The Temple of Dysonism

Me And All My Friends Are Poets Of The Deed

My “Oh God No They’re Listening To Enter Shikari” face.

(I don’t think it’s possible to be any more unattractive)

Here we are again, Tumblr. You tell yourself you’re going to go to sleep two hours ago and you don’t do it, and thus you decide in your infinite wisdom that writing a blog post at 2am in the morning is a good thing. But I don’t think I’ve got that one wrong in the years I’ve been writing here, as we generally know, the best inspiration comes at night when it’s too damn late to do anything.

It’s a pleasure to see you again, though, regardless of the time of day. I could do with an empty space to scribble down some notes on nothing in particular. So let’s get cracking!

It’s been a good few weeks recently. I’ve been bridging and rekindling old friendships and have started to be more social once more. For a few months I wasn’t really doing much besides going to work and keeping tight with my colleagues, though I believe this is mostly down to the fact that my student friends (or I suppose I should call them ex-students - congratulations to everyone on completing their degrees!) were knuckling down and tackling the toughest part of Uni, the third year. Man, if I struggled with the opening months of University I can only imagine the sort of breakdown I’d have had if I stuck it out. Not for me. No siree.

Right now I have more important things to be worrying about. I have three days left working with my colleagues and good friends at the GAME store I work at in Camberley before I start a two week trial at the Guildford branch as a Senior Sales. There’s a very small pay increase and it’s a 40 hour contract rather than a 20 so ultimately I’ll be moving up the ladder in that regard. I just wish I could’ve taken the job in my current store, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices in order to progress. I’m sure I’ll keep in touch with the guys at my current store through social networking, gaming, pub visits and most likely live music gigs.

Saturday just gone, me and Lucy went up to Camden to see Talking Endlessly, among others, play at the Barfly. Annoyingly we only got there in time for the last song in their set due to public transport issues (and people who wanted to take out £600 at a hole in the wall and use multiple cards, holding up a queue of 7 people behind her, and not getting it when it denied her her cash); but we got there nonetheless. The final song was one I’d heard before and enjoyed hearing live, but then again I can say the same for most live music. Talking Endlessly are certainly worth giving a listen - I’ll put a song of theirs on my blog soon.

The band that followed looked to be a disaster as they carried a huge keyboard and accordian on stage with them but were aurally very pleasing to listen to. Combining the musical nuances of bands such as TV On The Radio, Arcade Fire and The National sounds like… well, actually, reading that back it sounds like it’d be brilliant. And to be frank they did sound different, quirky, original, but not for the wrong reasons. If I could remember the band name I’d give them a shout out but it escapes me. Sorry, pretty-good-band-that-played-in-the-Barfly-last-Saturday!

I’d put something down about the last band but I’d be wasting everyone’s time and electricity. Let me just say they may well have been the worst band I’ve ever witnessed live (and I’ve seen Guns ‘n’ Roses Axl Rose’s Ego Stroking Stage Show). The singer comes on stage and just starts sort of.. bizarrely shrieking and pulsating and singing whilst wearing a blazer and flicking the microphone with his hand and strumming an acoustic guitar but oh, wait, plugged in to an amp because he’s too damn cool for school. Like a camp hipster. Do they exist? If they didn’t before they certainly do now. We left shortly after the first song finished, deciding we couldn’t take much more punishment.

Unfortunately we took plenty more punishment in the form of a shed load of alcohol. Going from the ciders in the bar to several vodka and orange’s in the fun bus home, and ending up foolishly putting away a double shot of Lemoncello (never had it before - was always curious. Wish I’d left it that way) and a double Tequila (new personal rule - NEVER Tequila.) does not equate to a very pleasant next day, especially when you have to catch a train from Woking back to Aldershot with a restricted Sunday service. And boy oh boy was the hangover awful, truly punishing me for my sins the previous night. It wasn’t content with ruining my morning, it lasted with me the whole damn day, causing me to sweat like mad and feel like I wanted to die (melodrama - though I wasn’t far off). But would I do it again? …Hell yeah!

Those are the moments we live for. It’s times like that that make the daily grind worth it. That payslip we get every couple of weeks with a little number on it telling us how much our time is worth should ultimately be put to use in the pursuit of good times. I am a firm believer in this. Live for the moments you get to spend your time and freedom, rather than worrying about the times you don’t.

Anyway, philosophical moment over. This blog has been brought to you in classic Speller style; I’ll come up with the urge to write and not know what to write about and end up on a completely bizarre tangent. Documenting my escapades wasn’t what I had planned when I started writing, nothing was. It’s just the way my mind seems to work, and the way I write. And it seems to have been that way since I started this patch of the internet back in late ‘08. Some things never change.

Oh, and because I like to share amazing things with you guys, check out my newest addition to my desk.

It’s Mr. Pilgrim! I fear I may have begun a figurine collection..