One

Today was my "day off" day - I have two lessons first thing in the morning and the rest of the day is mine for the taking. Today, though, was unusual in that I actually spent the whole day working. That's right, folks, from 8.45 until 15.00 - excluding a fifteen minute lunch break - I was actually working pretty much non-stop.
How? Well, I was in the studio. The school studio. The first time I've been totally free to use expensive equipment to make noises *for free*, all on my own. The problem is, I had to record someone else's song, otherwise I don't get an A level.
So I did U2's "One," which is a brilliant song. Despite my best efforts, the only musician I could rake in to help me was Josh Albiston, who played drums. The rest I had to do entirely on my own. Normally I relish the opportunity but today - with U2 songs - I wasn't exactly over the moon. Despite that I did a good job. Yes, I rushed a little but that wasn't laziness: the school studio is the most unreliable location on the planet. Prone to power-cuts, double-bookings, unexpected visitors and worse, it's safest to get the job done quickly. Thus, while my recording isn't top-quality gleam, it's chilled out, not over-produced and actually quite groovy.
Now I need some food before I faint.
Honest day's work? Hah!

New Look

It's glamorous, over the top, in your face, BIG, bright, flashy...

You'll get used to it. Allow me to introduce Making Sense Of Me, Two Year Anniversary Template, or Robin's Big Bright Flashy Look. I know I've already made an emotional speech and it isn't even December yet but hey, I want to do another one. So:

Thank you all for coming here today, sod this I'm going to get lunch

step outside

New song, very rocky, good lyrics. It's a new theme I'm exploring and I like it. Check out the updated House Of Dreams while you're there.

Possibly The Best Picture I've Ever Seen*

If you don't know what it means, well... it speaks for itself















*Except perhaps the one of the uh... disadvantaged boy being chased by Agent Smith

Pidgeon, Innit

Pidgeon was in our function room, flapping around. It had smashed two windows, one to get in and one in a panic. We carried it out. Later, I made a video of the events.

Coming Tomorrow To A Weblog Near You

December 10th marks two years of "Making Sense Of Me" (orignally AlbinWebII, developed into various stages, many of which I've totally forgotten) - my longest-running and most-read weblog. I've been "in the blogosphere" (my, I hate that word) for about three years now, have had over ten blogs (I hate that word too) and published 1289 posts to date on this weblog alone. I think we can safely say that "Making Sense Of Me" has been my important contribution to the blogosphere (damnit) and has kept you all bemused, entertained, aggrivated, steeped in jealousy and many other things too - most of all, it has kept you *occupied* while I've been busy planning world domination etc. It has certainly kept me from doing any real work, which I see as a brilliant thing.

Anyway, why this sentimental rubbish? Because December marks my two year anniversary, I've made a gorgeous template and hooked all my blogs and websites together... sort of. Put it this way, navigation has never been easier (in relative terms) and as I say, it's very sexy. Also, while blogging (I *really* hate that word) may be seen as petty, dull and a waste of time, it has played an important part of my life (and yours) these last two years and if nothing else, subtle changes of character are documented for everyone to see. With this in mind, I think it appropriate that you all shower me with compliments, gifts - whatever takes your fancy - throughout the December period and for as long as we both shall blog post things on the internet.

THERE IS ANOTHER WAY OF PUTTING IT

Thank you, and good night

Musician, Writer, Explorer

I've been designing a "Two year anniversary" template for my various blogs, websites etc and the header and footer read "Robin Mitchell: Musician, Writer, Explorer."
However, I'm not sure that is particularly accurate. I mean, I explore creatively and I love running around and stuff but people might get the wrong idea. Also, musician and writer go together a lot. So maybe I should change it.

Anyways, do any of y'all have any good suggestions?

Legs

I was watching Daniel Ghali at washing up today... a four-year-old in a kitchen of twelve adults, sorta wandering around in a forest of legs, pulling at people to try and get some attention.
I guess I feel like that. I'm one for extravagant metaphors, it's true, and I think of some damn good ones, but for real I do feel like that. I'm very aware that I'm seventeen. I'm a kid. I have some adult priveleges and responsibilities, but legally, physically, mentally, I'm a child. I've got a lot to learn. More than that though, I feel dwarfed by the world around me, sorta drowned out a little at times, so I'm vying for attention with my writing, my humour, increasingly extravagant persona, my music even...

hot damn I'm good at analogies.

Dan Maurice

I recently found Dan Maurice's website which is definitely worth a read (especially if you're interested in motorbikes or travelling). He writes well and his adventures thus far have been interesting - plus there's some great photography.

Stuck

I feel like I'm stuck in a system here. I hate the burden of work hanging over me, and the pressure of daily routine. Every day I wake up in the morning and I feel rubbish. There's an hour-long period where I just want to quit everything, withdraw everything I've said or done, and just hide. It's taken me six months to realise this, but that is honestly exactly it. Everything I do inbetween now and summer is just killing time, killing it brutally.

