Diary of an up and coming sociopath

As I write this, a single droplet of blood is forming again on my knuckle. No, I didn’t manifest stigmata again, nor did I fall victim to some horrible crime. Insstead I managed to gouge open my own finger trying to unlock a door. Having confessed that can we please forget aout it and move on?

Today I finished reading Diary. A satisfying read, to be sure. An engaging mystery with a hint of the unexplainable thrown in for good measure; I enjoyed it a lot. Probably my second or third favourite Palahniuk book. I’m glad I neglected to read the blurb until I was most of the way through because it spoiled the plot almost up until where I was! Questions answered before I knew they could be asked. Fuckers.

After a bizarrely early start (I woke up at 11! How!?) we went for Lunch at connotationally named local pub “The Plasterer’s”. I say Lunch, but it was clearly early enough in our respective days for Tom, Ian and I to be eating Breakfast. So today’s breakfast was Roast Lamb Dinner. A little known fact about me is that I do like Lamb, just not enough to ever want to eat it, though in this case it was the only choice, besides not having a Roast, and for god’s sake, on a Sunday, how could I not? So Lamb it was. Rachel had Nachos, which everyone seemed to enjoy, and her friend Hinny, who I’ve met before but never really spoken to until today, had Egg and Chips, meaning a few people homed in on her meal and partook as well - as Ian predicted would happen should anyone get chips. Dan was also there, I didn’t really speak to him much as we were on opposite ends of the same table, but I’ll throw a mention in for completeness’ sake. So no-one feels left out.

The meal was quite good, perhaps a little expensive but I ate all that I would. It was a little worrying when they closed the blinds and unveiled the giant projection screen to play the football on but we left before things got loud, and before people got irritated by our talking during said game, so upset was avoided. At one point everyone compared stalkers, though I’ve never had one so I was kind of left out of that conversation. I considered that maybe I was once a stalker, but that really just involved turning up to places where I knew I would meet Nikki rather than, say, crouching the the bushes with a telephoto lens.

Tomrrow Nikki’s doing her last exam, so I’m taking her, by request, to McDonalds. I will be popping into the Comic Shop and then maybe doing revision. Rachel’s birthday is on Tuesday and we’re all invited out to her party-style gathering. This means if I want to go revision will have to occur at some point that’s not immediately before the exam. And this is technically just the “vision” part of revision, where I actually learn the course, rather than remind myself of it.

That’s a pretty comprehensive review of the day actually. I haven’t done a lot else. Besides the finger gouging, I mean. Nothing like little pinching pains every time I hit a key with that finger. Ah well, I’ll simply use my amazing healing powers that the BUPA adverts have taught me I posess.

Oh, to finish off, I’ll just point out I linked George’s blog in the right there. I’d have done it earlier had I known about it, but now I do and it’s there, so if you want to see, for instance, what his take on the terrible, terrible networking exam was, you now can. My favourite part comes from his comments about “Bruce Almighty” which you may remember I saw a few months ago. Says George: “Unfortunately it ended with a moral about humans and how we are the miracle makers, this kinda ruined the film for me. I like a good sad ending, does the soul good. Afterwards it made me wish I had super powers.” I think he captured the essence of the film there. George also has on his site a blog for his girlfriend, Karis, who you may remember from occasional cameo mentions in this here journal, though she’s only done one entry. It had Nikki pretty entertained though. Again, an excerpt: “The pie was looked upon in disappointment. The way your parents would look at you if you had accidently killed your own grandmother.”

So, that’s me done. This was supposed to be a short entry. Unfortunately my policy of “why use one word when you could use ten?” has prevailed again. I keep writing final paragraphs and then expanding them out into huge diatribes. I think this is the fourth paragraph this entry that originally started with me intending to make it the last. This one actually is though.

Or is it!? (Obligatory shock ending)

Okay, I admit a little later than I may first have implied but here is my “post-Maths exam pondering” entry. This exam was a lot easier than the first one, but a little harder than I had anticipated. Nevertheless, an A is not impossible, I’m just slightly less confident about one now. Hmm, look at me. A few dodgy exams and I start to question everything. HOW DO I KNOW YOU EVEN EXIST?!

