Blue Saturday

maths isn't facts is it, it's axiomatic

i was just bringing Hard Times into it cos iirc it's a book about truth and beauty being irreconcilable and Dickens thinks people should get off their backsides and join the circus or something

Performance Review is such a pointless exercise carried out in bad faith by people who don't understand what they're doing so it can be filed away somewehre and shown to an inspector who isn't going to look at it at some future date

lately i've been questioning this whole "human beings" project i mean has anybody thought it thru? it doesn't seem to be going anywhere or doing anything important and it's making an awful lot of paperwork for somebody

even culture mostly feels like a chore of late.

written language is ok, might be onto something there. everything feels like such pointless busy-work tho, why the hell can't people learn to sit still and shut up for a bit?

i dunno if you attempt any kind of objective review yr father gets v agitated, is my experience, and tbh this may well be one of those universal truth things we were looking for

Hard Times, the best thing about it is that he's giving you one big fuckoff clue in the title what yr english class is goin to be thru the entire term you get to listen to yr classmates (higher level english group b, ie aim for it but tbh we expect you lot to drop down at some stage lol) 'read' it aloud while you manufacture sleepy snot beside a radiator designed by gilliam's set guy and decorated by rob zombie.

you wdn't live in a place furnished and built like an institutional space so how the hell do they expect you to work in one?

like "hi i'm gonna be spending 7 or 8 hours here today doing some stuff i'm not that invested in for some people who don't really care, cd you maybe make the place a little less ugly and untidy and eyeball-crushing please? kthx"

true but then you wouldnt work at home so tbf tbf

the ugliness is like a place marker? to remind you you're at work?

also tbf it's better than doin such work for ppl who actually care

seriously this is madness, i've got nothing in common with these people, why am i here? i don't even know what i'm achieving. plax was on the money, i need to make rent.

i kindof feel like exactly these things that are being used itt to describe these guys as dicks are exactly why they are good. lack of responsibility. bailing out on the debts they said they would pay. its cathartic and refreshing. the deal was not the deal i thought it was. the fine print was unreadable. i wanted the money but not the job. this is how i feel, bypassing the beaurocracies that displace every responsibility. don't phone in sick because its a busy shift. i don't fucking care. its like epic records. standing on the balcony. i wish i could do that. i still have to fucking wait tables every night. i'm glad somebody can. standing teetering on the edge. two fingers. tie the cord, kick the chair and you're dead. if i call in sick its my fucking coworkers that take the brunt. this is it, the production of innocence. my boss is my best friend. we're all victims. there's something to be said for it. the album is so good as well. all uncontainable id. no love. deep web. wrapped up so tight i can't breath. i need something that punctures it. interrupts these notions of responsibility that are predicated on this particular handshake. i hope i can pay my rent this month.

it bares repeating, it's like he pulled something direct out of my brain. i wanted the money but not the job.

the ugliness is in the eye of the beholder, who can say how each individual is to be inspired eh

oh i know

inspiration is supposed to be as natural as breathing eh? that's a liar of a word right there maybe. unless inspiration = sucking something up that's always been there

it's weird how ingrained the Protestant Work Ethic gets into people, wonder if that's nature or nurture. so many soul doctors tell you how important it is to your mental well-being to get into a nice comfy rut and keep yourself busy/distracted

i'd kill to wake up in the morning with such a useful coping mechanism

even if i got my ideal job of snowboarding on the moon, after 8 years of doing the same thing every day i'd still be bored shitless.

well yeah you'd think. it doesn't seem to be the case for everybody. i guess you're only thinking of doing the same task whereas there's other things that cd make up yr working day, in theory.

varied conversations and interactions as such. personally don't go to work for that stuff.

in fact tbh i want soup and my bed, it's December and it's cold and it's miserable you savages why are we going thru the motions?

work network is down at the moment, internet is still up. surprisingly this has made little difference to my usual routine.

btw good flapjack is the bomb, hope you are not eating bad stodgy stuff, here is my mum's winning recipe:

1/2 pack butter (125g)
8 tbsp/120g demerara sugar
2 tbsp golden syrup (slips more easily off a warm wet spoon)
220g oats (1/3 jumbo, 2/3 normal)
melt butter in a pan, add sugar and syrup, stir well, add the oats, mix well, tip into a baking tray lined with baking parchment (24x33cm or thereabouts) & put in oven gas mk 4 for 20 mins. allow to cool but cut up while still slightly warm.

