Dearest Reader,
I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say 23062010 is a very special number to people. I know someone who feels that way. You probably do, too.
And when it comes to typing my umpteenth blog post, I can't help but be part of this tradition.
It is a very special day, indeed. Not just because this is my 157th blurb, but also because today is the first day of the completion of school. I am through with their examinations. I am done with their Boards. We've waved each other a nice goodbye. One that makes you want to say 'hello' again. Whoops, I've lied to you.
Anyway, since this is the end of a chapter, I am forced to treat it with a little extra importance. And with treating it so, there is an important announcement I'd like to make.
I am not going to blog anymore on Sorry, Dinners here...
I never knew I'd have to say it so soon, but they've told me that there is no better time than now.
So, adiós muchachas, and adiós muchachos. It has been extremely prodigious contributing my thoughts to the Internet, where not many people cared.
I will be logging, blogging, poemogging on The Interlude. over the summer and then September onwards I'll be doing the aforementioned on Chapter 4 which is still work in progress.
Good night everyone, and thank you for coming. This is your host for the evening,
The Olympic Torch xx
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Uncles and Oil.
Yes lovelies, I know this is my THIRD blog of the day but I thought this one had to be shared.
It's a poem written by my Great Uncle Mike when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimers six years ago.
Morbid but beautifull, it was written to his wife Isabelle.
Old Love.
His bones were crumbling columns of sand
that blew apart when she breathed, and scattered
grains across the canyon like memories.
Once, while he was sleeping, she sewed shut
the tiny tear on his temple where the nightmares broke in
with a single strand of her tawny hair.
Once, while she was sleeping, he planted seeds
in the corner of her eyes, so her sorrows
would always bring her flowers.
-Michael Rattle. Aged 72 at the time but only 30 at heart.
This one I wrote after reading an article about the recent BP oil spill. Bastards.
Deepwater Horizon.
We stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.
Pelicans lick poison from their wings
along the shore, where dolphins wash up
slick and black as million dollar lies.
Pelicans lick poison from their wings
with their eyes clouded and hungry.
Slick and black as million dollar lies,
they watch, waiting to be washed clean.
With their eyes clouded and hungry
the black suits shrug their shoulders.
They watch, waiting to be washed clean.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say.
The black suits shrug their shoulders
as the black blood pours in barrels.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say,
smiling with a row of drills for teeth.
The black blood pours in barrels,
stealing sunlight from the seafloor.
Smiling with a row of drills for teeth,
we stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.
The Olympic Torch xx
It's a poem written by my Great Uncle Mike when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimers six years ago.
Morbid but beautifull, it was written to his wife Isabelle.
Old Love.
His bones were crumbling columns of sand
that blew apart when she breathed, and scattered
grains across the canyon like memories.
Once, while he was sleeping, she sewed shut
the tiny tear on his temple where the nightmares broke in
with a single strand of her tawny hair.
Once, while she was sleeping, he planted seeds
in the corner of her eyes, so her sorrows
would always bring her flowers.
-Michael Rattle. Aged 72 at the time but only 30 at heart.
This one I wrote after reading an article about the recent BP oil spill. Bastards.
Deepwater Horizon.
We stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.
Pelicans lick poison from their wings
along the shore, where dolphins wash up
slick and black as million dollar lies.
Pelicans lick poison from their wings
with their eyes clouded and hungry.
Slick and black as million dollar lies,
they watch, waiting to be washed clean.
With their eyes clouded and hungry
the black suits shrug their shoulders.
They watch, waiting to be washed clean.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say.
The black suits shrug their shoulders
as the black blood pours in barrels.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say,
smiling with a row of drills for teeth.
The black blood pours in barrels,
stealing sunlight from the seafloor.
Smiling with a row of drills for teeth,
we stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.
The Olympic Torch xx
Nap time.
Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.
It's almost over isn't it? This era?
The tapestry that was being woven now needs a hammer and nail.
That mixed medium dosser has bounced back some b-e-a-utiful acoustic sounds.
I hope the wools, ribbons and threads will improve with age. I hope the string instruments agree.
Hope. Twice in as many sentences.
The tempest has approached again. I hope their thunder will be the soundtrack of my summer.
Thrice.
Their eyes, they're so bright. They are my lightening reigning power surges that leave be humble, grateful, maybe even fearful.
The bolts of electric energy remind me of frayed ribbons. Look closely and the streaks of illumination will appear to be blue. My Blue Ribbons. A force of nature. But not mine, their own.
The Olympic Torch xx
It's almost over isn't it? This era?
