Red faces

I really don’t get on with seeing embarrassing situations unfold. Even if it’s a band I intensely dislike, for example, being dicks about something on stage, I can’t bring myself to get enjoyment out of seeing it go down. Because it’s embarrassing. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I don’t like that.

It must be similar to why I don’t like horror movies or rollercoasters or something. I don’t like being scared: the rush does not excite me. So I just don’t like it. I also don’t like seeing others embarrass themselves.

It’s clearly why I don’t like The Office or Curb Your Enthusiasm as much as I probably should. I get little in the way of enjoyment from these uncomfortable situations.

It’s weird though – I don’t think I personally get embarrassed that easily, so why it affects me in such a negative fashion when it’s happening to others I do not know.

I should put that C in GCSE psychology to good use and find out why it is.

That, or just sit here playing Borderlands 2 because I’m really hungover and this is a lame-assed topic. BYE.

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Wrist action

I have naked wrists for the first time in a long time, and it’s weird.

I don’t consider myself one for jewellery, beyond the misguided attempts to rock a gold chain. My brother ruined that by buying me a Mr T-sized fake gold chain. Naturally it didn’t ruin it for me by pointing out the error of my ways and showing I was a dimwit who looked like an arse, no. It ruined it by making my neck go green from wearing it too much.

Ah, to be 12 again. It was a mixed up childhood.

But yeah, not really a person who can successfully wear trinkets. But I’ve always had stuff on my wrists. Plastic bands that were there so long they eventually just snapped – I think they’d fossilised. A wristband that said ‘Evil Ian’ on it that a girl nicked. Numerous festival bands. Even sometimes those temporary bands you get from clubs to say you’re allowed in, at least for a couple of days.

Oh, and watches.

My watch was broken the other week, and yesterday I took off the two Groezrock bands because… well, just because.

Now I have naked wrists. It feels wrong and looks even wronger. I will have to get them tattooed with something so they’re never naked again.

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There must be more to this

I really would like to be able to switch off for a bit: to not constantly worry about things that teeter on the brink of being in my control in the slightest sense. But I can’t.

In the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter, but then in the grand scheme of things nothing matters. In fact it was decided with a colleague on the walk to work this morning that everything does in fact tie itself up nicely at the end like a good film or TV show.

Not necessarily when you die, of course, but in hundreds of thousands – or millions, or billions – of years when everyone and everything there is ceases to be on this earth. If we’ve gone beyond this planet? Fine, wait a bit longer until the entire universe collapses in on itself and everything becomes nothing, and nothing becomes everything.

Then all your loose ends will be tied up. So nothing matters, or something.

Still, it doesn’t stop my brain from worrying. It doesn’t stop me from always being switched on; from being unable to properly relax at any point. Things are always there at the back of my mind, eating away and pissing me off however they can.

And you have to stop and think: why do we do this? A job I like does this to me, so I wonder what I job I hated would do. We, as people, in the majority, aren’t made to work like this every day – we aren’t made to serve, to repeat tasks, to be bored, to just get on with functioning in a glorified slave-driven economy until we expire. That’s just not what people are about.

We should all be running around fields or some such shit, chasing balls and shitting in ditches and… oh, wait, I’ve gone and got people mixed up with dogs. My mistake.

As you were.

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Guns don’t kill people, I DO

It’s going to happen: the new PC is going to come soon. After years of planning I’m finally going to just splurge what little money I have in one orgy of spending probably next weekend before realising I’ve spent too much, bought the wrong parts and have lost my screwdriver.

But hey, I’ll be doing instead of just researching, which is what that post on Reddit I didn’t read today said to do.

Anyway, natural segue, let’s talk about giving the police guns.

Or not. Let’s just talk about how I feel about guns.

Yeah, that’s probably easier.

Basically, I’m terrified of them. I want to shoot them, but only in a controlled, firing range-style situation. Other than that, I want nothing to do with them. I would like every firearm in the world to be melted down and fashioned into a rather fetching piece of jewellery, but I know that’s reasonably unlikely to happen.

If you gave guns to all the cops, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere near them. I bumped into a machine gun copper in Leeds train station once – literally bumped into him – and it terrified me. Irrationally, I know, as it was ‘OH GOD WHAT IF IT HAD FIRED WHEN I TOUCHED IT’ kind of stuff, but still not a feeling I like.

Anyway, the BBC thing, also linked on Reddit, is something I’ve read and is a good read. Especially for the view from Louisiana, where their sheriff entirely misses the concept of having a wider context to his viewpoint. Fat moron.

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Stuck in the past.. ish

On Sunday I went to see a band I last saw in 2005/6, who also split up around that time. I went to buy a tshirt but had to leave early because we needed to catch our train, meaning I missed out on getting a shirt in size medium, a size I used to wear 10+ years ago.

