Marcus

Immigration

Thu, 05 Feb 2004 04:50:23 GMT

Huzzah! The United States now recognises me as a permanent resident. That doesn't mean I had to take the Pledge of Allegiance though! Still an alien... I WILL visit the UK again some day, honest -- probably when the dollar can buy me something more than just a Sun newspaper. Not that I'm saying the Sun newspaper is worthless, mind...

Drear diary

Sat, 16 Nov 2002 08:43:25 GMT

Am playing "normal" music with drunken friends after pub tonight. Suddenly seized by gothic tendencies. Put Sisters of Mercy (Floodland) on at max vol. Let hair down (after two years without scissors or comb coming anywhere near, is definitely surpassing small of back region. Will finally have to cut, once interfering with arse wiping function. Hope this is distant event in future. However, must admit feel of own hair on naked back is sexually arousing - for others as well as self, it appears... Oh Christ, is this thing on???)

Fuck off, you perverts.

Love,

M. xx

Finally... some opinionated bollocks.

Wed, 02 Oct 2002 04:59:04 GMT

Hi folks. How have you been? Long time no. Good to see you're all alive and well and living the rock'n'roll lifestyles I remember so well from all those years ago... Christ, was it really 12+ years? Time flies when you're having fun. Next thing we know, we'll all have grown old and died without knowing it. Blah, whatever.

Interesting to read your journals; very much in the style of the spoken rather than the written word. Most reminiscent of how I remember you. Stevy and Simon (TS) are particularly strong at invoking voices in my head as I read. Although perhaps I'm just psychotic. Or schizophrenic. Or quadrophenic. Whatever.

Still, enough about you. This is my journal; thus, some righteous wanking.

Stop press - computer games are overpriced.

I was in the Playing Fields in London a couple of years ago, playing Quake 3 and generally minding my own business slaughtering p30ns (oops sorry, slipped into 1337-speak for a moment there) when some visiting tosser^H^H^H^H^H^Hreporter from the Beeb singled me out as the alpha male amongst fraggers and thrust a microphone in my face. He asked me to comment on the clearly outrageous price of computer games, so naturally I countered eloquently with such barbs as "um", "er", "well", and "not really".

Of course, you only think of the Wildest/Cowardliest things to say after the event. I should have reminded him that the cost of production is completely irrelevant with respect to what the company feels like charging and what the public is prepared to pay, the sole raison d'être of companies is to make money, and above all most people don't give a second thought to pissing 40 quid plus change down the urinal of their local pub in a single night, whereas the chances are you'll get longer lasting entertainment and less of a headache out of a fucking computer game.

Love, M. xx

Song of the week: Dexy's Midnight Runners - Come on Eileen.