The seats in this exam were pretty comfy for a change. Notable because I didn’t feel like I’d been heavily beaten after 2 hours of sitting. Unfortunately, there was a korean guy behind me who, rather than coughing, made lots of little gasps EVERY FIVE FUCKING SECONDS. At least, I hope to god he was supressing coughs because the alternative is pretty disgusting, especially in an exam situation. I’m going to blame any failure on him, because he got really distracting after a while. Distracting in a psychopathic rage way.

Still, that’s all that done with. One more exam to go and then I can shrivel up and hibernate for the winter. I presently make plans to return to Leam on the 7th of December, though I can’t really be sure this far from the time.

Incidentally, I know it was Saturday, but all this networking and stuff has made it seem like a Monday. This means that today feels kind of like Tuesday, except not much. I believe there are plans to go out for a meal with Dan and Rach tomorrow so maybe that’ll reset the old internal calendar. Otherwise it’s confusion and obscurity for me.

Well, that’s Computer Networks over and done with. I started the morning by falling out of bed, which is never a good thing to do, and more so on Exam days. I slipped on a magazine as I jumped up to switch off the alarm, was the problem, and it sent me ass-backward onto a box of comics, which luckily broke my fall. I lay in a somewhat dazed state until Ian hammered on the door some time around 7:50, as instructed, at which point I got dressed and we went to Uni.

Wheatley was looking depressing as hell. It was grey and cold and raining, and we went to the canteen to do some last minute revision and settle the bile with snacks. Then the exam.

I won’t say it’s the worst exam I’ve ever done, though that would be quite accurate. I finished in 45 minutes when the thing is 2 hours long, which was one of my first indicators that something was grossly amiss. I like to think I pioneered a series of new networking ideas that will one day go to good use. That is, rather than admit I made up most of my answers on the spot from half-remembered knowledge. Some re-reading later I decided my exam was indeed, done, waited until the hour had passed, and then attempted to leave. At first I was told that this was not allowed, because there was “A situation” but 5 minutes later the woman returned and said that yes, I could leave. Dunno what the situation was but it wasn’t of much consequence els eI’d have something to actually say about it, rather than this non-anecdote.

After I left the horrible room, I went to sit in the canteen and await my peers. A small ponderance on the futility of doing the exam after the farce that was our coursework occupied my mind, and I decided that this was probably my first module fail. Not that I’m too botehred, I can afford to fail this module, and I’d rather it was one that was actually hard rather than one I just didn’t do the work for. Anyway. George and Tom eventually joined me, followed shortly by Ian. We discussed our answers, decided we were screwed, and then took time out to restructure next term’s modules in light of the networking buggeration. I’ll finalise those changes on results day anyhow.

Next I have to revise some Graph Theory. I’ve got the exam in just over an hour so a little revision could go a long way. After reading the example questions I’m a little less confident about the A, but it’s going to be a good exam. I’ll no doubt be back with an update after the exam is finished.

I can’t believe this is how I’m spending my Saturday. Bleh. I find it slightly humourous to note that for the first time in recent memory, if not ever, I did 3 updates yesterday, on the one day I was supposed to be spending revising. That if nothing else was probably an indicator of how well this morning was about to go :-)

Still, Maths has the power to absolve my sins.

* Title by Nikki

Due to an error in my brain, the last entry seemed to imply that yesterday was “Buy Nothing Day”, when it is, in fact, today. This is due to me trying to write an entry while tired and confused. I have just specifically unobserved “Buy Nothing Day” and I hope you all will too.

In light of the recent creation of this day, I’m planning to start up my own day. I’d like to declare November the 29th, 2003 the very first “Throw yourself off a Bridge Day.” Spread the word, friends. Hopefully people who care to observe these arbitrarily made days will observe this too. It’s not that I specifically have a problem with “Buy Nothing Day” (Well, I do in a way, but that’s no part of what I’m about to say) it’s that people seem to be under the impression that a grand gesture in this manner will accomplish anything beyond raising the tiniest bit of awareness for some cause. If you want to make a stand again globalisation or capitalism of whatever the hell Buy Nothing Day is trying to do, then it’s going to take more than a few people not buying things. If you got all the people not buying stuff and had them burn their money, that’d be more like it.

This is kind of similar to why I think the whole “Join Me” movement is kind of motivated by middle-class guilt more than genuine compassion or selflessness, it’s all so dogmatic. If you want to make a difference to people, why make it on a certain day, why make it a specific act of kindness? Why not simply change yourself instead of waiting to be told how to do it? On the other hand, if you’re instructed and you fulfill that instruction you can feel secure that you’ve done your bit by completing the most trite of goals. Well done, pat yourself on the back, mission accomplished. Except it isn’t. And it never will be, not if you’re actually after some kind of proper social change instead of mere organised wackiness.