The tapestry that was being woven now needs a hammer and nail.
That mixed medium dosser has bounced back some b-e-a-utiful acoustic sounds.
I hope the wools, ribbons and threads will improve with age. I hope the string instruments agree.
Hope. Twice in as many sentences.
The tempest has approached again. I hope their thunder will be the soundtrack of my summer.
Thrice.
Their eyes, they're so bright. They are my lightening reigning power surges that leave be humble, grateful, maybe even fearful.
The bolts of electric energy remind me of frayed ribbons. Look closely and the streaks of illumination will appear to be blue. My Blue Ribbons. A force of nature. But not mine, their own.
The Olympic Torch xx
Saturday, 19 June 2010
Go on without me.
That shall I talk to you about today?
I'm listening to Mornings by Portugal The Man. I've heard worse (Y)
I'm sat crossed legged on my bedroom floor.
I would write you a poem, but what would it be about? (you may leave a comment with sensible ideas)
I want to read Water for Elephants. The reviews have been good, but its only £6.99. That means the publisher thinks it's crap.
This is one self centered monologue blog.
I have an overdue library DVD. It was due in on the 9th. Oops.
I'm dressing up as a penguin tonight for some waitress job for some 40 year old's 40th birthday (£30 for the iPod fund)
I'm now listening to Better Than Love by Hurts. YouTube it.
I'm going shopping later. But before the later when I help a gnome spill and spray Bubbly over the 40 year old's guests. 70 bottles. Fizz Pop Bang. hows that Snap, Crackle and Pop, did I do it right?
I'm going now.
Bye.
The Olympic Torch xx
I'm listening to Mornings by Portugal The Man. I've heard worse (Y)
I'm sat crossed legged on my bedroom floor.
I would write you a poem, but what would it be about? (you may leave a comment with sensible ideas)
I want to read Water for Elephants. The reviews have been good, but its only £6.99. That means the publisher thinks it's crap.
This is one self centered monologue blog.
I have an overdue library DVD. It was due in on the 9th. Oops.
I'm dressing up as a penguin tonight for some waitress job for some 40 year old's 40th birthday (£30 for the iPod fund)
I'm now listening to Better Than Love by Hurts. YouTube it.
I'm going shopping later. But before the later when I help a gnome spill and spray Bubbly over the 40 year old's guests. 70 bottles. Fizz Pop Bang. hows that Snap, Crackle and Pop, did I do it right?
I'm going now.
Bye.
The Olympic Torch xx
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Present Tense.
Just some random thoughts;
I rarely use furniture, is that weird?
''Remember that time when we set that sheep on fire with the flaming arrow?'' ''Yeah mate, good times''
''Nah you weren't being a moron, you were gangsta''
''You're so badass, you make badasses look bad''
I have on average 4 freckles per centimetre squared on my forearms. Spare time in maths tests is never wasted time.
Wouldn't it suck to be a bear of very little brain?
''Ohhhh, it's clouding over''
....om nomnomnom
Why does the beauty of this evening make me want to weep envious tears?
It's been a while since I had a Date (hehe I love word-play)
Time to move the furniture around my room?
Note to self: Always wash hands after chopping chilli's...don't want to end up like him.
The Olympic Torch xx
I rarely use furniture, is that weird?
''Remember that time when we set that sheep on fire with the flaming arrow?'' ''Yeah mate, good times''
''Nah you weren't being a moron, you were gangsta''
''You're so badass, you make badasses look bad''
I have on average 4 freckles per centimetre squared on my forearms. Spare time in maths tests is never wasted time.
Wouldn't it suck to be a bear of very little brain?
''Ohhhh, it's clouding over''
....om nomnomnom
Why does the beauty of this evening make me want to weep envious tears?
It's been a while since I had a Date (hehe I love word-play)
Time to move the furniture around my room?
Note to self: Always wash hands after chopping chilli's...don't want to end up like him.
The Olympic Torch xx
Sunday, 13 June 2010
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Big Surprises.
well, heres a quick recap of this past week;
Mon-exam & revision
Tues-exam & revision
Weds- a one day break from exams! yippe!!...and more of the 'R' wordThurs - exam & that's right, you guessed it, revision! (cue M. Mc'tyre skip)
Fri - will be an exam and won't be any revision
Sat- who knows
Sun- :D:D:D:D:D No Chico, its not your time. Its PUPPY TIME!!!
