Roars of triumph echo
As the future stretches on.
We feel like we have time to ride,
This precious lifeline, on and on.
But already this triumph is weakened by time,
So close to the end but with little to gain,
We sit and reflect and reason and rhyme,
What shame on our shoulders makes timeless again.
Take me home but there is none.
Or let me watch as it tumbles on down.
And weep in the ashes of happiness
Of the joy that's destroyed that surrounds.
Or, in other words,
Fuck shit bollucks bollucks cunt shit wank wank wank.
In the event that everyone we know is re-incarnated and they happen to return as fruit or vegetable, the following are my suggestions as to the vegetable that you would be most comfortable being:
Cormac : Potato
Cian : Broccoli
Sarah Lyons: Grape
Marie : Blackberry
Diane : Red Apple
Nick: Tomato / Kiwi fruit
Kevin : Gherkin
Sarah : Peach
Roni : Red Chilli Pepper
Hamish : Aubergine
Cormac : Potato
Cian : Broccoli
Sarah Lyons: Grape
Marie : Blackberry
Diane : Red Apple
Nick: Tomato / Kiwi fruit
Kevin : Gherkin
Sarah : Peach
Roni : Red Chilli Pepper
Hamish : Aubergine
A square shaft of bright light over
The calm rants of the crazy gone.
The best poetry in the world
Flies on the back of fire-flies.
And we can never follow
What flies in the trail of fire-flies.
I am higher than all of you.
I am higher than all of you.
I am higher than all of you.
This is a wave.
What’s happening to you
Outside reality theres the infinity
One or everything.
It’s a word that doesn’t describe anything
I am outside of all balance.
I want to touch you, your face.
There’s such a strong electric current.
Deeper breaths for a deeper grave.
Like sweet waves in a whirlpool,
Hitting softer and harder but always pulling me in.
I feel like I’m being electrocuted.
Or falling into a timewarp.
But it’s not bad. It’s another part of the trip.
Is that a book. Something to read?
On the back of fire flies my words fly,
Away and are floating, but you can’t read them.
I’m hidden behind them.
So many fucked up smiling faces.
So many colours. Light patches.
My back is rattled. I want to keep on.
I’m so warm. Can I touch?
He’s gonna blow. He’s gonna blow.
I know any second he’s gonna blow.
We’re in the heat of the calm.
It’s just about to explode in all of our faces.
The atrophy is spreading.
I’ll try not to breathe and see what happens.
Explosion.
I’ve lost control.
It’s such a free vice, but its gonna fall.
My tongue is tied. I think it’s good..
The calm rants of the crazy gone.
The best poetry in the world
Flies on the back of fire-flies.
And we can never follow
What flies in the trail of fire-flies.
I am higher than all of you.
I am higher than all of you.
I am higher than all of you.
This is a wave.
What’s happening to you
Outside reality theres the infinity
One or everything.
It’s a word that doesn’t describe anything
I am outside of all balance.
I want to touch you, your face.
There’s such a strong electric current.
Deeper breaths for a deeper grave.
Like sweet waves in a whirlpool,
Hitting softer and harder but always pulling me in.
I feel like I’m being electrocuted.
Or falling into a timewarp.
But it’s not bad. It’s another part of the trip.
Is that a book. Something to read?
On the back of fire flies my words fly,
Away and are floating, but you can’t read them.
I’m hidden behind them.
So many fucked up smiling faces.
So many colours. Light patches.
My back is rattled. I want to keep on.
I’m so warm. Can I touch?
He’s gonna blow. He’s gonna blow.
I know any second he’s gonna blow.
We’re in the heat of the calm.
It’s just about to explode in all of our faces.
The atrophy is spreading.
I’ll try not to breathe and see what happens.
Explosion.
I’ve lost control.
It’s such a free vice, but its gonna fall.
My tongue is tied. I think it’s good..
Rancour lives with me.
With cold stares when I look away.
And he won't leave.
So...
we get to talking each day.
I found him hidden
under old clothes and memories.
Talking about the rain,
that was slicing through the trees.
He seems to like slow music,
And talk of times past,
And how I've led myself away,
And how I'm coming last.
at worst there's hell and fire,
At best a tear and tale,
And drink to drain temptation,
tempt planning not to fail.
