The aged Wales. Puts on a show...

Its the time of the year where the cockles of your life would be warmend my insidious and whimsical old chesnuts whispered from your doting old dhandi of a grandparent. Something about 'cake' or how 'trees were so much cheaper' and 'food was so much greener'. Having only one grandparent living in Wales, i have been reluctant to talk to them. I cannot even begin to think of the last time i was contacted. This may seem ludicrous and profoundly disturbing, a something year old almost-man talking about his grandthing, but i may remind you that i am slightly drunk, and that my tea has been soiled by a soggy biscuit. thats not a metaphor. thats horrible, horrible truth..... Which brings me neatly onto the subject of tea. The simple east-Indian leaf has always been a feature in my life. It was almost the cabbage of my early age, in the respect that I hated it even more the the actual cabbage of my early age. which was in fact...cabbage. I digress. The fact of the matter is, I have grown a fondness for this repellent, dirty coloured water. It has a taste, if brewed properly for a time (I don't know it. Its a tad hit and miss at the best of times for me) that would allow the full flavour.. to permeate the ancient net, that allows me to become relaxed for an indiscriminate period of time. All im saying is that tea has become such a synonomous part of my life that it stands to rankings with my ridiculous horn-rimmed glasses. Or my equally ridiculous shirts. Or the ridiculous behavior I seem to persist in. So in conclusion, Im fine. If im quiet, its because Im relaxed. If my eyes are closed, Im either asleep or dead. Dont try and wake me, I wont be happy in either case.

Musical interpretation

A new song has permeated through my barriers of taste. I didnt listen to the full song. The intro was suitably forceful in its nature of "lets rock hard and try not to bleed". I can get behind that, I can support something that doesnt want people to die, or that doesnt want people to suffer in an ujust way, or that doesnt increase the franchisement of viking gods. Believe me when i say I have tried to like metal. I have tried to enjoy 3 minutes of concentrated verbal diarrhea at a volume that could make the teacup im holding weep, followed by another 3 minutes of something exactly the same. I like the old classic because they tend to tell a story about a nations disenheartenment, or some sort of love, or an experience with narcotics. They all paint a picture of sorts, and one that isnt painted primarily with the colours balck and red. I dont need that sort of pressure, but I salute those who could listen to the music I have discribed. Anyone who can listen to a howler monkey being tortured is alright by me.

Stand up, please.

Tommorow I begin my new life. Not in any religious way, but i have seen fit to log this milestone down in my oft-neglected blog that has been pining for me ever since I thrust it into creation.

Tommorow, I begin my hopeful debut as a stand up comidian. I have been inspired by both the up-and-comers and the greats of the business, and after what i can only deem as a lapse in my passion for cartooning, I have resolved to try a new medium that i feel i am more suited to.

The dilema lies in the fact that the aformentioned debut is taking place mere days from my "move it or lose it" exams, these being the preliminary deciding exams for wether or not i go to university. Revison lies slightly higher on my scale of things to do, and thus I have reached the threshold of my performance with half formed jokes in my mind, and none on my pad. This scares me. This scares me to my core. Not only this, but the members of my year group are resoundingly know for their scrutiny. Many of the more, shall i say, influencial members of the year are attending this gathering, and may it be know that I have many enemies. Well, lets not call them enemies. lets call them un-friends. These guys, and gals, will take no hesitation in ripping me down on the stage.

BUT, I must persevere. I have many anti-heckler jokes in my repetoir. Perhaps I should be completly anti-heckler.

Looks like its goin' that way anyway.