Yeop yeop, we're going to see the little canine on Sunday morning (grumble grumble) and...AND..fingers and toes crossed there is a fairly substantial chance that we'll have a lot less leg room on the way back. But, damn that 'but', it all depends on how the wee lad is. The poor thing has been stuck down in those cold cold kennels with a spot of Kennel Cough. No matter, he is a resilient soul, he'll pull through :D
So, here he is! Monty, a cross between a greyhound and a whippet and hes bloody gorgeous. Ladies and Gentlemen, Monty Moakes :D
The Olympic Torch that will have comany when she next streaks past your door xx
Sunday, 6 June 2010
Rain, rain, go away.
' 'Rain' by Mother Nature '
She sets up and dims the lights
Her orchestra of wind blowing through lush green trees
Builds from a whisper to a forte
Crescendo!
Beautiful lightening cast blinding light in a white dangerous rhythm
Thunder drums quietly, then boom
And it stops...
To let applause ripple through the valley which she lingers
Until it stops in the early hours of the dawn
With the sun peaking over the glittering hills
Her song has finished
She slips away and hides in solitude
To write another song
To shatter earthly silence
Once again to amaze us all
And shower us with 'Rain'
The Olympic Torch xx
She sets up and dims the lights
Her orchestra of wind blowing through lush green trees
Builds from a whisper to a forte
Crescendo!
Beautiful lightening cast blinding light in a white dangerous rhythm
Thunder drums quietly, then boom
And it stops...
To let applause ripple through the valley which she lingers
Until it stops in the early hours of the dawn
With the sun peaking over the glittering hills
Her song has finished
She slips away and hides in solitude
To write another song
To shatter earthly silence
Once again to amaze us all
And shower us with 'Rain'
The Olympic Torch xx
Tuesday, 1 June 2010
Will it ever end?
Days like today don't come and go every day. They show up at your door only once, and even though they don't ring the bell twice, they tend to last long enough to remember. It's like a melodious series of events, really. A lot like life. In a nutshell.
Today, the calendar informed me that there isn't much time for school to end. Coincidentally, it'll take just as much time for everything else to begin, as they say.
But hasn't everything already begun?
Ponder.
The Olympic Torch xx
Today, the calendar informed me that there isn't much time for school to end. Coincidentally, it'll take just as much time for everything else to begin, as they say.
But hasn't everything already begun?
Ponder.
The Olympic Torch xx
Things.
There has been a lot of this going around lately;
Don't do this. Do that. That's not right. Do that. Are you sure you want that? Don't do that! Do this. This is odd. Stay away from that. Never do this. Ever. Don't do it. Is that the right thing to do? Do it. Don't do it. Do not do that, ever. If you do that, you'll make a mistake. Don't do it. You'll regret it. Don't do it. What is right, what is wrong? Don't do it. I don't think you should do that. You know, you'll wish you did this when you see other people have done it. Do it, then. But don't do that. I don't think it's the right thing to do. Don't do this. Do that. Doing that would result in something unfortunate. Why would you regret it? Because you live by standards that are beginning to collide with things that you want to do. They don't allow you to do them. So, I'm regretting it both ways. Doing it, and not. So, I'd advise that you don't do it. Do not, ever in your life, do that. Maybe in the future, you'll wish you didn't want that. Make the right decision. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do not do this. And who are you to tell me what to do? You're a blind man in search of a path even though you don't know where to go. Any path will take you there. So take my advice, don't do this. Do this. Don't do this.
Things. Gah. Who needs it?
The Olympic Torch xx
Don't do this. Do that. That's not right. Do that. Are you sure you want that? Don't do that! Do this. This is odd. Stay away from that. Never do this. Ever. Don't do it. Is that the right thing to do? Do it. Don't do it. Do not do that, ever. If you do that, you'll make a mistake. Don't do it. You'll regret it. Don't do it. What is right, what is wrong? Don't do it. I don't think you should do that. You know, you'll wish you did this when you see other people have done it. Do it, then. But don't do that. I don't think it's the right thing to do. Don't do this. Do that. Doing that would result in something unfortunate. Why would you regret it? Because you live by standards that are beginning to collide with things that you want to do. They don't allow you to do them. So, I'm regretting it both ways. Doing it, and not. So, I'd advise that you don't do it. Do not, ever in your life, do that. Maybe in the future, you'll wish you didn't want that. Make the right decision. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do not do this. And who are you to tell me what to do? You're a blind man in search of a path even though you don't know where to go. Any path will take you there. So take my advice, don't do this. Do this. Don't do this.
Things. Gah. Who needs it?
The Olympic Torch xx
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