that's nose-bag and butter imo, am not eating any flapjack bad or otherwise tbh

it's all about the golden syrup. course you could just eat it straight out of the tin.

i used to like rice krispy cakes as a golden syrup transmitter but i don't think i have a v. sweet tooth nowadays

prob with sweet teeth is they fall out

booze and depressive neglect and the cost of dentists has similar effect

even by parental proxy ime, hurrah

teeth are over-rated imo, just give me some soup

too much gradgrinding in yr youth

ilx has been relatively quiet for some time

eventually one must recognize that a new quiescent epoch has arrived, but who is going to bring fire and freshness, the streetfighter pyrotechnics, the new science, the leftfield plays and radical beats that get ilx moving again?

pat finn

paddy power.

quiet-era ilx fails to do its job, if i can't be pummeled into mental numbness by a constant stream of information then WHAT'S THE POINT.

or at least lols

I don't research Keatsian arcana anymore; instead, I am trying to learn the silent physical rhymes and looking-glass puns of sign language. "Stars," for example, are inverted "socks." "Number" is a dancing "more." "Thank you" is just a touch away from "good." "Sorry" is "please" closed up and hiding. Never, of course, has my research seemed more essential.

This http://chronicle.com/article/Dream-Map-to-a-Mind-Seized/135966/ is real good

I had an enormous crisis last weekend, cold blast of reality terror – oh god how am I living my life, I have chosen a diseased doubled path that leads to total fear-ridden stasis, stoic rejection of the goods of life, refusal of delight, forgetting my old friends, denying affection, slow financial slide through idleness and reserve, no idea of what could make me happier, crippled by duty, doubt, guilt over hurtful mistakes, no imaginable satisfied death. It all had that high, excited shock quality that early stages of grief can have.

Thought about checking in on Blue Saturday, but suspected ilxing not a way forward on this one.

Anyway, I shook things up and ran around and saw people and I think I know what I have to do for a while.

Happy Birthday and i hope yr plans come good.

I'm booked in for detox in January so i figure i'm kicking wildly against the pricks for a last few stupid weeks.

exciting linguistic throwbacks i have enjoyed this week:

student on the bus describing a presumably fellow student as "half-caste"

dude in my office just describing a non-skinny woman as "jolly"

it's good to be back in the 70s, feels Christmas-y

ilx sending me back twards rw devils advocate t'day, i thought i'd grown out of it tbh

felt that one coming but ctfo dude

yeah but deems 'half caste' was a marketing term used by slave traders, it's just about the most intrinsically racist term imaginable

A teacher referred to me as 'half-caste' when i was in primary school, he thought he was being polite. So did I!

it wouldn't have throwed me quite so much if it was a person of a certain age but this kid looked 20 at most

student was a slave trader, fact. i bet every other word they used that day was 100% thought through, with 100% etymological awareness etc.

And maybe yon fat one is just jolly, y'know

look, yeah, i know, ok? but still, too, ok, yknow? People, life, existence, starbucks, pandemic's teacher, we should all do better and try harder and think awesomer and context and student maybe didnt know he was gonna get ilx'd about it later and probly feeds stray cats and gives to charity etc standard dmac counterpush yadda yadda

i don't think i was being really hectoring when i noted the guy's use of language, it was more one of those "where the hell did that come from?" observations

no man SHAME ON YOU

student was a slave trader, fact. i bet every other word they used that day was 100% thought through, with 100% etymological awareness etc.

half-caste is the sort of word where nobody remotely aware of its undisputed, unambiguous meaning would need to spend a single moment considering its offensiveness

so this kid is more than likely entirely ignorant of all this, but it is interesting and kinda dispiriting when people can get to the age of majority in the uk while being unaware of this stuff

yr knowledge obv greater than mine, we were prob learning about newgrange agus an mo connioloch instead so by all means take the proverbial pinch of salt, idk

idk if i would expect many people in ireland to know the term, but then it isn't full of the descendants of people it conquered, enslaved and categorized according to racial purity

well, there's the fuckin dubs but you're right

Just be thankful they didn't say Quadroon.