Today I listened to a new Green Day song then had to immediately listen to a 20-year-old Green Day song repeatedly to empty my mind of the shit the new one had put in there.

Once I’ve finished writing this nonsense I will be playing a remake of a 14-year-old game in order to review it. I will also probably be playing a game that has the visual style of an Amiga game from the early 90s.

I just ordered a new checked shirt, the likes of which I have wanted in my life since I was a tiny child and actually enjoyed the concept of lumberjacks without any homoerotic undertones. Or overtones.

I watched the entire first series of a TV show through Sunday and Monday. It was aired in the early 90s. Something called Twin Peaks.

I just glanced up from my computer and saw a joystick resting on my speaker. Joysticks are some of the oldest forms of controlling videogames, and I bought the speakers/hi-fi about 12 years ago.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but it’s clearly something to do with the fact I am resolutely stuck in the past.

Time to beam these signals wirelessly through the air to put them on a public weblog where hundreds of people will read the words I write before sometimes leaving comments here or on a social network where millions are brought together through mutual acquaintance or interest, before using a digital distribution service to load up a game I haven’t paid a penny for and will never need physical media in order to play on my 42-inch high-definition television, oh, wait a second, I’ve just received a message on my phone with a link to video and the internet in it which I can access all of on the same device.

Oh, I’ve just killed my stuck in the past argument. Damn.

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Red Dwarf X: They’re Really Fucking Old Now

Red Dwarf X. Ten. The tenth series. They’re counting Back To Earth as the ninth. There is a tenth series of Red Dwarf starting at the beginning of October, on everyone’s favourite ‘there’s nothing else on’ channel, Dave.

Had you told me this back in 1999, when the eighth series finished, I would have bit your hand off. In the good way. I disliked the seventh series, but I was a teenager so I still watched it a shit-ton and ended up liking a fair few bits of it.

New Kochanski was shit though.

The eighth series wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t very good either – and the end of it: Rimmer kneeing Death in the balls before running away – had me laughing quite hard. I wanted more.

Ten years later, they made Back To Earth, which felt like… well, it was shit. It wasn’t terrible – there’s a lot worse stuff on BBC Three, for example. But it killed any enthusiasm I had for a new series.

Then, three years after that, there’s a tenth series of Red Dwarf.

I have watched this show all my life. I still consider the first six series funny, which I am aware is an unpopular opinion with many who go “WAAAAH IT LOOKS CRAP WAAAAH IT ISN’T FUNNY WAAAAAH” but they can shut up. It has made an indelible mark on my life and my sense of humour, and I am becoming more like Rimmer with each passing year.

But dear god man, have you seen how old they look? It’s terrifying.

Maybe it’ll be great. Whatever happens, I’ll be watching it. Because for smeg’s sake, it’s Red Dwarf – how could I not?

I meant to write “I thought the series was deader than A-lined flares with pockets in their knees”, but I didn’t. So there you go.

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The ballad of Ethan, the coachboy

If your kid is ever going to end up sitting next to me on a coach, please do this simple test to see whether or not the coach ride will end up with a dead child/me/you/all of the above. Then at least you’ll have the chance to prepare accordingly – it’s only fair.

-Does the child move about constantly, kicking and elbowing me and seeming not to notice they are doing this?

If yes, they are a prick and should not sit next to me.

-Does the child keep on fucking about with things and, all while doing them, stare at me as if to get some kind of reaction?

If yes, they are a prick and should not sit next to me.

-Does the child have an iPad (not first-gen, no idea what gen) they use to play games that involve tilting and moving about a lot (ties in to the first question) and that they have on full volume while playing?

If yes, they are a prick and should not sit next to me. Really, though, if you can afford an iPad, you can afford headphones for the little dickweed.

-Does the child, when you ask it to move for other people, say no, throw a strop then stomp off somewhere else on the coach?

If yes, they are a prick and should not sit next to me. You should also stop trying to bargain with a seven-year-old.

-Does the child keep on fucking making fucking annoying fucking noise all the time for no reason at all?

If yes, they are a prick and should not sit next to me.

Seriously, kids can get tae fuck. If I was a terrible human being I would have slapped that little shit today. Fortunately for Ethan (I know his name because mummy kept on attempting her bargains by addressing him by name “Ethan if you have this we can do this later” “Ethan could you turn it down a little bit? No? Just halfway? No? It’s annoying people on the coach, Ethan, so could you please… okay. No, then.” “Ethan calm down, you’re hitting that gentleman next to you who looks like he’s about to stab the place up and OH GOD HE’S GOT A HAMMER…” etc), I am not a terrible human being.

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