Nothing Helps A Bad Mood Like Spreading It Around

Thus spake Calvin, and while it may be true it don't make it excusable. Bad moods are hanging over this house like a black cloud at the moment (excuse underlying racial slur) and it's very uncomfortable.

A bit like a chair made of nails.

To be fair, I am more than part responsible - if I was less tired I'd cope way better. But the truth is, I'm more exhausted than a bag of wet geese.

I love making similes.

dude!

hell is for heroes are coming to bristol again... after all these years...

feb 9th 2007 for all you fanz.

also, please spread the wordings:

Subject i'm extremely depressed
Body: i'm extremely depressed at the moment, and it would make me feel better if i knew that other people felt the same way. so perhaps you can help me: post this sad face post everywhere. the more people that see it, the happier i'll be...
: (
or maybe not...
either way, do it
: (

: ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : ( : (
hmm, that looks more like train-tracks
i like trains
only kidding, i hate trains : (
: (






: (






have a nice day

Seriously Now...

In response to Litvinenko's letter
Putin's aide Sergei Yastrzhembsky commented:

The excessive number of calculated coincidences between the deaths of people, who defined themselves as the opposition to the Russian authorities, and major international events involving Vladimir Putin is a source of concern.
I am far from believing in the conspiracy theory, but, in this case, I think that we are witnessing a well-rehearsed plan of the consistent discrediting of the Russian Federation and its chief.
Excessive number of calculated coincidences? You don't say...

Vladimir Putin himself reacted:

It is a pity that tragic events like death have been used for political provocations.
Those who did it [concocted the note] are not God, and Mr. Litvinenko is unfortunately not Lazarus.
Well, that makes you safe and sound. Not that anything would have changed.

I can't believe he can get away with statements like that. Someone, please, throw eggs at his house.

Follow Your Heart

I got pretty depressed about my album, and caught up in all the negative bits - the parts where the vocals are out of tune, the parts where the timing is off, the bad recording quality. In fact I almost threw away my remaining copies.
Today though, Ben and Dave were both really positive about it which was really encouraging. It made me realise the bigger picture, and when I listened to the CD again I realised how pleased with it I actually am. So I actually have ten copies or so spare if anyone wants 'em...

I Hate Being Me

OK that sounds a little OTT. What I mean is, I hate being selfish. We all do it, I know (yes, *I know*). I hate how sometimes, when I'm tired or a little grumpy, I just don't have time for some people. How I can't always be patient, or self-sacrificing. I mean, in all honesty I want to. People must really hate me sometimes.

ProtegePlan Fanz

seems like we've got some fanz, in the unlikely form of a young photographer and her m8s, lol

seriously, if you want to become a protegeplanfan then all you gotta do is hit our myspace page and write something like "you're kewl"





and i'll be like "wht-vr.blogspot.com" and then spam you
it's an interesting process, but it works for us...

Good Enough? (end)

I thought that Good Enough? needed a bit of a lift, so the ProtegePlan version now features an "end" section. This has a similar tune to the chorus, over the same chords, but at double speed. I sang it at the Louisiana gig for the first time. It ends the song on a winning note, if you know what I mean - focusing on the chorus voice ("don't let them knock you down") rather than the verse voice ("i guess we're not good enough").

look at them, how hard they try
to bring us down, to kill our pride
but you and i will never die
we'll never fall, we only fly
so take my hand and touch the sky
leave them and their lies behind
help me seek until we find
cuz we can see where they're still blind

Acid

Another Look

A lot of stuff has happened recently that's been making me look at my life. Things people have said, events both in the media and in my personal life. Do I take life seriously, or do I just breeze through it knowing that there are more important things to life than life? As always (always, I tell you!) it's a matter of balance. But balance is a very hard thing to achieve when you're a simple seventeen year-old with no direction and no real aspirations apart from those of every single human being ever, deep down: be loved, be happy.

Hey, it could be worse.

So It Ends

Alexander Litvinenko is dead.

I seriously cannot believe that Putin is going to get away with this. OK, there is a small chance that he had nothing to do with it, but that is a *very* small chance. I really thought Litvinenko was gonna pull through, and I'm gutted about his death. I've been following the story quite closely and I'm gonna read into it some more when I get a chance. I might even buy his book.

Balloon-Face

See him? See his eyes? He knows.... he knows.

Convict Colony

This goes out to all the Aussies, and is in feeling with the British spirit at the moment RE: Cricket.
To be honest I don't give a damn, but it's such a good song...