He talks some crazy eulogy,
drinking, time and then,
And his voice can draw blood from me,
though he's so softly spoken.
He's lived with me since childhood,
And every year he grows,
And every time I stumble,
He laughs to let me know.
But in me he is a poet,
In him I am disease
until the heat falls from my name,
And he can be released.
With cold stares when I look away.
And he won't leave.
So...
we get to talking each day.
I found him hidden
under old clothes and memories.
Talking about the rain,
that was slicing through the trees.
He seems to like slow music,
And talk of times past,
And how I've led myself away,
And how I'm coming last.
at worst there's hell and fire,
At best a tear and tale,
And drink to drain temptation,
tempt planning not to fail.
He talks some crazy eulogy,
drinking, time and then,
And his voice can draw blood from me,
though he's so softly spoken.
He's lived with me since childhood,
And every year he grows,
And every time I stumble,
He laughs to let me know.
But in me he is a poet,
In him I am disease
until the heat falls from my name,
And he can be released.
This is all you need in your pockets to have a fun life:
Left jacket pocket: Watch made out of candy. Blue pen.
Right jacket pocket: White rizla, red rizla, green swan and red swan. One whammy bar. One twix. One snickers.
Inside jacket pocket: Whiskey / beer / anything stash. Being a skobe I find I like to use coke bottles for my alcohol.
Left trousers pocket: Phone Keys Cigarettes timetable and two lighters.
Right trouser pocket: Wallet, spare packet of skins, loose change, 4 picks.
Things you could attempt to fold down into your pocket to have more fun life:
Girls
Guitars
Every playboy centrefold since 1965.
A keg.
2 kegs.
2 kegs and a litre of whiskey.
A Poitin stil.
A sky scraper (impresses girls to have 129 storeys in your trouser pocket)
More pockets.
Left jacket pocket: Watch made out of candy. Blue pen.
Right jacket pocket: White rizla, red rizla, green swan and red swan. One whammy bar. One twix. One snickers.
Inside jacket pocket: Whiskey / beer / anything stash. Being a skobe I find I like to use coke bottles for my alcohol.
Left trousers pocket: Phone Keys Cigarettes timetable and two lighters.
Right trouser pocket: Wallet, spare packet of skins, loose change, 4 picks.
Things you could attempt to fold down into your pocket to have more fun life:
Girls
Guitars
Every playboy centrefold since 1965.
A keg.
2 kegs.
2 kegs and a litre of whiskey.
A Poitin stil.
A sky scraper (impresses girls to have 129 storeys in your trouser pocket)
More pockets.
Hewwo.
I know nothing about computers.
But every day they make me walk up three flights of stairs to look out a window watching a load of cars park.
And soon they won't let me visit cancer town any more. It's my most beloved of all towns.
I don't really care, it looks like they're giving me a great big degree in it. I mean the fridge. I mean I.T.
Whoopeeee!!!!!
I think other semesters I have been trying to settle into the semester, I think this one Im trying to settle into life after college. But I dont think that I will fundamentally do anything. Not anything responsible anyway.
I know nothing about computers.
But every day they make me walk up three flights of stairs to look out a window watching a load of cars park.
And soon they won't let me visit cancer town any more. It's my most beloved of all towns.
I don't really care, it looks like they're giving me a great big degree in it. I mean the fridge. I mean I.T.
Whoopeeee!!!!!
I think other semesters I have been trying to settle into the semester, I think this one Im trying to settle into life after college. But I dont think that I will fundamentally do anything. Not anything responsible anyway.
CHello folkses.
Did u know that they have to build the boat house?
Apparently if it gets voted in, it has to be done unless they have another referendum!
For the benefit of four clubs.
And why does a mountain bike club want a boat house?
And does the Sub Aqua club even exist?
You know that noise when the scientist turns into the Hulk?
Something along the lines of MAFUFANGHHHHAAAARRRRR!
They're all like rats on a sinking ship, running to shore, hoping to not be blamed for gnawing through the hull.
I'm sure it's nobody's fault. I mean even Animal Farm ended badly, right?