Which brings me back to Buy Nothing Day. Organised wackiness, and nothing more.

I began reading “Diary” last night, and it’s actually really good. I was beginning to wonder if Chuck Palahniuk was really that great, I mean, Fight Club was an okay book eclipsed by the film, Lullaby was okay, Choke, Survivor and Invisible Monsters were all good but by no means the best books I’ve read, the jury was still out in a way. Diary, however, has confirmed it. I read a couple of pages and after a brief sense of disorientation with the story things crystalised and I’m totally in on the premise now. It’s a really light read after the previous chunk of books I’ve been hacking through though. Almost like MTV-generation literature, all short sentences and limited vocabulary.

Today I followed Nikki into town in search of the Matrix graphic novel. Amazon are disappointingly tardy with the dispatchment of it despite my pre-ordering so I cancelled it and by god, I’m going to find a copy on the shelves. Nikki was going in to town with plans of having Coffee with Rachel, and when we got to Starbucks I was invited to hang around too. I’m not a coffee person, but Starbucks was warm and comforting, the chance for impromptu studenty coffee-shop conversation just screamed out for me to partake, and of course, the chance to find out what kind of things the girls really talk about on their frequent clandestine coffee-house meetings. We ended up talking abour urination. At least, they did, I was unable to contribute, for as a male my urinary practices are both trouble-free and uninteresting, but between that and Love Actually, I still like to think I made the right choice to hang around. Rachel bestowed upon me a serviette from Oriel, branded with the logo, which I now have placed with my St. John’s placemat. She did try to appropriate me a plate but unfortunately for the James Hunt Exclusive Collection clearer minds prevailed. The fight for the freedom of dinnerware continues, though. In Starbucks, Nikki got me some more coffee beans for the pot, which now contains almost 25 beans. We have some way to go, I admit.

So, what else does my day consist of, besides females showering me with gifts? Well, not a lot. A sense of persecution did descend upon me today, because Ian, Tom, Nikki and Rachel have all had their hairs cut and/or restyled. I remain hirsutely static, such as long hair is. I believe, for once (*cough*) I’ll go against the trend and not be peer-pressured into needless restyling. I mean, what could I do? Starch it up into a mohawk, perhaps? There’s just no practical change I want to make.

Nikki bought 3CR tickets for us all today, because I’m still chipping away at a hefty credit card bill. Today was, of course, Buy Nothing Day, a holiday so upsetting to my personal ethics that I specifically unobserved it and bought stuff. I’m glad to see that most of you didn’t hear of and thus didn’t observe this evil and most pointless day. Go buy stuff. SPEND YOUR HARD EARNED MONIES! No sass off you this time, please Mike. Consider it a religious difference. I think the biggest problem with “Buy Nothing Day” is that it somehow assumes that every day we go and buy something. This is not usually the case for me, I dunno about anyone else but as a poor and impverised student I spend most of my time attempting to avoid buying things…

Which reminds me, christmas is coming, time to pick out the DVDs I want family buying me. Capitalism ex caerimonia, if you’ll excuse the hastily cobbled together pseudolatin. There’s this Hulk Box Set in Sanity. I know I shouldn’t want it, but god damn…it has some really cool art prints from the comic and an extra disc. I admit I was kind of sucked in by the term “Limited Edition” but having actually SEEN what you get I couldn’t care less, it’s just classic comic art and it’s fucking cool, limited edition or not. And since I won’t be the one paying, I figure, what the hell, maybe I’ll ask for it. Maybe I’ll get something better instead though, I mean, an entire series of Futurama costs about the same…

Well,anyway, enough rampant greed. I guess I should go to bed in preparation for revision tomorrow. Actual revision this time, I mean.

This entry makes the sound of not revising. Instead, I shall indulge in a free flow of doom-sayings and predictions relating to the immediate future of exams. Nostradamus might’ve had the benefit of insane visions of the future but I have the benefit of self-awareness and intution. Not to mention the chance for revisionism when the actual results come in.

Today was Graph Theory Revision Thursday, as I retroactivly have named it, except that I neither revised nor did graph theory. In fact as I write this, it’s not even Thursday. This is indicative of the state of my exam revision each term.