Convict Colony
(To the tune of "Yellow Submarine")
In the town where I was born, there lived a man who was a thief
And he told me of his life, stealing bread and shagging sheep.
So they put him in the nick, and then a magistrate he went to see
He said "put him on a ship, to the convict colony"
You all live in a convict colony, a convict colony, a convict colony
You all live in a convict colony, a convict colony, a convict colony

Aaah

Gig
Four hours sleep
Lessons
Climbing
Cooking for twenty people

Today is the tiredest I've been for a *long* time...

Thank You, B-Bear

This was left on my MySpace with the instruction: "Thou shalt party hardest." Or similar.

Either way, it's good advice.

Over

Here's the press release/public story:

The moment you've all been waiting for - Robin's Morning After post.

*don't offend anyone, don't offend anyone, don't offend anyone...* Aidan wears Communist t-shirts. Damnit! Chris has short hair. Double damnit.

Um. I'm done.

So, the gig. Bear in mind that I got back at twelve a little worse for wear and was still awake at two and then woke up at seven this morning.

The first two bands (Infernal Origin and November Criminals) were full of energy, clearly very talented musicians and well-rehearsed. Compared to the delicate flower that is The Plan, they were heavier than a ton of bricks, but I liked it. The people loved it. While these bands were good, they weren't overly intimidating and it didn't feel like The Plan would be totally outclassed, so I went onstage as confident as a mating lion.
Unfortunately, a combination of miscalculations, helped in part by a miniscule tornado that swept the stage as I turned my back, meant that Things Were Not As They Should Have Been - namely my guitar pedal, which was Off. I didn't notice until it was time for me to kick in the distortion (yes, that's right, "Dirty"). But really, I don't think anyone would have noticed if I hadn't pointed it out.
This little event shattered my confidence like a bucket of lead, but I still think that The Plan pulled through pretty well, under heavy fire and in the darkest night, to shine like a glorious star in the heavens.

So the first two songs lacked vocals, tunings and correct pedals but the People were full of bounce and didn't seem to mind. After that the naughty-naughty guitar stayed in tune and sang mightily (as did I) and I think we held our freshfaced, naive Own to the end. Like I said, we are Legends.

OK Seriously now, thank you to the other bands for being nice to us, we had fun.

Not entirely true, but worded with the Public in mind. Seriously, I thought we played OK but not nearly our best (to be expected, perhaps). I could've been more critical of us in that little summary, but one lesson I've learned very quickly in the last two days is, as Stew said, "[make sure you're not] saying anything that sounds modest / humble / self critical... as it suddenly make people lose confidence in what they are watching / hearing."
But yeah, we played ok and people were positive which was really encouraging.

I recieved a lot of very helpful feedback from Stew Ford amongst others, and I definitely learned a few important lessons (the one above being a major). And that's all part of the process. Next time will be better, but there will still be things to learn... And so it goes.

As for the other bands, I enjoyed a lot of the November Criminals' stuff - unfortunately their last few songs were fairly weak. The metal band were technically good but *very* samey and not really my thang. As for the headline band... guess who bailed before they even started playing? No idea what they were like, truth told, but their soundcheck was good.

The rest of the night became quite an adventure. We hung out in the pub afterwards - Guy and a bunch of my housemates - and then went on a mad dash around Bristol in the van after some miscommunication (no detail required, trust me on this one) and nearly picked up a homeless guy by mistake. It was very exciting - beeping the horn at random strangers in the dark in the pouring rain, seeking out the Bannana Bridge, aware that I'd had a very fast pint in the last fifteen minutes but very little food in the last twelve hours, and feeling generally at peace with the world.

Bliss.

Laser

One More Time, For The Record Books

Tonight

The Louisiana (Wapping Road, near the mini-roundabout)

Doors at 8pm

ProtegePlan on at around 9.30/10pm - first proper gig

£5 entry or £4 with a flyer

We'd love to see you there

*slow wink*

"Don't Go Down There"

Pure, Unadulterated Genius from TriggerHappyTV. Only a couple of seconds long...

More on Alexander Litvinenko

My post below may have come across as a little one-sided, perhaps a tad biased?
I don't know a whole lot about Litvinenko other than he's an ex-KGB pro-human rights kinda guy. But I do know that Putin and his government are a bunch of liars. I could back this up with evidence, but I don't need to. There are *more than enough* incidents from the last eight years where Putin and co. have blatantly lied and gotten away with it. Why? America doesn't give a damn, and no European country is big enough to do anything about it.

The fact that they are lying is just emphasized by statements from the Kremlin saying things like "The idea that we poisoned him is bordering on insane." I mean, seriously: if I was Putin and I hadn't done it I'd say "Sure, the idea crossed my mind, I can totally see why people thought it was us (our reputation for imprisoning/eradicating critics is fairly bad)... but it wasn't."
But seriously, we all know it was them. If not directly, then indirectly. And it won't stop there either...

Damn those Ruskies.

Seriously Now, Who Needs James Bond?

