses - a man that would make Satan seem like Santa Claus. Shit scared as I was I figured I had nothing to lose, and the inevitable verbal blasting I would receive would be worth it because at least I'd have a good story to tell. But there would be NO WAY that I would be able to"fight him" on his terms... the meeting WAS going to end in my defeat. We'd fucked up - not our fault totally, but we really didn't know what we were doing and this would be instantly obvious in a situation like this. All our effort had gone up in creating a smokescreen which would blow away and leave me standing naked ready to get fucked senseless.

Nonetheless - my associate had manged to pull some string and the inevitable phone call never came. In fact - We even came out smelling of roses because they still wanted to deal with us. Now THAT was lucky.

What did I learn from all of this? That if you're scared... you must jump in deeper - really and truly - it is rarely as bad as you think