However.

Tomorrow I have no choice but to revise, and I shall do so with renewed vigour, for Computer Networks is, to put things delicately, going to be a complete fucking car crash of unmatched scale. I plan to fail this module in a spectacular fashion. Manchester encoding, TCP/IP, network frames and packets and sliding windows, it’s all steaming ahead towards a seriously huge case of “arrgh-what-the-fuck-is-going-on” the likes of which are unseen since I did GCSE Chemistry. Assuming the coursework achieved a passing grade, all roads lead to the C.

Now, Graph Theory. Good old Graph Theory. The only further maths I’ve nailed since day one. The only maths I’ve seen good use for since arithmatic (okay, and trigonometry.) The only exam that I can guarantee myself an A in for the entire stage 2 course. I think. It’s paradoxical to think I can get an A and yet do little to no revision. I mean, I’m capable, but can I really be arsed? Do I not owe it to myself to at least TRY? Well, maybe. Ambivalence comes at a cost and I think I just realised it. I don’t care when I do bad, but neither do I care enough to do well. Luckily, I don’t care :-) When Saturday comes I believe I’ll have it in me to get the A grade I so richly deserve want need.

So, that leaves the horrid middle child. Human Computer Interfaces. I won’t need to look at that until HCI Revision Tuesday next week. I’ll be honest - I attended half of one lecture, but it was with reason. I forget the reason. I think it was that we had Network lectures beforehand and thus didn’t care enough to stick around for lectures in the afternoon as well. However, I’m not too worried, for the course looks easy. It’s filled with jargon to try and obscure the degree of ease with which it’s possible to pass this module but as a learned man I can glide through such terms as a hot knife glides through the soft yielding flesh of the young, and create an answer filled with counter-jargon to drag myself from the realms of confusion. Perhaps a B, optimistic B+? There was a time I’d have predicted an A, but the passage of time has beaten from me the optimism of olde.

And thus my predictions are set in stone, for to await their unearthing on the day of results judgement, when the sky shall turn as black as night and the seas shall boil like a kettle filled with molton rock. And then if these are right, I’ll take pleasure in informing you all that “I told you so.”

It occurs to me that I’ve got 2 sets of results since starting this blog, yet I don’t remember writing about any of them. I think a personal visit to the archives is in order.

Yesterday was a bit of a non-event. So one more point in the “Doing nothing” column! Today I finished War of the Worlds, and that means soon I can start “Diary”. WotW lulled a bit in the middle but was really good at the start and end.

Most of Tuesday’s news can be compressed into one sentence: 3CR gig in London - February the 6th. Guess where I’m going to be that night? It’s being filmed for a DVD AND they’ve requested fan input on the setlist (I’ve already suggested and got some decent support for God Shaped Hole.) I’m attempting to drag along as many people as possible, too. Nikki and Tom are coming, Sam and Josh, Si says he will if he can. I’m sure I can find more willing parties. It’s going to be great. I’ve not visited the Islington Academy before - apparantly, it was a failing venue that carling bought up, so I dunno, but even if the venue sucks, the gig can’t be bad. 3CR are like, the best live band I’ve seen.

Admittedly, more did happen on Tuesday. The internet was spectacularly fucked like never before so when we were unable to find a board game, Tom and I started making our own. We decided to make Monopoly, then decided to make it into a variant whereby you take on the role of America and crush the countries of the world. Burkina Faso took the place of “Old Kent Road” and “Iraq” replaced “Mayfair”. I think we should market it.

Today we did little but go to Nandos. Always a pleasure, and in fact I’m wondering if that’s how I described it last time I went. It was fucking cold out though, we are truly entering the winter season, which is great, because now I don’t have to go outdoors anymore. On the way back we went to Tescos, and Nikki bouht some dessert thing which came with a free clay pot or something. I’ve now placed within said pot my coffee beans. I invite you all, next time you go to Starbucks or Whittards, to steal me some beans to help fill the pot. It’s not for any particular reason, I just think you should help in order to increase the levity content of your days.

