Better Living Through Cleanliness

2005-07-30T18:33:00.000+01:00

Q. How many Ewan McGregors does it take to Ewan McGregor a Ewan McGregor?

A. Ewan McGregor!

2005-07-18T17:39:00.000+01:00

I am a clerical officer, or if you will, a grunt. I have much in common with those characters from the classic video game Quake. You could call me cannon fodder, either. BUT... this job actually stresses me out a great deal, in my first three weeks I don't seem to have learnt anything at all. I still make stupid mistakes and I still find it virtually impossible to talk to immigrants over the phone. I'm still to shy to talk to most of my co-workers. Getting up at 6am is killing me. I hate commuting, and I keep falling asleep on the train. Last Thursday the only reason I even realised that I had done it was the fact that the tall Asian guy who had sat beside me since Leixlip Louisa Bridge had become a petite Irish girl at some point which I hadn't noticed. Over the last few weeks I've played Solitaire and Hearts enough for several lifetimes.

And this stupid interactive composition is no closer to being done than it was three weeks ago. I should probably take this opportunity to big up Miller Puckette, inventor of PD. Much of the software that I've been using this past year has been free, in particular PD, which is a kind of graphic-based programming language for audio and midi applications. It can do really nifty things, but I don't seem to be having much luck in thinking of interesting applications, though.

Still, if my paycheques ever clear I'll be able to buy crack, and all of my problems will be over. As we all know, crack is considerably less harmful than coffee or diet coke. And at this point probably cheaper than either. I can bring myself to drink coffee, despite it being a staple for most of my fellow commuter grunts. It makes many people want to poo, but in my case I'm struck by the urge to vomit. It's dis-GUST-ing!

Oh, and those London bombings, which everybody on the entire fucking internet seems to feel the need to comment on. Okay, here goes: I think that blowing up people is wrong. In particular I wouldn't want to die in a subway carraige, but then again I wouldn't want to step on a landmine either. My point is that given the amount of people starving to death right now fifty-two people isn't a particularly huge number. I can remember when I first started college as a fresh faced eighteen year old I told people that I was a pacifist. Which is silly. While I absolutely admire Buddhists and their commitment to pacifism, I just don't believe that it works. Look at Tibet. Pacifism would only work if everybody else was a pacifist too. In this spirit I offer the following solution to the Western/Middle Eastern conflict: we blow up America AND the Middle East. Then we go out for pizza and ice-cream.

In other news, on my second day I got on the wrong train and ended up in Howth. However, Howth is excellent, and I took a six km walk along the beach. I bought my first Rush album. The excellent, and beautifully shot Carnivàle came to and end with a surprising anti-climax, so I no longer have an reason to watch tv. Since walking to and from the train station is only half the distance to the college, I've had to make up for it in other ways. I've been taking the stairs to the fourth floor.

So, that's all of MY news... Now where did I put that crack pipe?

Vroom!

2005-06-16T14:41:00.000+01:00

Whatever has happened, I don't know, the important thing is: I had a two and a half hour driving lesson this morning. I drove to Naas, like the gigantic gobshite I am. I made various mistakes. I sat there looking sad.

Found A Job

2005-06-04T18:53:00.000+01:00

So, I'm gonna be a civil servant. It could be exciting. Y'know, being in the service of civilisation. Fighting the good fight. Holding back the hordes of barbarians who wish to destroy our way of life. And that way of life is burocracy! My appointment is with the Department Of Social And Family Affairs. I might end up as that guy in the dole office, who hands out the cheques, manically grinning and chiming "Don't spend it all in one shop!" to one and all.

I've had worse weeks.

Spark

2005-05-30T17:41:00.000+01:00

It's a particularly light shade of red, y'see. Ah, the giddy charm ofa Monday in the Music Technology lab. Swiping my swipe card through the swipe card thing on the door. Trying to get my smaller-than-average brain to comprehend the basics of the Csound phase vocoder. I shouldn't whine. My life is good. I just happen to lack motivation. I need to get motivated. By this guy. You remember Mr. Motivator, right? More pointless nostalgia: here.

Anyone who enjoys 'good old fashioned rock and roll' deserves to be eaten alive slowly, but special genetically modified super-maggots. These people are a disease on Western society that should be wiped out in the most humorous/horrific way imaginable.

No, not really. I was joking.