The SU building always reminded me of a ginger bread house anyway. I never knew why so many undesirable elements were sustained. I mean, the ridiculousness of actually choosing hours of meaningless preparation for pointless events, the wasted hours at meeting after meeting, day after day, until it's a day before the exams and you can't study, cos you're busy crepe papering the man size model of the Pres that they're carrying from UL to fatima to honour his eternal greatness.. I mean those things are ridiculous, have you ever been at one? It's just student politics, it's all fun and games till someone loses 180 quajillion dollars.
`I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: `but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.'
`Explain all that,' said the Mock Turtle.
`No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: `explanations take such a dreadful time.'
Did u know that they have to build the boat house?
Apparently if it gets voted in, it has to be done unless they have another referendum!
For the benefit of four clubs.
And why does a mountain bike club want a boat house?
And does the Sub Aqua club even exist?
You know that noise when the scientist turns into the Hulk?
Something along the lines of MAFUFANGHHHHAAAARRRRR!
They're all like rats on a sinking ship, running to shore, hoping to not be blamed for gnawing through the hull.
I'm sure it's nobody's fault. I mean even Animal Farm ended badly, right?
The SU building always reminded me of a ginger bread house anyway. I never knew why so many undesirable elements were sustained. I mean, the ridiculousness of actually choosing hours of meaningless preparation for pointless events, the wasted hours at meeting after meeting, day after day, until it's a day before the exams and you can't study, cos you're busy crepe papering the man size model of the Pres that they're carrying from UL to fatima to honour his eternal greatness.. I mean those things are ridiculous, have you ever been at one? It's just student politics, it's all fun and games till someone loses 180 quajillion dollars.
`I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,' said Alice a little timidly: `but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.'
`Explain all that,' said the Mock Turtle.
`No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an impatient tone: `explanations take such a dreadful time.'
To whom it may concern,
The final draft version of the Boathouse Memorandum of Understanding
between ULSU and UL is available for viewing in the offices of Gemma
Nolan, Class Reps Development Officer and Paul Lee, Clubs & Societies
Development Officer. The memorandum has been agreed between
representatives of the Students' Union, the 4 Clubs involved in the
Boathouse Project namely the Kayak, Rowing, Mountain Bike & Sub Aqua
Clubs and with representatives of the office of John O'Connor, Vice
President Administration & Secretary of UL. The memorandum has been
ratified by ULSU Executive Committee. The memorandum outlines the
process by which the design & construction of the Boathouse should
proceed. It also covers financial, management and administration of the
boathouse.
The memorandum will remain on view until 5pm Friday 20th, February 2003
after which the parties involved will consider any submissions or
omissions that have been brought forward by members of the Student
Population. After these issues have been dealt with the memorandum will
be signed by representatives of the Students' Union and the University
unless a further re draft of the Memorandum is necessary.
This memorandum is the result to date of the decision by UL Students to
endorse a funding plan by way of referendum in April 2003 for the
Construction of a Boathouse on the banks of the Shannon at UL.
Thanks,
Slán,
Eoin Ó Broin
President,
Students' Union,
University of Limerick,
Limerick.
Phone: + 353 - 61 - 202326
Fax: + 353 - 61 - 213476
e-mail: supresident@ul.ie
web: www.ulsu.ul.ie
Ahahahahahhha
It's not like they put these idiots in charge of millions of pounds of misappropriated student funds.
I cannot believe they're still building it.
Fucking idiot rower nazi's can they not just fucking build a raft, it was good enough for Robinson Crusoe, and he didn't have no gold plated boat house, or no horsey looking bitch of no rower's girlfriend.
The final draft version of the Boathouse Memorandum of Understanding
between ULSU and UL is available for viewing in the offices of Gemma
Nolan, Class Reps Development Officer and Paul Lee, Clubs & Societies
Development Officer. The memorandum has been agreed between
representatives of the Students' Union, the 4 Clubs involved in the
Boathouse Project namely the Kayak, Rowing, Mountain Bike & Sub Aqua
Clubs and with representatives of the office of John O'Connor, Vice
President Administration & Secretary of UL. The memorandum has been
ratified by ULSU Executive Committee. The memorandum outlines the
process by which the design & construction of the Boathouse should
proceed. It also covers financial, management and administration of the
boathouse.
The memorandum will remain on view until 5pm Friday 20th, February 2003
after which the parties involved will consider any submissions or
omissions that have been brought forward by members of the Student
Population. After these issues have been dealt with the memorandum will
be signed by representatives of the Students' Union and the University
unless a further re draft of the Memorandum is necessary.