Tomorrow I’m actually going to have to do some revision. My exam timetable is as follows:

M08038 The Human Computer Interface (29-Sep-2003 - 05-Dec-2003)
Exam on 03-Dec-2003 at 14.00 until 16.00 in WHEATLEY EL19
M08021 Computer Networks (29-Sep-2003 - 05-Dec-2003)
Exam on 29-Nov-2003 at 9.30 until 11.30 in WHEATLEY EL19
M08626 Graph Theory (29-Sep-2003 - 05-Dec-2003)
Exam on 29-Nov-2003 at 14.00 until 16.00 in MAIN HALL

Pretty suckful. Computer Networks is going to be an insane exam. That’s what I’ll be spending Friday “revising”. But after that, there’s little further to go until christmas and more turkey than one human can possibly consume…

I have returned from London. In fact, I’ve been back over an hour now but I’ll rewind a bit for clarity’s sake and do this in chronological order.

So, I spent the day doing very little. That’s what I do during revision week. At Half 3 Tom and I went to catch the Oxford Tube, which we did, and henceforth we travelled to London. Arrival at Marble Arch occurred at pretty much the expected time, and in order to save money and to prevent further delay, we walked up Oxford Street.

The problem here was that Oxford Street turned out to be pretty fucking long, and indeed, filled with Humans. At one point we considered buying a machete to hack our way through the rapidly advancing crowd. We’re not sure what it is, but for some reason where everyone else just piledrived ahead we had to weave in and out, dodging people and generally getting in the way. We assume that when you’re from London you have some kind of repellant aura that means you force other people to walk around you. We tried not moving and just ended up walking in to a lot of people.

Nevertheless, we did save both time and money, if not energy. I forget the name of the Wetherspoons we convened in, but it claims to be London’s largest freehouse. The same place Dan, Rachel, Nikki and I were in last time I was in the godforsaken city of London. I was just standing around texting Josh, when he too arrived, but minutes after us. He now sports a smallish beard which makes him seem not unlike Mirror-Universe Josh. I couldn’t tell if he was evil. We all had a drink but no tables became free - for London’s largest freehouse, it seems remarkably under-tabled. I abandoned plans for proper food, and we instead went to McDonalds.

Following the filthy fast-food, we went to the Astoria. In the 3 seconds it took to walk from the end of the barrier to the door of the place, I somehow managed to get given about 9 leaflets. They were handing them out faster than I could receive them! None of them seemed useful though, so I chucked them all in a large box. We then stood around for about an hour waiting for the damn gig to start.

But start it did, and let me say, TMV are a very diffierent gig experience to what I’m used to. For a start, Cicatriz, a song that’s 12 minutes long on the album was stretched to almost 40. They played for just over an hour an a half, and fit in 6 songs - the album is only an hour long and contains 10, such is the extent of their jamming and improv. Televators was excellent live, especially considering I don’t like it on the album really. In the end, I was pleased to have seen them play though, while I had the chance. I expect I’ll see them again should the chance arrive.

Josh and I waited around for Tom after the gig, having clawed our way out of the crowd, and got offered drugs twice by the same guy, who reminded me of Lenny Henry’s homeless rastafarian from “Lenny Henry in Pieces”. After Tom arrived, we got the Central line to Oxford Street, where Josh parted ways with us, with a leaving salute. I like to think he was being shipped off to the front line, if only because it’s an enduring image, leaving your friend to his doom. Tom and I navigated the maze-like underground station and got back to Victoria, then on the Oxford Tube again for some return-journey fun. We sat at the front because the view is much more interesting there, or at least might’ve been if we didn’t drive back through heavy fog that made it impossible to see more than 20 metres ahead.

Oxford was as we left it - cold and damp. I came back home, talked with Nikki for a bit then she went to sleep and I gave Paul a hand with his website validation. Always a pleasure to turn someone to the light-side of valid source code. If you’re reading this and your site isn’t W3C valid, you really have to start asking yourself some serious questions about your own attitude towards life, don’t you?

It’s Day 2 of my not doing anything spree. Things are going well, I didn’t leave the house at all today. Despite the falling snack supplies - I’ve consumed the last cans of Vimto and Coke, and I’ve just eaten my last piece of chocolate - morale remains high. Tomorrow will see me go to the long-awaited Mars Volta gig in my favourite city, London.

The plan revolves entirely around some hastily configured schedules, but nevertheless I remain confident all will work out in the end. At 1530 Tom and I leave, in preparation to meet Josh in the Wetherspoons near the Astoria at 1730. Some food to follow and from there, a few short steps to the Astoria in time For TMV’s 1900 opening time. I view the gig with some trepidation, apparantly they’re heavily improvisational, and, unlike Comedy, music doesn’t always work best that way. However, I’m open to new things and I’m sure it’ll be worth it. Let’s face it, I could be robbed at knifepoint and it won’t be worse than the last few mondays have been.