I like standing around the corner from the practice rooms. This is where I go when I feel overwhelmed. It looks across onto a field. It had a patch of dandelions in the spring. I had waited for weeks for the flowers to bloom, and when they did I came back a week later, and they had died. Today, I saw a family of cats. The two kittens were completely black like their father. Their mother grey and tabby. I paticularly noted the extent to which she behaved like a mother. How she sought to protect her children; standing her ground as her offspring fled. She did not run flinch against the obvious threat that I posed to her; my arms flailing, screaming at the top of my voice as I ran towards them.

Cats are rubbish.

2005-05-29T13:40:00.000+01:00

#include(stdio.h)

int main(){

printf("programming is gay!\n");

return 0;

}

Adrian Vs. etc.

2005-04-05T16:24:00.000+01:00

Today, as I began to prepare for my Civil Sevice aptitude test, I was confronted with the fact that I can no longer do simple algebra. That is to say, I can't do it with a pen and paper. I've become so utterly dependant on computers that areas of my brain have completely rotted away. I'm pretty sure the are that deals with tact is gone too.

Since the future of BLTC on blogger is in doubt, I should direct you to the livejournal incarnation, it will probably be where I update in future, as blogger has become too unreliable.

The Secret Diary Of Adrian Mee Aged 21 1/2

2005-04-01T17:11:00.000+01:00

Friday April 1st

Feelin' fine!

Tungsten Orange / Anemia Red / Prison White

2005-03-28T16:35:00.000+01:00

In my dream I am held in a room. It is adjecent to a bar, which has people in it, they are unresponsive. I realise that in my sleep I have been exposed to horrible things, and this is how they retain power over me. I associate pain with certain sounds. When I hear them, I might feel, for example, an intense stabbing pain in my side. I realise that I have been awake for at most a third of the time; I have been sleeping an unreasonable amount. During sleep I am vunerable. The room is grey/beige, and without windows. The people in the other room don't feel particularly inclined to interact with me.

It's the sterile, uncaring world that Kafka described. It is a world that I don't understand, but I am aware that there are people (authority figures) behind it, that control it.

And chavs, fucking chavs! Skangers/ the great unwashed.Clad in Burberry check, and Nike runners. The chavs from Maynooth are a cut above the rest, though. They're probably thinking deep thoughts as they sit by the side of the canal, fishing and drinking cider, and swearing at their mates. Jaaaysus!

Adrian:

2005-03-26T16:19:00.000Z

Advanced Global Personality Test Results

Extraversion		33%
Stability		13%
Orderliness		53%
Empathy		30%
Interdependence		70%
Intellectual		30%
Mystical		36%
Artistic		56%
Religious		36%
Hedonism		30%
Materialism		23%
Narcissism		10%
Adventurousness		23%
Work ethic		36%
Self absorbed		76%
Conflict seeking		50%
Need to dominate		83%

Romantic		63%
Avoidant		56%
Anti-authority		63%
Wealth		16%
Dependency		90%
Change averse		90%
Cautiousness		90%
Individuality		50%
Sexuality		56%
Peter pan complex		90%
Physical security		76%
Food indulgent		30%
Histrionic		43%
Paranoia		76%
Vanity		56%
Hypersensitivity		90%
Female cliche		56%

Take'>http://similarminds.com/global-adv.html">Take Free Advanced Global Personality Test
personality'>http://similarminds.com">personality tests by similarminds.com

Michael Jackson Is A Figment Of Our Collective Imagination

2005-03-22T18:02:00.000Z

I never used to consider having a cold, as being sick. My experience this week, however, has changed my mind. My head is filled with used porno magazines and the contents of ashtrays from a million council estate houses. And probably some Bernard Manning jokes too. Various business models, graphs, etc. Also, the plot lines for a year's worth of Emmerdale (formerly Emmerdale Farm). The point being: bad stuff. Stuffed up with the mucus that my body foolishly produces. I can't breath, I get headaches. I'm drip fed Lemsip. My beautiful nose is red. When I dance (i.e. sneeze) I raise the dead.

'Adrian, what did you do to deserve this?', you may ask. And also, another visit to the orthodontist today. There were various tools, the uses for which I couldn't possibly comprehend. Something that shines an intense blue light into my mouth. There is an accompanying orange screen for my eyes, as well as the yellow goggles. Essentially the closest one can get to an alien abduction without the anal probing. Also, I noticed that my orthodontist was chewing gum. I found this unsettling. Like Bob Geldof plucking food from the mouth of a starving Ethiopian child, or Paul Merton saying something genuinely intelligent and humorous, or Justin Hawkins wearing tasteful clothes. You remember Justin Hawkins, right? He was the singer in Def Zepplin. He's dead now.