This memorandum is the result to date of the decision by UL Students to
endorse a funding plan by way of referendum in April 2003 for the
Construction of a Boathouse on the banks of the Shannon at UL.
Thanks,
Slán,
Eoin Ó Broin
President,
Students' Union,
University of Limerick,
Limerick.
Phone: + 353 - 61 - 202326
Fax: + 353 - 61 - 213476
e-mail: supresident@ul.ie
web: www.ulsu.ul.ie
Ahahahahahhha
It's not like they put these idiots in charge of millions of pounds of misappropriated student funds.
I cannot believe they're still building it.
Fucking idiot rower nazi's can they not just fucking build a raft, it was good enough for Robinson Crusoe, and he didn't have no gold plated boat house, or no horsey looking bitch of no rower's girlfriend.
I got a record player yesterday!
And a few old 45's as well.
Found it for 15 yoyo in a second hand store, and have been smiling like a fool ever since.
I think the truly cool thing about vinyl is how much they were loved. I mean, a cassette is a medium through which to play music, but people don't really give a shit about tapes, throw them anywhere, lose them easily, record Mariah carey albums on them...
Something about records just says "Mind me, you inferior layer of smegma just below the cock of life." And Im pretty sure everyone to fuck hates CD's. I hate the shit right out of CD's. Cos they're just that smidgen too fidgety.
Of course you need CD's for CD quality sound, but they scratch, and skip, and tend to suck, and be small. And in terms of music they were a step backward. Remember when you couldnt copy CD's? Yeah, that whole 15 years there. My first CD player didn't even have a fast forward button. How is that an advance in technology, for fuck sake? You can record from tape to tape immediately at your own HiFi, and yet everyone assumes they are inferior, right? And the speakers sucked, and the radio broke, and the twin tape decks never worked properly in the first place. And have you ever burned a really cool CD-r and then when you wanted to listen to it it just didn't work, for no apparent reason. When did a tape not ever work for no apparent reason? When your brother accidentally ingested it, and when it worked it's way around, he did his business into a flamey pit and then ran over it 17 times with a steam roller, and it would probably still play.
Of course, the things I hate about CD's I love about records now. If you drop one, it will more than likely shatter, along with many of my dreams. Just holding a record seems to imply that you are doing it damage. And I love having a musical outlet that just seems to exist to smugly frighten me. They get scratched through repeated playing, and where the fuck does anyone even get LP's anymore? But just holding a record feels right. Wobbly, scary, and unearthly, but right. When Led Zeppelin recorded 4 they did it on vinyl for vinyl. With a big huge picture, and a record to flip over, with that amazing vinyl sound, a fuzzy roar. My speakers sound a little like there's a fucking lion in the next room with a particular interest in wearing my nuts as earrings. But, at the same time, in the grand scheme of the world, and life, and evolution, time and space, I suppose the difference between CD's tapes and LP's doesnt really matter. Im just hip happy cos I got a record player for 15 euro.
You know how to fast forward a record? You nudge the arm forward.
And a few old 45's as well.
Found it for 15 yoyo in a second hand store, and have been smiling like a fool ever since.
I think the truly cool thing about vinyl is how much they were loved. I mean, a cassette is a medium through which to play music, but people don't really give a shit about tapes, throw them anywhere, lose them easily, record Mariah carey albums on them...
Something about records just says "Mind me, you inferior layer of smegma just below the cock of life." And Im pretty sure everyone to fuck hates CD's. I hate the shit right out of CD's. Cos they're just that smidgen too fidgety.
Of course you need CD's for CD quality sound, but they scratch, and skip, and tend to suck, and be small. And in terms of music they were a step backward. Remember when you couldnt copy CD's? Yeah, that whole 15 years there. My first CD player didn't even have a fast forward button. How is that an advance in technology, for fuck sake? You can record from tape to tape immediately at your own HiFi, and yet everyone assumes they are inferior, right? And the speakers sucked, and the radio broke, and the twin tape decks never worked properly in the first place. And have you ever burned a really cool CD-r and then when you wanted to listen to it it just didn't work, for no apparent reason. When did a tape not ever work for no apparent reason? When your brother accidentally ingested it, and when it worked it's way around, he did his business into a flamey pit and then ran over it 17 times with a steam roller, and it would probably still play.
