pictures of people keep you company. not just pictures, voices too. the person doesn't need to be there, they don't need to know who you are, a face can keep you sane.

I browse magazines a lot. let us say "compensatory" magazine. Magazines to compensate for that which i lack in my life. that is all the definition i shall give on that object. I browse them mostly for the pictures, but there are words too. the subject of the words generally don't stretch much further than the subject of the pictures, one wonders why they're there at all.

and so i shall tell you why.

The pictures bring you closer to a person. you see them looking at you, smiling at you, focusing on you. The point of these magazines is not show you the people in the the pictures, but to make you feel like the people in the pictures are there for you and you alone. the feelings they coax would happen anyway, whether or not it had the je ne sais quoi that makes looking at them feel like a social action. The special something, however, is what sells.

not to me though, i don't buy them. i've nowhere to hide them and you can it for free on the internet anyway.

The words add a lot. The words remind you of the person making the looks. When you see the picture, you think "that's a nice picture" but when there's a soundbyte in bold font placed right next to it, telling you the kind of things they say, it makes you feel like they're saying it to you.

What they discuss is decidedly irrelevant. They discuss what it's like having their picture taken, how much they love their work, what recent activity they've had with regards to the subject of the pictures.

The people who look at these pictures, people like me, they haven't forgotten what the subject looks like. They could most certainly concieve a thought in lieu of a picture, all on their own without any outside help. But we need the pictures. More than we need the words. We need to feel there is a person with us, a person who will keep us company, a person who will not just keep us company, but have ideas, and thoughts, and feelings. When one has to construct those independantly, they do not see another person, they see only themselves.

and that is true lonliness.




Freud said that all human emotion stems from sex. i disagree. i believe it stems from other people, from trying to know them and understand them. in a world where everything is relative, from time and space to good and evil, we need standards by which to place ourselves.

the world is at present gripped by greed and uncertainty. For fear of losing business prices are plumetting, trying to keep people buying. Global economies are scrambling to stay out the red, people are being forced onto the street. Wars are being fought and won and lost, started and ceased. The Haves are in a state of panic.

Culturally this is being ignored. To focus on the real world terrifies us. People don't wish to reminded of war and unemployment. people want to be afraid of ghostly boogeymen living under the stairs, aliens invading, masked villains trying to take over the world, not they'll lose their son in battle, or lose their house to a dodgy clause, or lose their husband to a girl half thier age.

Reality terrifies us like no other force in the world. more specifically the reality of our own lives. The only way to retain sanity is to ignore the negative, to accept the risks, and hope for best against all odds.

But to be someone else, that is what we want. a life with a door.

Culturally, we are solely focused on escapism. We seek heroes not in the man fighting to stave off depression as he sleeps under a quilt by a shop front with nothing but a six-pack of Scrupy Jack to keep him warm, we seek it in the man who can change the world with his mighty suit of armour, and bring an end to wars, and defeat his enemies, and right all the wrongs.

but better than that. Why look at the man who saves the day with money when you can look at the man

the first is a story. i was in the GP the other day and the radio was playing The Promise by Girls Aloud, and the little kid sitting next me started singing along. This made me giggle, as i love the fact that everyone loves pop music before they get in their head the elitist notion that they're not supposed to. but the kid's dad didn't seem to like this, so he started trying to distract the kid, to get him to stop singing along. but what was really great was that the next song they played was Breakeven by The Script, and the kid's dad started going "who's that? isn't that the script? don't ya like the script? the script are great! ya like the script, don't ya?" and i could just see it flashing in his eyes "please, please, please don't be gay. please, please, please don't be gay." oh dear.

second is about offensively physical christmas presents. I have no idea what to get most of ye this year, i have no idea which of ye expect presents, or don't expect them, or whatever, but i've thought up a cunning plan to deal the plan. a cunning plan from a "cunning linguist".

oral sex. it's foolproof. all you ladies out there going' "where's my freaking present?" well it's oral sex. if you can find the time and the space and the privacy and the lack of morals, i'm all yours. for dudes... well the offer isn't quite as open to you. instead you're free to use me as threesome fodder. in fact that option's open to the ladies too (especially if there's two of you. hell, i'll give you a present like that any day of the year).

i think this is a fantastic idea. this is pretty much the one present you can give someone, anyone, and know for certain they'll go "that was exact;y what i wanted! how did you know?"

of course a present like this will need some amount of give and take, easing me into the reality of the situation and so forth. what kind of give and take, you ask? well let me answer your question with another question.

what did the tree say to the wind?

the answer is "blow me."

the sun is up ,
the bell has rung,
the books are out,
the day's begun.
but where am i?
but down the street
fast on my feet
and late again
so still i run.
my name is called
but where am i?
i'm coming boys,
i'm coming.

i'm far behind
but soon i'll be
there in the room
with books to read
full with contemporaries
each page full
of those who wrote
and those who rose
and those we know
and them all calling out to me
and one day i may arrive
and be on that page by their side
but where am i?
I'm coming boys,
i'm coming.

down through the ground
they're all the same
they lived, they died,
they rot away.
and there, the stones that bear their names.
see those who fly,
and those who toil,
and those with minds above us all
and those who justly ruled their day
their names on stones will wear away.
i try and try
but still through soil
i hear them cry to me
i hear them all
as i run by.
but where am i?
I'm coming boys,
i'm coming.