The planned pub quiz thing never happenned. I decided I’d rather not visit the pub twice in two days, and that I wanted to stay in. I was all set to break the news to the no doubt devastated parties when it turned out that no-one else really cared anyway. The cleansing rain had washed away their aspirations of pub-based fivolity. Nikki did eventually brave the rain and bought a paper, and I read an article about a load of Dali works that his god-daughter or someone has just unveiled. Some are really cool, there’s one that’s a really rough sketch version of Les Elephants which I thought was great. I’m not sure who originally said it, but it always rings true: I may not know art, but I know what I like. I bet they’re dead now, though.

That about wraps up my day really. I’m halfway through war of the worlds which isn’t a bad book, but I’m finding it hard to press on with for some reason, I lost a bit of steam. I’m planning to get it done in the next few days and, despite my frequent threats to read 20,000 Leagues, I’m going to read “Diary”, Chuck Palahniuk’s new book. I feel like reading something a bit more modern before heading back to the dense prose of two centuries thence. I recently rediscovered a ?1 book voucher in my copy of Diary, actually, so at some point soon I’ll be making flight to spend that on more discount classics. Never did find Dr. Moreau or Treasure Island, the former I’m unsure whether it’s in the line, and the latter never seems to be in stock. I’m not sure I could stomach more HG Wells, actually, I’ve still got The Time Machine to read.

My, aren’t I learned. All them books. I guess I’ll stick in a link here to Samorost, at least I guess that’s what it’s called. This is my latest flash obsession, it’s a little adventure game, nothing too challenging but it’s quite artful as well. I’m impressed by it. I was only a little surprised to find out it was produced, apparantly, by a group of Eastern Europeans, and suddenly as the phrase “Hoch Hech” floated through my brain, the music, animation and aesthetic all became understandable. Enjoy.

Today was good. I accomblished a really huge chunk of post-coursework laziness, much more so than I’ve had the chance to recently. Also got some turkey eaten, some Vimto drunk, and completed that most important of activities - sorting comics. It’s a curious business, sorting comics. I recently started grouping them by storyline, but I tend to revolutionise my comics filing system as often as I bought the comics. For a while I kept a database of all my comics and updated it every month but I fell behind and it’s now years out of date. Hmm, an anecdote with no point. Haven’t had many of those recently.

Later on in the day Rachel came over to watch some documentary thing about Dylan Thomas, because we have a TV, albeit one with a shit reception, where she has none. It seems Dylan Thomas was a mild-mannered poet who died because people expected the wrong thing of him, or something. I can’t say I’m especially interested in the lives of authors and writers, except perhaps to pu the work into some social and emotional context, but this was engaging enough.

Afterwards, we went to the Pub. I had reservations, I admit. I don’t really like going to pubs for a great many reasons that, in an abbreviated fashion consist of me not drinking alcohol and finding pubs really really pointless venues for any kind of socialising. Oh sod it, I can feel a rant brewing. Okay, firstly, drinking alcohol turns normal people into idiots, and idiots into insufferable cunts. I don’t like a great many people at the best of times but alcohol is the one thing that turns the people I do like into people I don’t. I’m not saying it wouldn’t happen to me too, I just can’t fathom why people would want such changes to occur. Are they so insecure with their own personality and life that they need alcohol to sufficiently dull their perceptions that they can have fun? It’s expensive, it, by all accounts, tastes vile at least the first few times, so why, just why continue? Social programming perhaps? Some backward desire to appear adult by emulating the behaviour of said age-group? Whatever the forces behind the development of these motivations, they’re things I’ve apparantly missed out on entirely.

Secondly, pubs themselves are really, really horrible places. Pubs reek of filth in the social and hygenic sense. “What better place,” people apparantly think, “to hold a conversation, than this offensively noisy, bad smelling, smoke-filled hole?” I admit, if you’re the kind of person who likes to go to pubs and meet random humans, okay, it’s a perfectly adequate venue. I personally don’t wish to meet the kind of people who hang around in pubs. There’s nothing you can do there that you can’t do at home in more comfort and by spending less money. I’m undoubtedly sounding superior and self-important but I can’t help wonder what the attraction is that I’m missing.