Of course, the things I hate about CD's I love about records now. If you drop one, it will more than likely shatter, along with many of my dreams. Just holding a record seems to imply that you are doing it damage. And I love having a musical outlet that just seems to exist to smugly frighten me. They get scratched through repeated playing, and where the fuck does anyone even get LP's anymore? But just holding a record feels right. Wobbly, scary, and unearthly, but right. When Led Zeppelin recorded 4 they did it on vinyl for vinyl. With a big huge picture, and a record to flip over, with that amazing vinyl sound, a fuzzy roar. My speakers sound a little like there's a fucking lion in the next room with a particular interest in wearing my nuts as earrings. But, at the same time, in the grand scheme of the world, and life, and evolution, time and space, I suppose the difference between CD's tapes and LP's doesnt really matter. Im just hip happy cos I got a record player for 15 euro.
You know how to fast forward a record? You nudge the arm forward.
Oh how absently mindedly wise one can be when trying to avoid working on one's FYP.
Have been snooping around live journals for a while.
I am intrigued.
Pretty much got this blog here to beatch and moan, and it turns out thats the ONLY thing blogs, bloggers, journals and live journals are actually for. But that isnt good, because everyone is off on their own, bitching and moaning, like you do, but now they have friends lists, so your friends can bitch and moan about your bitchy moan in the first place. That's bitchy moan squared. and bitchy moan squared equals no shagging for anyone who owns a blog or live journal.
With that in mind
Have been snooping around live journals for a while.
I am intrigued.
Pretty much got this blog here to beatch and moan, and it turns out thats the ONLY thing blogs, bloggers, journals and live journals are actually for. But that isnt good, because everyone is off on their own, bitching and moaning, like you do, but now they have friends lists, so your friends can bitch and moan about your bitchy moan in the first place. That's bitchy moan squared. and bitchy moan squared equals no shagging for anyone who owns a blog or live journal.
With that in mind
Hmmmm...... I do like to read mr. Wilson, its just sometimes, all the words fall out of the pages, and start flying, and bugger me if I wasnt nearly killed by a conjunction last night.
How come nobody ever answers these polls when they're in the middle of a Bit of Koontz or Grisham as I know we all have done. Kinda an internet extension. Surely everyone knows that they are a different person online. Its a difference between speech and writing. At least writing always has a chance to be pre-meditated, so we get lots and lots of really smart answers to polls from people who want to be perceived a certain way. I dunno. Everyone notices all the time how people react differently in a chat room than when they're in the "real" world. Is that because everyone on the internet has an agenda of some sort? Or that the internet connects with a mass subconscious depression? Or that the spoken word releases one part of our mind, and the written word another?
If you view the human brain as a limited capacity processor, then we take it that different parts of the brain are stimulated by different combinations of synapses and dendrites, so we would reactly to someone writing to us to tell us to go fuck ourselves, and someone ringing us to tell us to go fuck ourselves.
If you hear someone speak in person you see their heart, how they are, how they think, how they react. If you see someone's post on the internet, there are no lines to read between, either you say something or you don't. and too many people have an agenda to portray themselves in a certain way, because we're all put in a position to act like that at that certain time. If you're feeling sensitive and misunderstood and loathed, you can log on to sensitiveMisunderstoodAndLoathed.com and post away. If you're feeling sensitive and misunderstood and loathed in a bar in limerick, you are probably about to have a stool wrapped around your teeth.
*tired of all these faces*
nik.
`I only wish I had such eyes,' the King remarked in a fretful tone. `To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it's as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!'
How come nobody ever answers these polls when they're in the middle of a Bit of Koontz or Grisham as I know we all have done. Kinda an internet extension. Surely everyone knows that they are a different person online. Its a difference between speech and writing. At least writing always has a chance to be pre-meditated, so we get lots and lots of really smart answers to polls from people who want to be perceived a certain way. I dunno. Everyone notices all the time how people react differently in a chat room than when they're in the "real" world. Is that because everyone on the internet has an agenda of some sort? Or that the internet connects with a mass subconscious depression? Or that the spoken word releases one part of our mind, and the written word another?
