Friday, September 29, 2006
Dear Friends,
As most of you now know, after 9 and a half years together, She and I have decided to terminate our relationship based on a mutual understanding that I'm no longer romantically required in her life. Although I was kindly asked to stay in close proximity to witness, and indeed participate in a new, redefined partnership on a more collaborative basis with an unspecified number of local applicants, I have discovered that I no longer love Ireland or Irish people quite so much after all (in 36 months I never heard anyone espouse fidelity as a virtue - a post-Colonial, post-Catholic reaction maybe. Good luck in keeping up a stable+civil society for the next generation, guys) and would rather live somewhere, no, fucking anywhere else.
So bored of Dublin, tired of London (Hush now, Dr Sam, this is not the time to point out the obvious) and needing to get some distance between us, I made a snap decision about where to move on to. However, after being denied a work permit for Narnia, I have determined, through dartographic methods, that I would like to live in Toronto, the capital of Canada (after Ottawa).
Therefore I would like to announce that I'll be leaving exactly 3 weeks ago today without saying a proper goodbye to you all. Admittedly, I tried to see as many of you as preferable and I thank you for your kind words and even kinder physical gestures. Almost everyone has understood rather well the situation and been very fair and supportive. Several ladies have come forward and offered a consolation I thought highly generous and I'm truly sorry I declined/got scared and ran. It fair warms the cockles of my heart and the heart of my cockles. If it's any consolation, I've been beating myself silly over it ever since. I do admit that it was occasionally boring having had to put up with the same three holes for almost ten years, no matter how beautiful the fleshy frame around them. She tacitly accepted that I cheated on her but of course I never did. And je ne regrette rien...
...sauf que la fille D, la fille K et la fille Sans Nom sur l'autobus en Espagne qui was well up for it, man.
Blindly presuming none of you have slept with her yet, I won't bother to tell you where the front of the queue lies - you'll be able to see it on Google Earth if you're that interested - and whilst I could caution you against many dangers of such an outcome i'll simply warn you instead to do me the friggin' small of honour of not making it known to me. I can thus retain, no matter how misplaced, some measure of respect for you, allow the possibility of a return of some small portion of positive feeling for her, and, who knows, maybe even one day regain some miniscule self-respect of my own, if I knew where I'd left my sense of self.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank her colleagues and employer for initially taking 18 months of her life away from us both the very minute we arrived in Ireland, from anywhere between 7am to 12am for five, sometimes six and occasionally seven days a week. It really helped me prepare for the future as a single man. Also, you've been there all the way, helping her to make the tough business decisions that enabled her to finally remove me, close members of her family and even parts of her own personality from the way she lives today. It's just what she needed to really kickstart this next, more mature phase. I know she's safe in the good and caring hands of a multinational business software corporation and a large group of calm, well-adjusted co-workers, no, friends, who care so deeply about her that they would never let projections of their own difficulties in life cloud their advice and judgement. You can't see it but I salute you all.
And yet, I'm hardly blameless in all this, despite some overly partisan friends' benevolent whispers. Together we planted the seeds of our destruction and I added much of the fertiliser. Sadly, by the time i'd heard the right advice on Gardeners' Question Time and popped out for the weedkiller, she'd already started harvesting the crop and I was left alone, save for a redundant agricultural metaphor and a muddy, bloody trowel. For those of you that know a little bit of her life story, you should know that i find it impossible to hold her fully accountable for her actions, even the really fucking schizy ones, for longer than about 15 minutes before my anger crumbles at the thought of her upbringing. Don't hate her. That's my job and i'm doing it.
So should you see her walking down the road, be it Ladbroke Grove or Ranelagh Road, do say hello, do tread carefully and don't remind her of what a toxic fucking wasteland she's turned my heart into. She doesn't really want to know.
Take care, don't fall in love,
Nutgroist
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As most of you now know, after 9 and a half years together, She and I have decided to terminate our relationship based on a mutual understanding that I'm no longer romantically required in her life. Although I was kindly asked to stay in close proximity to witness, and indeed participate in a new, redefined partnership on a more collaborative basis with an unspecified number of local applicants, I have discovered that I no longer love Ireland or Irish people quite so much after all (in 36 months I never heard anyone espouse fidelity as a virtue - a post-Colonial, post-Catholic reaction maybe. Good luck in keeping up a stable+civil society for the next generation, guys) and would rather live somewhere, no, fucking anywhere else.
So bored of Dublin, tired of London (Hush now, Dr Sam, this is not the time to point out the obvious) and needing to get some distance between us, I made a snap decision about where to move on to. However, after being denied a work permit for Narnia, I have determined, through dartographic methods, that I would like to live in Toronto, the capital of Canada (after Ottawa).