Okay, I could talk for days about that, it’s one of my primary hates in life. Instead I’ll relate more direct events - namely, the first visit. Where was I? Ah, yes. I was admitting I had reservations about going to a pub the Saturday we had won some sporting event, expecting as I was much drunken skinheads barging about the places grappling for space like flies on rotting meat. A not altogether unqualified expectation, I shall add. I’ll try not to radiate yet more contempt, but they were everywhere. Singing. Dear god, drunken pub singing, is there any more detestable activity? Child rape just about edges it out but it’s a close call in my view. As if it wasn’t bad enough that they were singing, they were singing the first two fucking lines of “Swing low, sweet chariot” repeatedly. THE SONG DOES HAVE OTHER LINES. Gah.

Anyway, the first pub we went to was the Wheatsheaf. It was packed with people which was unfortunate, because I’m sure had bit been a little quieter it would’ve been a nice place to sit. As it was, we were forced to stand, getting knocked every few seconds by people walking past and I eventually found myself a corner in which to slink until we left for a less abundantly populated place.

While walking between pubs, Tom struck up a conversation with whichever joinee weirdo had accompanied us after meeting Rachel and Nikki at Danny Wallace’s talk the other week. I forget his name but he seemed about as inoffensive as these types get. I couldn’t help laugh as Tom received his explanation of the joinee movement and then replied “Oh, yeah, I used to be in a cult too where they used to cut slits on their feet and wounds into their hands. It was called the Catholic church.” The whole conversation was utterly scathing and dripping with sarcasm from Tom’s end, and the joinee guy seemed to get more and more anxious about being in it as time progressed. After we got off Cornmarket street, we were walking down towards the cinema when we passed a woman sitting on a step looking strangely at the floor. I was just thinking to myself “Hmm, what was she looking at?” when the most revolting and simultaneously comedic noise of vomit hitting pavement rang out across the street. It was pure comedy, just like a cartoon of some kind - as soon as we walked out of shot, the sound effect went off. I laughed so hard, it was probably the high point of the evening, for me.

I forget the name of this next pub we ended up at, but it was way too townie for me. I don’t like referring to “townies” like I’m some kind of better version of person but this was clearly designed for the shirts & shoes going-out crowd; people for whom this kind of socialising is an art. Tom and I shared a brief discussion about how being allowed in to such a venue meant we were moving up in the world. Ian again showed us his gambling skills but was stopped by Rachel, at first. Later he and I went to play video-based “Spot the Difference” and when he won £2 we waited until backs were turned and ran off to put it back into the gamblers. Rachel tried to stop him but he won £10, so he’s overall up on the night, even factoring in drinks.

Eventually they kicked us out because the place closed, which was really unusual because the pubs I reluctantly attend back home let you stay until all hours on account of having a late license. Apparantly Michael Ball was at the Apollo, lots of old women were hanging around groupie-style and waving at his tour bus as it left. It was hard not to feel pity for them, but I suppose while they’re happy it’s better than the alternative. Er, the alternative being their own patch of land in the local cemetary.

That’s about it for the evening. Rachel showed us around Oriel and we got the bus back, then spent some time locked in philosophical discussion. It was primarily based around the idea of consciousness and the existance of the same. The general consensus was that we only feel conscious because of a bunch of electrochemical reactions, but Tom held a different viewpoint which was hard to articulate because it was just that consciousness was more than chemical reactions but he wasn’t sure what.

I dunno, that’s an entry for another time perhaps, I’ve wasted a lot of space being excessively negative about pubs and things so I’ll wrap it up. If I’ve come across as arrogant or judgemental or bitter, twisted and joyless, allow me to direct you to the word “sociopath” in the title. It was chosen for a reason and it’s merely unfortunate that today was an entry in which I decided to share some of my more radical views on the daily events. I’m sure you’ll all understand it’s entirely in good fun, and nothing you wouldn’t get out of me if you asked for my opinion anyway.

Tomorrow I believe there’s some kind of plan to go to a pub quiz. I’m not especially sure if I’ll go, I find Pub Quizzes are best enjoyed when I’m the one at home searching the internet for answers to text around to people. I haven’t done a quiz for about a year (when we went to the Film Quiz at Borders the first term of last year) so maybe I will go. Who but I can say for certain?