Alexander Litvinenko is our man. In the past I've done a fair bit of reading into the dubious activities of the Russian government, particularly regarding Chechnya. It's quite scary, that this stuff is real and actually going on in the world today. And it is shocking that the Russian government gets away with poisoning and murdering its critics.

Setlist Sneak-Peak

Not that any of you know ProtegePlan songs, but here's a list, just to ruin the surprise. Seriously though, take note and you'll know which songs you liked and which ones you didn't (for the record, the band don't even know the names of half of these)

Setlist for the 22nd

1. Do That Thing
2. Situation
3. Hello
4. Pop Punk
5. Take You Somewhere
6. Good Enough?
7. Feel This

Afterthought

That could have been *three* posts, really.

But you know, it was worth it.

Gonna go eat my words now, I'm hungry...

Actually, speaking of eating words (ie. for breakfast) I'm reminded *of* breakfast, and what a chore it is.
You know, I love food I love any opportunity to eat the damn stuff: the problem with breakfast is deciding *what* to eat, making it and then having time to eat it too. My added problem is that I like a good cup of coffee in the morning, and I just drink while I think (breakfast is like some confused, caffeinated drinking game to me) - on Sunday I got through four cups of coffee in four hours and my head really hurt after.

Breakfast in ADH is usually narrowed down to BREAD, TOAST or CEREAL (there is some sort of etiquette about what you can and can't have for breakfast (vegetables are *right out*) and my body rejects the idea of excess sugar/pie etc etc). Personally, I loathe cereal so it's bread or toast. Or should I say BREAD OR TOAST.

Hot damn, I love breakfast.

It's Been A While

I've decided that I'm an Artiste. By that I mean a jack of if not all then several artistic trades (excluding the traditional colour-on-canvas approach). I'm a musician, a song-writer, a story-teller and a *word artist.* In fact, word-artist probably goes at the top of the list: I play with words both visibly (in terms of spellings, punctuation, case and font etc) and in meaning and interpretation when I write songs, stories and even blog entries. This may sound "pretentious" to some (people who really have no idea what the word means, and who use it as a cheap shot at people who are undeniably cool), to others it may sound foolish or even pathetic. But it's true, and the reason I tell you this is partly because, being an EGOCENTRIC IDIOT and all, I like to talk about myself; also it's because it's been a while since I've written one of those spontaneous tales of woe and wonder and I feel that It Is Time. So prepare for a piece of comic word-art that will dazzle your brains and burn your eyes.

It was a Sunny Sunday morning for Smith who had no name. That is, he was called Smith by those that knew him, but as far as being Named went it had never occurred to him to do so, nor to his parents to do unto him, and neither neighbour nor nanny dared intervene hence he was nameless, and his name was Smith. Occasionally, when excited, he was SMITH!!!!!11!, in times of apathy, depression or even extreme intoxication he was smith (in the latter state he was occasionally smtih, askf, agua, smitty) but mostly, as I have mentioned at least twice, perchance even more if some would consider the fullness of things universal and non-subjective, he was Smith and Smith was not his Name.
Needless to say, Smith was unpopular not simply because of his oddness of name, nor his oddness of manner, nor his oddness of odour, but also because of his third eye. He wore it most often upon his for'ead, although at times it could be found in either hand, the lower regions of his neck or, when times were dire, on his scrotum. Now, this eye was not the eye of a man, nor was it technically a part of Smith's anatomy (although to tell him this would have caused him several minutes of puzzlement and frustration, followed by a lifetime of emptiness cut short by suicide in a lonely Motel bathroom aged forty-three and a half) - however, he wore it with all the confidence of a man with three eyes and it was generally accepted that his vision improved dramatically when the eye was in play. Some even went as far as to compliment Smith on his third eye, and would later regret it when he spent the remainder of their time together staring intently into the distance in what he hoped was a handsome and heroic manner.
Despite the rather intricate, detailed and relatively lengthy introduction I have given to Smith, and though the mention of his unpopularity (as well as his strangeness of name, manner and odour) may be deemed IMPORTANT by some, I must disappoint The Reader by announcing Smith's untimely demise in the form of a Lion. You see, Smith was a Cambodian Midget by descent and had been selected especially as part of the Cambodian Midgets Lion Baiting Team. He, and the forty-one other midgets, were all viciously slain by Jericho the Lion and it is Jericho who will become the main focus of our story for the next little while. The only real significance Smith has, I'm afraid, lies in the fact that his third eye caused Jericho stomach pains for several weeks after the fight and must have contributed somewhat to the foul mood we find him in today, JUNE TWENTY-SIXTH TWO-THOUSAND-AND-SEVEN, JERICHO'S DEN, CAMBODIA.