As for the Michael Jackson thing, THINK about it, you over-literal goons. Oh wait, sorry, I came over all Ddmmyy. for a second, what with the berating celebrities and what not.

Normal service will, etc.

Mon Ami, Pierrot

2005-03-20T17:01:00.000Z

Over the last few days I've been experiencing a great deal of rage for no apparent reason. I've been trying to set people on fire with my mind. It's warm and dusty today. It's frustrating to feel that my brain is 'going off', like a yoghurt that's been left in the sun. A pile of useless mush that's really of no use to anyone. My mental powers don't seem to work on small cats either. There is a silence that is soft and grey, and gentle and soothing.

I've left the previous post up, despite my better judgement, as proof of my mental degradation. Words come bad. Despite Catherine Murphy's objections, I actually like the idea of Maynooth being a dormitory town. I remember being small. And leaning how to sing O Clair de la lune. Or the whole 'Slumberland' idea from the Simpsons. Maynooth is where people come to rest. Like those drifting beacons. We've got neatly ordered suburban gardens, soft breezes, dust and streetlights.

I've never listened to lyrics. I remember 'Penny Lane' being the first pop song that I can remember hearing. It was on the kitchen radio, and I asked my mother what the words: 'Penny Lane is in my eyes and in my ears' actually mean. She told me the song didn't mean anything. I've never felt the need to decipher songs since. It's perfectly acceptable to me that songs and poems can mean absolutely nothing, which is probably why I was never any good at English in school. I got a D in Jr. Cert. English, y'see.

Some Useful Phrases:

2005-03-17T15:23:00.000Z

I have failed to, etc.
I cannot/could never, etc.
I apologise for, etc.
I'm sorry to ask, etc.
I don't know.

NAPALM JESUS!

2005-03-15T12:37:00.000Z

jesus had short hair and a cropped beard and a rounded jewish skull. he is the hero. the woodchopping father figure. willing to let his blood flow for our sins. tthe holy grail, etc. although I've read neither the Bible nor the Da Vinici code and so, in my ignorance of both I am uniquely qualified to give an impartial opinion. I'm not biased by having read one of them before the other: It's all true! Even the stuff that contradicts the other stuff! We're supposed to love each other, but it's okay to pluck out each other's eyeballs and stuff. The Lawd loves all of his children, but condones genocide. How are we supposed to make sense of the world when we're fed this contradictory nonsense as children?

Ah, the tiny and utterly confused person that I once was. Oh lordy! Adrian: now in stereo. The question I always ask: what are they trying to sell me? Whoever wrote the Bible was obviously trying to sell something. People have been emptying their pockets ever since. I'd hate for anyone to think that I was being dismissive or condescending. But, well, perhaps I am.

Adrian Vs. The Chiropractor

2005-03-10T13:10:00.000Z

On Tuesday morning I visited the Maynooth Chiropractic Clinic for the first time. Over concerns with my back, obviously, but these concerns coincided with a flyer that had come through my door advertising for one of the doctors. I had some understandable concerns about this type of treatment, which some consider to of dubious merit. Upon entering the softly lit office, I found a woman with her daughter in the waiting area. The office had new agey, Native American music, and around the walls were posters with slogans such as 'Five Dangerous Words: Maybe It Will Go Away', and 'Keep Your Appointments: Each One Builds On The Previous Ones', needless to say, such heavy-handedness did not help to alleviate my concerns.

After this brief wait, I was sent in to see my first real-live chiropractor. He introduced himself as Patrick, and shook my hand. He was a youthful American with blond hair and a surprisingly clear complexion, etc. He spent a few minutes listening to my concerns before he began to inspect and adjust my back and neck. I was laid on a table, and he told me exactly what to do, and what he was doing all the while. Being adjusted was a surreal experience, imagine someone tipping you on your side and pulling your leg, or twisting you neck, or snapping you back. I can't deny that I felt immediately better for having had it done, though, despite feeling a bit light-headed and headachey for the rest of the day. Come on, even Arnie loves dat!