If you view the human brain as a limited capacity processor, then we take it that different parts of the brain are stimulated by different combinations of synapses and dendrites, so we would reactly to someone writing to us to tell us to go fuck ourselves, and someone ringing us to tell us to go fuck ourselves.
If you hear someone speak in person you see their heart, how they are, how they think, how they react. If you see someone's post on the internet, there are no lines to read between, either you say something or you don't. and too many people have an agenda to portray themselves in a certain way, because we're all put in a position to act like that at that certain time. If you're feeling sensitive and misunderstood and loathed, you can log on to sensitiveMisunderstoodAndLoathed.com and post away. If you're feeling sensitive and misunderstood and loathed in a bar in limerick, you are probably about to have a stool wrapped around your teeth.
*tired of all these faces*
nik.
`I only wish I had such eyes,' the King remarked in a fretful tone. `To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it's as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!'
Yeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaawwwwwww.
Let's go n shoot us some injuns tonto.
OK Mr. Ranger.
Apparently the ULSU is 180 quajillion euro in debt.
Do you know why they are 180 quajillion euro in debt?
BECAUSE THEY ARE A BUNCH OF MORONS.
Let's see. We started off last year and O'broin got sworn in under a storm about pubs closing and opening that he helped create. "O' Broin saves tha Stables" was one of the posters on the election day as far as I can remember.
If one of the planes on september 11 missed one of the twin towers cos the pilot was dumb, would that mean that the pilot saved one of the towers? No. It would mean that he's such a fucking idiotic fuckwit that he couldnt even fuck up right.
This was after doing the same thing that the ULSU always do and using underhand tactics to let ridiculous things pass. Come on, actually making people, reasonable sane humans, to vote over whether some jars of coffee get kicked out of a shop that nobody buys anything in anyway, because they never have fags or skins. And then the boathouse thing. All those club morons telling us to vote so that they can have a fucking ivory tinted boathouse to store all their oars in and take their girlfriends to. The college was so apathetic to that that had it not been slid in as a 2nd part to the election, then they would never have got necessary numbers to pass that ridiculous nonsense.
Lets put it into context. They made us vote to make them feel better. They basically wanted their fucking boat hole, so they asked us to ease their fucked up little nazi minds. And they asked us whether it was ok to take money off students that aren't even here to vote about how the fucking stupid SU is going to spend their money. That's right SU, its not your fucking money, though nobody in there could probably even count it if it were, it's the student's money, and it's your job to spend it to better the lives of students around UL. What the fuck is a boat house gonna do for me?
Yeah, the ENTS crew does a great job, and an Focal and comm is spot on, particularly good considering how the rest of the SU has more testicles than braincells, but why is the whole system based on the ridiculous bureaucracy that has marred UL's good name ever since we entered this astoundingly shit Downer era.
So now we have some of the most dedicated and committed people who are working really hard to try and get things done for students. But at the same time, you have braindead drooling slackjawed loosebowelled dipsticks with their fingers on the buttons, coming up with plan after plan to sidetrack progress, slow things down a little bit, and make sure that nothing good ever happens without at least 4 semesters worth of discussion, and twenty five trees worth of paperwork and a hell of a lot of guilt and bad feeling. Ask not what the SU can do for you, ask where the President's office is, and if he's managed to get kerosene and matches banned from the campus yet.
Let's go n shoot us some injuns tonto.
OK Mr. Ranger.
Apparently the ULSU is 180 quajillion euro in debt.
Do you know why they are 180 quajillion euro in debt?
BECAUSE THEY ARE A BUNCH OF MORONS.
Let's see. We started off last year and O'broin got sworn in under a storm about pubs closing and opening that he helped create. "O' Broin saves tha Stables" was one of the posters on the election day as far as I can remember.
If one of the planes on september 11 missed one of the twin towers cos the pilot was dumb, would that mean that the pilot saved one of the towers? No. It would mean that he's such a fucking idiotic fuckwit that he couldnt even fuck up right.
This was after doing the same thing that the ULSU always do and using underhand tactics to let ridiculous things pass. Come on, actually making people, reasonable sane humans, to vote over whether some jars of coffee get kicked out of a shop that nobody buys anything in anyway, because they never have fags or skins. And then the boathouse thing. All those club morons telling us to vote so that they can have a fucking ivory tinted boathouse to store all their oars in and take their girlfriends to. The college was so apathetic to that that had it not been slid in as a 2nd part to the election, then they would never have got necessary numbers to pass that ridiculous nonsense.