I was only young, a mere cub in the grand scheme of things, when it came to my attention that I was being goaded into a ring wherein forty-two (no more, no less) midgets in grass skirts were standing in a semi-circle facing me and roaring in a mocking and wholly embarassing manner. As I turned away to seek more civillised company they began to jump at me, attempting to bite my neck with their little fangs and turn me into One Of Them. It was at this point that I realised any escape attempt, bargain plea, beg for mercy or Plan B would inevitably fail so I cut to the point and killed them all (devouring seven, for good measure) with my mighty paw and valiant fang. A crown was placed upon my head, I smiled approvingly, grinned for the cameras, winked for the ladies and then fled the scene before National Association Attempting To Provide Equal Rights For Midgets (NAATPERFM) arrived to berate me and probably further weigh me down with useless propaganda. As a lion, I have no use for such nonsense literature, and as a busy kind of guy I have no time for stupid Midget Associations (or Stupid Midget Associations, which I imagine would be far worse. In fact, the worst of all would be Stupid Obese French Midget Associations because they would look silly, talk silly, sound silly and BE silly, all the while being less than four feet tall). My point is that not only am I a lion, I'm a sizeist, racist, intelligentist (hmm, that one sounds like a good thing) lion and I love every second of it. Mess with me and I'll eat your children.
Well, this dramatic escape o' mine brought me out here to my little lair in the Cambodian Desert which, for the geographers among you, does not actually exist. I sit here in the sun, waiting for exciting things to happen. Not many do, but you'd be surprised at what fate throws your way when you're a Pro Midget-fighter lion living in a little lair in the Cambodian Desert which doesn't actually exist. I'd go so far as to say, you should give it a try sometime. I sure did.

So I'm out here in the desert, with my lion pals, and I'm living the high life. But suddenly everything starts to slip, I feel like I've swallowed a glass eyeball, my friends leave me for Ted the Tiger and even the desert decides it doesn't exist. The most depressing moment of my life? Probably when I found out my mother was a squirrel, but this came pretty damn close. I think I'll take a break in my narrative to tell you guys about me.
TWENTY QUESTIONS WITH "THE LION"
1) Name?
No
2) Age?
No
3) Kids?
No
4) Crush?
No
5) Food?
Cambodian midgets
6) Drink?
Orange squash
7) Drugs?
No
8) Sex?
Once a year
9) Last dream?
I was in a big, glass room with Lloyd-George and Clemenceau and we were talking about how Tuna sandwhiches are nothing compared to cheese and pickle, and then I realised that I was Woodrow Wilson and I was meant to be negotiating some sort of "New Deal." Of course, I had paws and everything which I'm pretty sure Wilson didn't, but you never can tell with these Americans. Anyway, I got up to demonstrate the size of an atom relative to one of my testicles (we'd moved on from Tuna by this point, as you may have deduced) and when I looked in the mirror I saw that I was Brandon Flowers, sporting a Mercury-esque moustache and wearing the gayest pyjamas I have ever seen. I was so ashamed that I woke up immediately.
10) Hopes?
No
11) Fears?
No
12) Most exciting hour ever spent with a beachball?
It's funny you should ask that, because I once spent fifty-nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds bouncing a beachball from my head to my tail and then flicking it back to my head with my tail, whilst whistling "The Star-Spangled Banner" (in G major) and watching "Fifty First Dates." The movie was rubbish but Drew Barrymore is gorgeous and I got to fantasize about eating Adam Sandler alive (not in a sexual way, but in a manner intended to cause maximum pain and discomfort to the victim).
13) Hometown?
No
14) Favourite Country?
No
15) Sport?
As a professional Cambodian-Midget Fighter I rarely have time for other sports. However, I have been seen on the golf course from time to time (eating Cambodian midgets, and badgers)
16) Drugs?
No
17) Drugs?
Oh, alright then. Steroids, once. When I was young, it's all behind me now.
18) Drugs?
OK, I sell crack-cocaine to young children in the park for money they've stolen from their parents. But I never touch the stuff myself.
19) Underwear?
I'm a lion, for crying out loud
20) Who would you like to send this back?
Well, seeing as a) I'm a lion, b) my friends have all left me to partay with Ted the Tiger and Larry the Liger and c) I haven't sent this to anyone and never intend to, I'd say Sally the Cuckoo, Martha in Idon'treallygiveadamn Land and any Cambodian Midget that's feeling lucky. Just bring it on.

Welcome back to my narrative, I hope you've learned a little more about me and that as a consequence you will maybe be my friend, take me out for a coffee, maybe even doughnuts (Dunkin'Doughnuts are great, they should really get them over in the UK) and a cigar? Perhaps just write me every so often - but don't expect me to write back, I'm a lion for crying out loud.
Well, I will now relate my little adventure after my victory over the Cambodian Midgets, up to today whereabouts I will soon be an internet phenomenon and indeed a minor celebrity.