Therefore I would like to announce that I'll be leaving exactly 3 weeks ago today without saying a proper goodbye to you all. Admittedly, I tried to see as many of you as preferable and I thank you for your kind words and even kinder physical gestures. Almost everyone has understood rather well the situation and been very fair and supportive. Several ladies have come forward and offered a consolation I thought highly generous and I'm truly sorry I declined/got scared and ran. It fair warms the cockles of my heart and the heart of my cockles. If it's any consolation, I've been beating myself silly over it ever since. I do admit that it was occasionally boring having had to put up with the same three holes for almost ten years, no matter how beautiful the fleshy frame around them. She tacitly accepted that I cheated on her but of course I never did. And je ne regrette rien...
...sauf que la fille D, la fille K et la fille Sans Nom sur l'autobus en Espagne qui was well up for it, man.
Blindly presuming none of you have slept with her yet, I won't bother to tell you where the front of the queue lies - you'll be able to see it on Google Earth if you're that interested - and whilst I could caution you against many dangers of such an outcome i'll simply warn you instead to do me the friggin' small of honour of not making it known to me. I can thus retain, no matter how misplaced, some measure of respect for you, allow the possibility of a return of some small portion of positive feeling for her, and, who knows, maybe even one day regain some miniscule self-respect of my own, if I knew where I'd left my sense of self.
I'd also like to take this opportunity to thank her colleagues and employer for initially taking 18 months of her life away from us both the very minute we arrived in Ireland, from anywhere between 7am to 12am for five, sometimes six and occasionally seven days a week. It really helped me prepare for the future as a single man. Also, you've been there all the way, helping her to make the tough business decisions that enabled her to finally remove me, close members of her family and even parts of her own personality from the way she lives today. It's just what she needed to really kickstart this next, more mature phase. I know she's safe in the good and caring hands of a multinational business software corporation and a large group of calm, well-adjusted co-workers, no, friends, who care so deeply about her that they would never let projections of their own difficulties in life cloud their advice and judgement. You can't see it but I salute you all.
And yet, I'm hardly blameless in all this, despite some overly partisan friends' benevolent whispers. Together we planted the seeds of our destruction and I added much of the fertiliser. Sadly, by the time i'd heard the right advice on Gardeners' Question Time and popped out for the weedkiller, she'd already started harvesting the crop and I was left alone, save for a redundant agricultural metaphor and a muddy, bloody trowel. For those of you that know a little bit of her life story, you should know that i find it impossible to hold her fully accountable for her actions, even the really fucking schizy ones, for longer than about 15 minutes before my anger crumbles at the thought of her upbringing. Don't hate her. That's my job and i'm doing it.
So should you see her walking down the road, be it Ladbroke Grove or Ranelagh Road, do say hello, do tread carefully and don't remind her of what a toxic fucking wasteland she's turned my heart into. She doesn't really want to know.
Take care, don't fall in love,
Nutgroist
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Thursday, September 28, 2006
I say, I say, I say
Q: Why did the Chicken cross the Atlantic?
A: Because it's quicker and cheaper to reach Canada that way than by crossing Eurasia
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Q: Why did the Chicken cross the Atlantic?
A: Because it's quicker and cheaper to reach Canada that way than by crossing Eurasia
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Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I say, I say, I say
Q. What's Black and White and Red all over?
A. Interracial Domestic Violence
I really must get over her
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Q. What's Black and White and Red all over?
A. Interracial Domestic Violence
I really must get over her
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Taken from the Basque news service, who better to write a headline than this journalist:
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World News
BY JESÚS TORQUEMADA
Blasphemy is a crime in many Muslim countries
09/18/2006
In some it is even punished with death. The rules that govern societies of the 21st century are the same recorded in a book written 1,400 years ago, in a very different context. That's something the Pope must know.
Related news
* Pope tries to calm Muslims at his remarks on Islam
Anybody who has ever travelled to Muslim countries realises that Muslims take religion very seriously. Blasphemy is a crime in many of those countries and is even punished with death. Nobody dares make jokes on Mohammed, and nobody discusses in public whether God exists or not. Atheism is the biggest sin that could be committed in the Muslim world.
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I don't know if this got much attention last week but I was certainly surprised to read on the bbc news website:
Great. Note he didn't say Jews actually ARE human beings, just respected by them. Still it's nice to know we've got his respect, even if it is probably just for being wily, devious and quick to bend the truth
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Iran President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has said he is not an anti-Semite.
"Jews are respected by everyone, by all human beings," he told a news conference at the United Nations headquarters in New York.
Great. Note he didn't say Jews actually ARE human beings, just respected by them. Still it's nice to know we've got his respect, even if it is probably just for being wily, devious and quick to bend the truth
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Monday, September 25, 2006
Have you ever fucked a duchess in the middle of the knight?
