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Thursday, May 13, 2004

Viva las Oakengates.

Pubbed it last night, no big drinking but a nice evening to sit outside enjoying the aroma of curry and fish heads from the Tandouri and the Chippy that flank the Crown's beer garden.

I still haven't received my N64, I want my Zelda man! I got a controller through the post today but nowt to plug it into yet.

I couldn't go to work today as I split my trousers putting my boots on this morning, how shit is that? I couldn't believe it. Yet another example of the cloud of trivial crapness that is following me around at the moment. I went to the cashpoint the other night, to get some readies to pay for my McDonalds, I checked my balance, "not bad", selected another service, asked for twenty quid, walked off. I forgot about it. I didn't notice until I'd ordered at the drive-through and felt in my empty pocket. Twenty-Five pounds for a big mac meal... dickhead! Bloke on bench

I've not done much today, except be pissed off that I'm not at work. Throwing a sickie is all well and good if you are knackered/hungover/job hunting/on a promise or if there's a Test match on the telly, but when you're not really expecting it, it's a bit weird. I spent quarter of an hour watching some bloke sitting on a bench eating a sandwich on a Cardiff webcam, how fucking insane am I getting? Next stop will be an obsession with serial killers, guns and the Beatles' White Album, I can feel it coming.

Stav.

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Monday, May 10, 2004

It's not as good as it used to be

Shit a brick! Have I gone eBay mad or what? My latest round of purchases are an N64 and a couple of assorted games. Retro-bleeding-tastic. I think I bought it firstly out of ease with my new card, and secondly because of the fun I had with a uni mate's console back in the day.

I have to wonder where this nostalgia thing is going. I've no problem with films or music specifically as it's obvious that The Wickerman and The Specials no doubt pisses from a great height down onto Van Helsing and The Streets below. But TV, football, drugs, technology, sex? Eeek, the dreaded pub conversation no-no of children's TV, don't get that one started it never ends. A couple of weeks ago during my birthday lunch-time drinks, the conversation turned accidentally onto the subject. An hour later it was still going as a throwaway BraveStarr reference snowballed into the rheumy-eyed wistfullness of the over 50's and their Muffin the fucking Mule obsessions. End of lunch-hour. What a waste. But aren't we all guilty?

TosserThe BBC cashed in during the identity-confused couple of years before the millennium beamed in, with their weird I Love... series. "Oh wow" they said in unison, "BA Baracas, Spokey Dokeys, Spit the Dog, Matey Bubble Bath, Nottingham Forest, Blockbusters, Ferris Bueller, Gordon the Gopher and Spandau Ballet." Fine, but don't forget the Falklands War, Aids paranoia, Thatcherism, endless frigging Royal Weddings, Hooliganism, Heysel and Hillsborough, Tiananmen Square, Lockerbie, Hungerford, Herald of Free Enterprise, IRA bombings, Timmy Mallett, Teen Wolf and fucking Deelyboppers.

Are we going all going to crawl back into our retro minds, to our personal golden year for the rest of our lives. Like a never-ending episode of Heartbeat. Ughhh!

In the 1950's society tended to look forward towards the future, you can see it in the artwork, technology, the 'B' movies, architecture, and the nihilistic pre-punk Teddy Boys. In the 1960's people looked at the present and lived the much ridiculed Age of Aquarius bollocks. Ever since 1969 our culture has looked backwards, as if the man on the moon was some kind of closure, not a beginning. This fire has been fuelled by TV schedulers, film directors, artists, architects, songwriters, even video game designers with products of varying quality (Withnail and I, Back to the Future, UK Gold, American Graffiti, The Wonder Years, Ocean Colour Scene, TV Cream, and even GTA: Vice City). They know that we all find the past somewhat comforting and reassuring. I asked my mother why she was watching the half-arsed TV retro wallpaper that is Heartbeat last Sunday, she told me it was because it was easy to watch.




In conclusion then,

nostalgia = mass culture comfort blanket.

Still, it was only £17.50 and with Legend of Zelda included.

Stav.

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Saturday, May 01, 2004

It’s my birthday, no-one here day, very strange day, I think of you day. Go outside day, sit in park day, watch the sky day.

After an almost Pardoe-like month of inactivity I'm back. Like SARS but drunker.

This past month has seen me reach my quarter-century, in typical self-destructive style. The day itself was not memorable, as I was at work, it being a Tuesday. I had three Stellas at lunchtime down the Plodge, and set myself up for a right old sesh later that night. I got to the Crown half-hour before anyone else, and utilised that bonus time to my advantage. Here are my recollections:

Beer,The Crown Inn
packet of crisps,
beer,
smoked fag,
ha ha ha,
beer,
football talk,
beer,
laugh at Fella,
beer,
bad joke,
beer,
fag,
plans we'll never ever action,
gin,
beer,
take over the pub stereo,
singing,
beer,
fag,
took piss out of landlord and passing chav-vehicle,
gin,
gap in memory,
gin (necked at pace),
leave,
get into Brileighs,
empty,
Rock night,
beer,
peanuts,
air guitar,
fag,Luverly Antipodean beaut will not be in Oakengates tonight
hair shaking,
The Cult - 'She Sells Sanctuary',
beer,
Bacon falling off chair,
nope can't remember,
outside (somehow),
lying on ground,
fag,
running and jumping,
not sure,
stole Holly Valance reverse charges posters out of every phone box in Oakengates,
home (again somehow),
punched hanging basket,
hurt hand,
FIN?

Good night I think. That wasn't the end of the liver bashing that week. Oh no. Because Friday in typically Merkist fashion he had his birthday on the Friday. This followed a similar pattern as Tuesday, except with less Rock night, theft and lying in the road but more people and cakes!

This last month I've been to see Telford United quite a few times as the end looks more likely. The last match of the season was a great atmosphere, the away fans came up from Farnborough in ponchos, big fuck-off Mexican hats and fake 'taches. The home fans had an emotional pitch invasion after the match, as even if the clubs does survive it's unlikely that any of the current players will be there next season. Indeed the popular manager, who was working for free has since been laid off. Think of Chelsea, then invert it!

I am now the proud owner of a bank account. This may seem like a simple possession, almost a pre-requisite of modern life (is rubbish), but I've not had one since the heady days of 2000. I christianed it by hammering eBay. Oh, and I've also given my details to a friendly Nigerian who emailed me with promise of a cut of oil money stored in a Cape Town bank account. Bingo!

Also in my grubby little hands is a digital camera. So expect some faux-arty pictures of pegs, chavs, trees and my toilet findings.

And if that's not enough, I now have a rather natty haircut. The days of Stavros - Half man half haircut are no more.

I'm currently listening to Super Furry Animals' Out Spaced album, one of my eBay purchases. I'm doing this while shouting at the telly, as after the last three England v West Indies matches were abondanded because of rain, now they finally get playing... and Sky lose the pictures. Amatuers.

That's all for now, I think I'm going to eat some Weetabix.

For now,

Stav.