Lets put it into context. They made us vote to make them feel better. They basically wanted their fucking boat hole, so they asked us to ease their fucked up little nazi minds. And they asked us whether it was ok to take money off students that aren't even here to vote about how the fucking stupid SU is going to spend their money. That's right SU, its not your fucking money, though nobody in there could probably even count it if it were, it's the student's money, and it's your job to spend it to better the lives of students around UL. What the fuck is a boat house gonna do for me?
Yeah, the ENTS crew does a great job, and an Focal and comm is spot on, particularly good considering how the rest of the SU has more testicles than braincells, but why is the whole system based on the ridiculous bureaucracy that has marred UL's good name ever since we entered this astoundingly shit Downer era.
So now we have some of the most dedicated and committed people who are working really hard to try and get things done for students. But at the same time, you have braindead drooling slackjawed loosebowelled dipsticks with their fingers on the buttons, coming up with plan after plan to sidetrack progress, slow things down a little bit, and make sure that nothing good ever happens without at least 4 semesters worth of discussion, and twenty five trees worth of paperwork and a hell of a lot of guilt and bad feeling. Ask not what the SU can do for you, ask where the President's office is, and if he's managed to get kerosene and matches banned from the campus yet.
Zoom, hung a swift left, perfectly executed. He had to speed up, had to keep going. Now more than ever his life depended on the skills he had spent years honing. And now it was hir first raid, and he was already under heavy fire. Swerving and looping he manages to evade detection, just a second to breathe. He knew as soon as he started moving again they would hear him and redouble their efforts. There was nothing left to do now but escape. He swung himself out and towards home, resignment in his eyes. Even as the final swing of the fly swatter cracked his spine in two and sent him in two parts to the floor.
Nothing clears my mind like a distraction. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Thats what my eyes sound like.
Buzz. They're moving too. Its very rhythmic. Buzz Buzz.
Everything changed after that day. Buzz. They're called Buzz. My eyes. Well my right eye is called Buzz. My left eye is called Buzz. That day that I walked into that elevator. I didn't know I would only nudge him into my ear. Buzz. Who would have thought that a fly could live so long. Buzz.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU SIX LEGGED FUCK!
Thats what my eyes sound like.
Buzz. They're moving too. Its very rhythmic. Buzz Buzz.
Everything changed after that day. Buzz. They're called Buzz. My eyes. Well my right eye is called Buzz. My left eye is called Buzz. That day that I walked into that elevator. I didn't know I would only nudge him into my ear. Buzz. Who would have thought that a fly could live so long. Buzz.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU SIX LEGGED FUCK!
en·tro·py ( P ) Pronunciation Key (ntr-p)
n. pl. en·tro·pies
Symbol S For a closed thermodynamic system, a quantitative measure of the amount of thermal energy not available to do work.
A measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system.
A measure of the loss of information in a transmitted message.
The tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.
Inevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society.
n. pl. en·tro·pies
Symbol S For a closed thermodynamic system, a quantitative measure of the amount of thermal energy not available to do work.
A measure of the disorder or randomness in a closed system.
A measure of the loss of information in a transmitted message.
The tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.
Inevitable and steady deterioration of a system or society.
Apathy and entropy, are together, in perfect harmony.
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How many question marks?
How many answers?
FREE ASSOCIATION TIME CHILDREN.
Peyote Joe likes smoking children,
So he went to the neighbours house, and smoked their child, Ben Tenson.
He also smoked their hedges.
Ten's sister Marlboro turned very red at the prospect.
?????????????????????????????????????
How many question marks?
How many answers?
FREE ASSOCIATION TIME CHILDREN.
Peyote Joe likes smoking children,
So he went to the neighbours house, and smoked their child, Ben Tenson.
He also smoked their hedges.
Ten's sister Marlboro turned very red at the prospect.
Wella momma wella don't be sad.
Wella momma wella that's too bad.
I dunno whats going on. In to round two of three exams in three days.
In the next 24 hrs I have two.
Life sux.
Till saturday.