Have you ever wanked a yankee by the dawn’s early light?
Have you ever kissed your sister in an overfriendly way?
Did you ever see your granddad when he’s sucking off a gay?
Have you ever run round frotting all the objects in the house?
Have you ever fucked a dog into a cat into a mouse?
Did you ever put a pigcock up inside a Rabbi’s wife?
Did you ever hurt your bum so much you damaged it for life?
Have you ever sucked the knuckle from a freshly fisted hand?
Did you ever get the herpes from a 12 piece marching band?
Have you ever licked the nipples of a gang of leprous cripples?
And have you ever been in love?
Oh oh oh?
Have you ever been in love?
Yes yes yes?
Have you ever been in love?
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Have you ever wanked a yankee by the dawn’s early light?
Have you ever kissed your sister in an overfriendly way?
Did you ever see your granddad when he’s sucking off a gay?
Have you ever run round frotting all the objects in the house?
Have you ever fucked a dog into a cat into a mouse?
Did you ever put a pigcock up inside a Rabbi’s wife?
Did you ever hurt your bum so much you damaged it for life?
Have you ever sucked the knuckle from a freshly fisted hand?
Did you ever get the herpes from a 12 piece marching band?
Have you ever licked the nipples of a gang of leprous cripples?
And have you ever been in love?
Oh oh oh?
Have you ever been in love?
Yes yes yes?
Have you ever been in love?
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Sunday, September 24, 2006
Shana Tova to all my jewish reader. Yes, it's 5767 years since Abraham first proved you should never meet your idols, especially if you're carrying a hammer. I'd say the world could do with his sort again. But there it is: 6 millennia of Judaism in the world and still attracting trouble. Now that's what I call a chosen people. Chosen or marked, anyway.
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Saturday, September 23, 2006
I've decided to try again. Is it a symptom of intense boredom? creative spasticism? foreboding loneliness?
Fucking YES
But there's more: I am in a place and time where things might seem worth writing about again. So much has happened to me since I starting winding down this blog I wish I'd had the time and strength and eloquence to write about it. Maybe I'll remember some of that stuff. But for now, I anticipate more of the same mellow dramas and i'd like to document it.
I'm also thinking of stuff I can't use on stage, always the best stuff, and where else to put it?
I also miss blogging. And some bloggers.
But of course, if you know anything about me at all, you'll know that all the above is a complete diarrhoea of lies. The more sincere, the less likely if it's coming out of my mouth.
The real reason for the change of heart is this...
8 weeks ago I was happy. 7 weeks ago I was not. 6 weeks ago I went on holiday with the source of that un/happiness. 5 weeks ago I booked the one-way ticket out of Ireland. 4 weeks ago I found people to take my apartment, buy my car, take my things, convince me not to back out. 3 weeks ago I drove around Dublin and London and said goodbye to people, parents and audiences. 2 weeks ago I got on a plane and flew to Toronto. 1 week ago I moved into an apartment. This week I start blogging again.
It'll be the same or maybe even worse quality writing, with added bile against the world and his ex-wife, so tell your friends - if you're lucky enough not to have had to leave every single last one of them on the other side of the planet so you didn't have to share the continent with the girl who broke your heart with both tortuous and torturous skill after only 9 and a half intense and loving years together.
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Fucking YES
But there's more: I am in a place and time where things might seem worth writing about again. So much has happened to me since I starting winding down this blog I wish I'd had the time and strength and eloquence to write about it. Maybe I'll remember some of that stuff. But for now, I anticipate more of the same mellow dramas and i'd like to document it.
I'm also thinking of stuff I can't use on stage, always the best stuff, and where else to put it?
I also miss blogging. And some bloggers.
But of course, if you know anything about me at all, you'll know that all the above is a complete diarrhoea of lies. The more sincere, the less likely if it's coming out of my mouth.
The real reason for the change of heart is this...
8 weeks ago I was happy. 7 weeks ago I was not. 6 weeks ago I went on holiday with the source of that un/happiness. 5 weeks ago I booked the one-way ticket out of Ireland. 4 weeks ago I found people to take my apartment, buy my car, take my things, convince me not to back out. 3 weeks ago I drove around Dublin and London and said goodbye to people, parents and audiences. 2 weeks ago I got on a plane and flew to Toronto. 1 week ago I moved into an apartment. This week I start blogging again.
It'll be the same or maybe even worse quality writing, with added bile against the world and his ex-wife, so tell your friends - if you're lucky enough not to have had to leave every single last one of them on the other side of the planet so you didn't have to share the continent with the girl who broke your heart with both tortuous and torturous skill after only 9 and a half intense and loving years together.
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Wednesday, September 20, 2006