Monochrome

2005-03-07T15:52:00.000Z

I am constantly tired and unmotivated. Also: I am a hideous stereotype of the worst kind, a hypocrite who tries to convince himself that he's an individual but who is really just your average whining, pretentious student with absolutely nothing of value to contribute to the greyscale, overcast world that I inhabit. My words are getting away from me, but that's the least of my worries. 256 shades of grey. I keep forgetting important things, currently the awkward elastic for my braces, an evening meal, and in the past I would regularly forget to take that pesky Cipramil stuff. I've still got a box of that in the drawer beside my bed. I may get really down someday and swallow the whole box. *JOKE*

I may not have emphasised this enough in my Sunday-related post, but I just can't seem to feel any kind of connection with the world around me. It's a sad and confusing world. Maynooth is beautiful. I would love it so much if not for the people here: the chavs, with their tracksuits, souped-up cars and thumping white label dance music, the self righteous, middle aged Catholics with their disapproving glances, obnoxious students, culchies and girls plastered in make-up, with short skirts. They all wander around, without any fondness for each other or themselves. What have I learnt to aspire to, I sometimes ask? The answer is: NOTHING. I'm afraid of people in general. People froth with glee when I fall, glad that it's not them on the ground and eager to make me feel like a fool. My inner child still cowers in fear.

Oh, cheer up. I'm just venting!

Half Empty

2005-03-03T15:21:00.000Z

SU elections in NUI Maynooth, today. Essentially it's an excuse to waste a whole lot of paper. Also, I saw a girl with Collagen in her lips in the canteen. Somehow it seemed much more real to see an actual human being (as opposed to a celebrity) that had undergone ridiculously unnecessary cosmetic surgery. Not that I mean to sound compassionate or anything. I'm plainly not.

Also, the spell checker on blogger doesn't recognise the word 'blog'. I suppose that's ironic or something.

Sunday Afternoon, etc.

2005-02-27T15:59:00.000Z

I stepped out the front door, and everything seems to be in sharp focus. There hasn't been any snow since Thursday and it is dry and overcast. Every shade of grey, green and brown seemed particularly clear. I decided to go to mass this morning. I crossed the road and saw a violent scene up ahead. There were several figures: short, I assumed that they were teenaged kids fighting. My next door neighbour past them, coming towards me, he noticed than, made no comment, but said 'hello' to me politely. It emerged, as I approached them, that they were not in fact teenagers, but four Eastern European men. Each had a moustache, and shallow set eyes, but none were bald, or even had grey hair. As I got closer, without seeming to stare I could see no recognisable emotion in the eyes of any of these men, even the man with the thickest moustache, who was the target of at least a headbutt and a punch. He was most vocal.

It reminded me of a bus trip with Dol. We were happy and it was a Sunday morning, probably about the same time. A bunch of loud obnoxious children in their early teens got on the bus at the end of the Quays. We both thought that they were speaking some Eastern language, until about twenty minutes in, we realized that it was in fact a particularly thick north Dublin drawl.

Anyhow, I was on my way to mass. For the first time in a few weeks. At the entrance to the Church I was confronted with various candidates for the North Kildare Bye-Election. A polite greeting from Labour candidate Paddy MacNamara. Another held a leaflet in my direction, but I did not acknowledge him. I entered the church and sat down on the bench closest to the main doors. The Catholic Church is what connects the town's past with it's present. Middle-aged people crowd into the building, to give praise to our lord. They, like many generations before them, give cold, judgmental looks to anyone over whom they think they may have moral superiority. I variously stood, sat and kneeled, with my mind only half on what was being said. It's much the same as it's always been; there are a few brown faces and a pleasant Glaswegian Curate, but that's really it. I sat there amongst these people, with my head down (as Christians we are taught to bow, we're not worthy, after all) and felt no warmth. I grew up without a sense of Community. Then came my favourite part, when we 'offer each other a sign of God's peace': the handshake. To my left was a short middle-aged woman who shook hands with me out of obligation. No pleasant smile. A cold and brief handshake. I am, after all, an unshaven young man wearing a suede jacket and loose fitting trousers. Unlike the Eastern European men I had encountered earlier I could register emotion in her eyes: no Christian warmth or neighbourly love, though.

Also a new section in BLTC:
ADRIAN RECOMMENDS:
*Maynard's Sours: for a real sugar hit
*Stina Nordenstam: the perfect antidote to the likes of Ani DiFranco and Alanis Morissette

The Soft Wall In My Cranium

2005-02-25T17:37:00.000Z

It's Friday, which can mean only one thing: a mass exodus from the leafy grounds of NUI Maynooth. Upon approaching the gates of the old campus I was confronted with the hoardes of youngsters filled with the zest of youth ready to go out there and enjoy life with every fibre of their being. I don't ever remember being that young, nor can I remember ever having such enthusiasm. This leads me on nicely, to the subject of the previous three posts. A few weeks ago I was rooting through a pile of papers in my bedroom in order to find a notepad of some description, but instead found another treasure: a copy from my days in Primary School. It was for used for english excercises, although only the first few pages had actually been written on. Towards the end I found three stories that I had written. Although I can't be sure, I must've been between the ages of 6-8, when I had written these. I decided that they were the best thing ever, and that I should post them on the internet for all to see. Without any kind of explanation, of course. They go some way to demonstrating how my young mind worked. Most stream of consciousness-type writings end up sounding utterly contrived, whereas here I was trying to create a coherent story each time, but they just came out jumbled up and often not making any sense. If all of this contemplation is getting too much for you: here is a picture of some arseholes.