Saturday, that's tomorrow. Come tomorrow I will be ok.
Dawn air smacks hell into my stomach.
Panic after panic crests the waves of pain.
I can see no end point, no turning back.
Where do men go once they are slain.
I see the failing lights die out,
One for every Dreamer's end.
Light a candle for this one,
A prayer begging god to send
A second of pure clarity,
A breath of social atrophy
No thoughts conjured stay with me,
And all emotions fall from me.
Wella momma wella that's too bad.
I dunno whats going on. In to round two of three exams in three days.
In the next 24 hrs I have two.
Life sux.
Till saturday.
Saturday, that's tomorrow. Come tomorrow I will be ok.
Dawn air smacks hell into my stomach.
Panic after panic crests the waves of pain.
I can see no end point, no turning back.
Where do men go once they are slain.
I see the failing lights die out,
One for every Dreamer's end.
Light a candle for this one,
A prayer begging god to send
A second of pure clarity,
A breath of social atrophy
No thoughts conjured stay with me,
And all emotions fall from me.
Sleep starling, the moonshine felled you,
Place your bitter wing at ease,
Turned tail and falling out of view,
He's sliding gently on the breeze.
A leaf that whimpers, Loathe to follow,
But, slowly it begins its quest,
His rumpling brothers, all in a row,
Follow on with hopes to nest.
Love has taken wing in me,
My flight to fail, but more to grow,
And let her wings be clipped and free,
Or know more than I can ever know.
Place your bitter wing at ease,
Turned tail and falling out of view,
He's sliding gently on the breeze.
A leaf that whimpers, Loathe to follow,
But, slowly it begins its quest,
His rumpling brothers, all in a row,
Follow on with hopes to nest.
Love has taken wing in me,
My flight to fail, but more to grow,
And let her wings be clipped and free,
Or know more than I can ever know.
Tortured rocks sit jagged like fools.
Trying to mock the spray that kills them.
Unmoving skies are making all rules,
Conjuring seas to collapse and attack them.
Howling explosions tell us of deaths,
Rubble and shards with weapons are met.
Alone a faltering cairn disbands,
Holding its brothers ransom on high,
And falls in on itself to make it's own grave,
A handmade grave marks itself to die.
Its memory forgotten by time and decline,
It's entombed bones are safer than mine.
On high the cliff sits eroded and bleeding,
His minions have fallen, He's left to his wounds.
A retreating sea mocks its beating,
And waits until night to send it to doom.
Inhaling waters that drag back the shore,
Sucking me down, I won't breathe anymore.
Trying to mock the spray that kills them.
Unmoving skies are making all rules,
Conjuring seas to collapse and attack them.
Howling explosions tell us of deaths,
Rubble and shards with weapons are met.
Alone a faltering cairn disbands,
Holding its brothers ransom on high,
And falls in on itself to make it's own grave,
A handmade grave marks itself to die.
Its memory forgotten by time and decline,
It's entombed bones are safer than mine.
On high the cliff sits eroded and bleeding,
His minions have fallen, He's left to his wounds.
A retreating sea mocks its beating,
And waits until night to send it to doom.
Inhaling waters that drag back the shore,
Sucking me down, I won't breathe anymore.
One for a hot girl in the project management exam
And follow the angel's eyes
I watched her enter, and knew from that,
Her eyes on me, a lust bolt forth,
A face so new, yet so alone,
And angered for being alone.
Watched her choose, her perch and nest,
And laughed at how I had a chance,
And sat herself down next to me,
Leading me in this soft dance.
But eyesight failed and beauty pailed,
Her name unknown, my fortunes failed,
She sat and scribed and never spoke,
And left before our troth awoke.
True love fell to me,
The love of unknown eyes.
In a second of clarity,
The failing embers die.
And follow the angel's eyes
I watched her enter, and knew from that,
Her eyes on me, a lust bolt forth,
A face so new, yet so alone,
And angered for being alone.
Watched her choose, her perch and nest,
And laughed at how I had a chance,
And sat herself down next to me,
Leading me in this soft dance.
But eyesight failed and beauty pailed,
Her name unknown, my fortunes failed,
She sat and scribed and never spoke,
And left before our troth awoke.
True love fell to me,
The love of unknown eyes.
In a second of clarity,
The failing embers die.
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