Shortly after the desertion in the desert, I was able to acquire a jeep. I thought it appropriate for me to take a holiday of sorts, touring the local area and aggravating vegetarians by eating raw, freshly-killed meat in front of them. This is one of my pet hobbies and is particularly enjoyable as the majority of vegetarians are both stubborn and self-righteous - thence, easily angered. Of course, there are some poor, innocent, meek souls out there too who are simply repulsed by the whole thing but they deserve to suffer for their timidity. Either way, I feel no guilt about slaughtering and devouring innocent animals in front of herbivores.
It was this in this activity that I partook until I met one particular vegetarian, a computer-geek and writer called Mark, who bought my story for twenty US dollars plus as many midgets as I could eat. He wrote me up to be a Champion, defying the claims of the stupid Midget Association, and is now in the process of propelling me to greatness. It's a shame that he's a nerd, but some things just turn out that way.
Anyway, you may notice that this is neither a particularly eventful or dramatic adventure - I could, of course, relate the finer details of my veggiebugging pursuits, or of my initial and subsequent encounters with Mark, but to be honest I'd sooner go and think about my greatness-to-be and fight midgets. After all, why give up on what you do best? Well, regardless of the quality of the content of my tale it cannot be denied the presentation was Mighty and Glorious - some would say incomparable - and definitely something to show the kids. So, until you see my smile beaming at you from your desktop, or until I steal your children for breakfast, have yourself a good time...
Jericho

I Hate Technology

And technology hates me.

Internet, he no work so good.

Mobile phone, he tell me I send a text massage and then it not been send so i do again and then it been send twice. He tell me wrong.

Boiler, I tell him "make warm" and he make cold. Boiler, him not so nice. Hi five!

Message

Third Sunday service, a subject of much "controversy" among church (and vegetarians, but that's a story for another night) and although I struggled with many aspects of yesterday's service it was refreshing to hear that talk about Peace.
Basically I was reminded of the real meaning behind Christianity. People often see it as a condemning religion - I myself make jokes about people going to hell etc. - but in reality that is the complete opposite. The whole point about Christianity is that it is a saving faith, not a damning one. It is the only religion where nothing is required of you, the work has been done. All that you've got to do is to accept.

One of my (many) styles of humour is to say things I don't mean (eg. "All people-group X should be shot/burned/hanged in the streets"), and it's funny because I don't mean it, teehee. I do this with religion too. But in all honesty I don't believe that anyone out there is "going to hell" - I don't even believe in the conventional, literal "hell" of ye olden times. I do believe that all evil will one day be removed from the world, and that anyone who "chooses evil" at the end will go... aw, I don't know. I genuinely believe that every human has some good in them, and I believe that God wants every human to spend eternity with him so I believe that somehow it's all gonna work out. And that's the long and short of it. I say this knowing that probably 90.5% of readers will skip over this post but it's important for me that people understand: so many people have no idea what it means to be a Christian, and miss out on what it means to be at peace - to be totally free.

GROWN

Blog First, Think Later

I might get that on a t-shirt too.

It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do - everything seems to matter less in the mornings, and the little things that bugged you last night seem kinda petty in the grander scale of things. Of course, you also feel like a bit of an idiot for writing so many stupid things online for all the world to see, but hey - that doesn't matter either right?
Well, I certainly write some pretty dumb things on this blog, and some pretty profound things too - I think that a good balance helps to keep my readers guessing. Which is why I never delete old posts.

Speaking of old posts, my two-year anniversary is coming up.

T-Shirt

I'm gonna get a t-shirt:

Robin Mitchell - fighting all the wrong battles

It would go down well. Especially in pink. With a little photoshopped Che Guervara in the corner, only it's actually John Lennon in a dress.

Other Question Of The Day:

Do you ever get the feeling that life is just one big slap in the face after another?

Question Of The Day (or is it?):

Could all "annonymous" people please just sign a damn name? I want to know who's being serious, who's kidding, who means what. It means a lot to me...

People

People are very taxing. I KNOW nobody's perfect, and I also know that everyone has some sort of conscience as a guide. You can tell when you're bugging someone. You know when you've crossed the line.

Many people deny it, to others, to themselves. One thing I pride myself in is that I am fully aware of how annoying I am being (doesn't make me stop, of course). But not only are people annoying, they're attractive. The more people you are around, the more you realise how much you need people. Isn't it funny how you can be in a crowded room of a hundred people who think and feel the same way you do, but be totally lonely?

O RLY?

Isn't it sad that Microsoft Word is a better image editor than Paint?

Well, I guess it ain't surprising.

[edit] You know, I'm thinking of putting this picture into every post, as part of a signature thing. Or creating a .gif where my head flashes up the owl's eyes, and then the owl gets hit by a truck and the word "pwnd" appears on the screen. Then it flashes up the words "Never mess with The Mighty Robin Mitchell," and then there's an animation of me doing a sort of victory dance, dressed in a black cape with red hair and a red lightsaber.
You know, I think I should be some sort of certified genius.