I actually tried to retain the original spelling mistakes, but I seem to have, inadvertently, added several new ones. Bwa ha!

My Aeroplane Story

2005-02-22T14:29:00.000Z

I was in an aeroplane doing stunts. I did three loops. I went upside down. And I crashed. Before I crashed I jumped out with a parachuate. A bird dropped a worm on my head. I landed on a beach. I went swimming, I came out with a jelly-fish on my leg. I was told to go fishing in the sea I gave in the jelly-fish.

A Very Funny Story

2005-02-22T14:28:00.000Z

I was cycling to the shop to buy milk for my mum when I saw a little man. He put his foot out and he triped me up I went flying off my bike into a tree. I looked out of the tree but he had disappeared. Come back you little elf I called but he did not come back. Well at least he had not taken the milk money. But he had taken it which I soon found out.

When I told my mum. She told me to make up a better reson to have lost the milk money. I came to that same place there was a trail of sticks. I came to a place with loads of elves. They were dancing around a fire. I squirted the fire with a water pistol. The elves tried to zap me but they missed. I jumped into the pond and I swam To the treeI climbed upI saw that it was everyone in my class playing a prank on me. the end p.s. I got them back.

The Story Of A Hero

2005-02-22T14:27:00.000Z

I was cycling to school when I saw a gang of people throwing bombs at a building. I told the police about it. The came to the place where I saw the people.

The police followed the crooks to a cliff. I had seen another person in the car beside us. The person came to the cliff too. He was a hero. He tried to leap at the crook but the crook moved out of the way the hero fell off the cliff. I went to his funarel. As for the crook he was put in jail with his partners.

It's Wet, It's Cold And I Fell On My Bottom

2005-02-21T14:52:00.000Z

Although it's not actually all that cold, when you consider the extreme cold in Afghanistan, or Yatusk. Why, the Irish climate is actually really mild. Similarly, it's not really particularly wet in Ireland when you consider what some must endure. However, that I fell on my bottom, there can be no disputing. I slipped and fell down the wet, icy steps of the Rye Hall PACR, and am now bruised and wet and a little bit embarassed. Also: it's Monday. Following on from the bestest weeked ever it's difficult to go back to the boring and mundane aspects of life with any amount of enthusiasm. I woke up today to find that it was snowing. It's not the kind of thing that spurs me out of bed, to be honest.

Sadly, I've become resigned to the fact that I will never make a programmer, but I've decided to throw myself into getting rich the easy way. Wish me luck!

Little Creatures

2005-02-16T14:26:00.000Z

In many ways I don't feel that I've changed at all since I was a small child I only try to hide my naivete and fear and nervousness now. This is good. Only start to worry when you stop seeing the world like a child does. Children are completely open to new ideas because they are born knowing nothing. Nothing is beyond the imagination of a small child. Don't you wish you could believe in faeries and aliens and Santa Claus?

In other news I became somebody's uncle last night.

Okay Relax, And Assume The Position...

2005-02-15T12:28:00.000Z

There's no point in even pointing out that St. Valentines Day is a cynical Hallmark holiday. Why bother? Everyone does. Get over it, it's hardly the greatest evil in our society. Mine was a strange one, incidentally. A Production Seminar which involved recording a demo with a Dublin based band. After two hours I had lost the will to live. The studio is not a fun place to be. Routing, sampling rates, degradation, overheads, SM57, clipping, floor tom, ProTools, blah. Why didn't I do finance? I wept tears of boredom. Tears that flowed like a great river sweeping away all in it's path. Then I wept some more. 'If you're lucky they'll just call you ga-ha-haaaay', apparantly, I don't know what that song was about. The band were admirable considering the fact that they were being stared at like labratory mice, by a bunch of MA students. Not the most romantic day of my life. I can at least take solice in the fact that there are many people out there who are much more unhappy than me. And I do.

Happy Valentines, Spuds!