Question Of The Day:

Are all phobias and prejudices a natural part of one's character, or are they built up by thought patterns and influences?

Fire Is Fun

Egotistical Idiot

Anonymous said...
Better question:

Are you an egotistical idiot?

Seems evident to me.

Man, I still can't believe someone called me an egotistical idiot and I don't know who it is.
The person that springs to mind first is Finn, because it has that well-worded and amusing but slightly mean tone to it. But Finn always leaves his name. Barrie would call me egotistical, and possibly an idiot (probably something stronger), but he also signs: plus, "Seems evident to me" isn't a Barrie phrase.
It's unlikely to be a family-member or housemate (who wouldn't use the word "idiot"), the exception being one of my parents... hmmm...
Of course, it could be totally genuine and I either have enemies or "haters" in which case, should I fear for my life? Does the fact that I'm puzzling about this PROVE that I'm an egotistical idiot or what? It really does. Come on, I'm laughing in my chair here. I don't know why the chair is relevant but without it that sentence lacks something.

So anyway, I don't deny that I'm an idiot, and I suppose I am rather self-absorbed - though I don't think egotistical would be the right word. However, one thing I must say is that I have no idea where this is going. It could go anywhere. Station 391, Birmingham, Japan. Choo-choo.

...and just to totally outclass me...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zecp_wj_FtM

very funny

Mansion

Filmed on Halloween, cut by Barrie, recut by myself, cut again for YouTube and now here for the world to see...

DISCLAIMER: This film does take "bad" to whole new levels. This is (partially) intentional. This film is a spoof.
Contains mild swearwords and violence. Also contains very bad acting.

captivated

written a few days ago... either it's really good, or it's something david brent would write. i can't make up my mind...

you take over control of me
every time i hear you speak
empty lessons never teach
only lead to disbelief
i never learned the way to breathe
i just rely on you to lead
never learned to write or read
i just follow, you just lead

i let you in again this time
couldn't even stand to fight
take it all, take your time
lead me on, mile by mile
something glistened in your eye
felt it pulling deep inside
driving all my instincts wild
i let you in to live my life

i let you lie here at my side
feels a lot like suicide
once bitten, twice shy
said i'd never do it twice
take my heart and reach inside
twist my mind, bleed me dry
taking over, set your sights
this broken life no longer mine

Question Of The Day:

Is Dubya back on the booze?

Hello

The people I live with and the place I live means a lot to me. I've always wanted to keep some sort of collection of events, or description of everyday happenings about ADH. I think that soon I will start a new weblog, an occasional one (quality not quantity, aha) about my home life. That will be exciting.
Why did I tell you that? No idea. Quantity not quality, chaps!
TWSS! Hi5!

FREDDY THE BLOB

Question Of The Day:

What did she say?

Borat II

I was intrigued about the filming of Borat, and so did some investigation (not just on Wikipedia, honest). Turns out they are all real: the frat' boys, the rodeo audience, the dinner-party guys... all of it. Some things are manipulated, though (and yes, the Pamela Anderson scene is staged but it is actually her - "Anderson is a good friend of Cohen").

As for the irony of it all, it's better than you think - Borat is actually speaking Hebrew when he speaks "Khazakstani". And half the time he's insulting the Jews while doing it. I mean, that is genius in a very special way.

Smooth Criminal

Ladies and Gentlemen, in honour of the 16th Birthday of Mr David Joseph Mitchell - brother, roomate and long-time pal to yours truly - I would like to embarass the poor guy with this video of him dancing to Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" a couple of years back. And then being mistreated by his brothers.

Borat

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh

Wuuuuuuh

-




It's a peculiar film. If indeed the footage is genuine, then I have to admit - it's genius: going to the US to give "his country" a perspective of America to learn from etc., and then showing the grim, grimy and just plain messed-up elements of America in full comedic whateveritis.
However, I find it hard to believe that *all* of the footage of "the public" is genuine (eg. the street guys) and that sorta detracts from the genius. Also, some of the unnecessary references to bestiality, rape etc., and the footage of fat naked guys, didn't help the film out in terms of entertainment or making a point.

UnPC, at times rather shocking, sometimes a little too down-to-earth... whatever, I did enjoy it.

meet tombass

Quote Heaven

I recently stumbled across Ed Marshe's quote blog. Having read several quote books and websites, Ed's carefully selected... um... selection ranks up there with the best and features some absolute classics: definitely worth a read.

Singing

History class always takes learning to a new level, but *never* have I heard a teacher sing outside of the music dept, and never for more than ten seconds at a time. Mr Michael Slattery, rider of motorbikes, teller of tales and teacher of immense status and... er... personality, took it upon himself to sing part of a Tridentine Mass (in Latin) to our class. Talk about a comprehensive learning experience! He sang for about two minutes, surprisingly well, and then carried on where he'd left off dictating notes. There was no awkwardness, no embarassment... he just did the deed and then carried on as if nothing had happened.
Surreal.

Question Of The Day:

What goes up must come down?

Last Chance!

On the evening of the 15th of November I will remove Good Enough? from my MySpace and it will no longer be available to download. So if you're interested, or know someone who might be, why not just download it?

Just wait for the music window to load, click download for each of the songs (they're MP3s) and save them to your hard-drive.

Desire

"Desire" is one of Bob Dylan's albums (for those of you that didn't know), it was the album that got me into Dylan five years ago and it is a brilliant album.
It is also a cause of much frustration for me.
"Desire" is highly acclaimed, and many people out there have a copy. However, few of them ever make it past the first track "Hurricane," a thundering nine-minute song about boxer Reuben Carter and racial injustice in America. Don't get me wrong, "Hurricane" is brilliant, but when people try to talk to you about Dylan and it turns out they've only listened to one song it's very frustrating. I mean, "Desire" is not one great song, it's nine great songs! Why not get over the fact that Dylan writes ten-minute ballads and give them a run for the money?

This is a challenge to everyone who has "Desire" and only listens to "Hurricane." My favourites include "One More Cup Of Coffee," "Black Diamond Bay" and most of all "Sara." Sara is the best love song you will ever hear, written for Dylan's ex-wife. Plus, "Sara" is the one song on the album that didn't have collaborated lyrics (I personally felt that the poet guy's influence sorta cheapened the Dylan songs by making them more down-to-earth) - they are Dylan through and through. But if those songs don't appeal to you, others will: there's a brilliant range. Give the other songs a try, they more than match up to "Hurricane." DO IT.

Reflection

It strikes me that over the year 12-13 transition period I have (fully intentionally) embraced the fact that I am not eighteen and taken a rather fun, immature and sometimes a little OTT approach to life. This happened for a number of reasons:
-Defiance towards people who reach 16/17 (or 26) and think they are as wise/mature as wisened adult-folk
-Defiance towards people who take life too seriously
-Rebellion against my reserved, shy and unconfident former self (he's still there somewhere)
-I felt like having a laugh (I've actually developed a high-pitched giggle too for these occasions, which Esther hates)

Now, while it is good to embrace youth, and though I have said before "You only really enjoy immaturity when you start to mature a bit," (and I do believe I enjoy immaturity more than I ever have, at least immaturity the way I do it), there is definitely a line and, as I've been pretty low and introspective recently, I've reflected that I think I've reached the line now and ought to cut back. Sure, the odd funny comment or sevety-five is appropriate sometimes, the odd cackle at someone's serious naivety... but there is also a line.

______ look, there it is, back there <- ___ another one!

Question Of The Day:

Where do Hare Krishnas go when they die?

Robipedia

Question Of The Day: Robipedia has died and to be honest, while it had its moments, most of it was rubbish. My next little phase (besides the train thing, which *will* happen) is to be a Question Of The Day or so. Feel free to debate the answer as much as you like. Don't expect any sympathy if your views are *ahem* "flamed" by the "haters."

Losing My Religion

Since its release and propulsion to fame, "Losing My Religion" has become REM's most popular song. While many people will argue that it is by no means their best, there is definitely something about the song that reaches out - the wonderful chord harmonies perhaps, the simple melody, maybe even the banjo? To my religion-hating friend Mr Dignan, the reason is no doubt obvious.
I heard the song today, and I was thinking about it... what do I like so much about it? It's an all-round brilliant song, but if I had to chose one thing it would be the line "I think I thought I saw you try." That brilliant combination of word-play and poetry, and the place it comes in the song, and the note it moves up to, and the harmony change... it's truly a beautiful moment.

Aah, songs :p

Judging!

I don't think you can judge a person's character very easily at all. I know that people say you form first opinions within 90 seconds or whatever, but seriously - I know how I behave and how I feel are two very different things. Even how I write - I'm honest, true, but sometimes I just write silly things. Pathetic things. Basically, don't judge me by what you read here - that's not what I wanted to say though.
I was gonna talk about other people for once. See, some people I hang out with can be really immature at times, but even though it really bugs me I'm damn sure that that's not all there is to them. Like I know if you caught me in a certain mood you could form a lot of judgements that I know right now would not be true, but they might be justified.
I guess I'd like to extend this as a warning - if we don't want people to judge us but we only behave in a certain way then... well, what else are they gonna do?

Sometimes It's Better Not To Talk

I think that I talked (/wrote) for myself today when I did yesterday's posts. I have nothing more to say.

'nother present

A Brilliant Idea

Our house is gradually going green (not literally, idiot) and we had a green talk today about global warming and what we can do. The subject ebbed and flowed like a gently rising tide and at one point - when we were discussing complacency and people who don't think they can make a difference/don't really care - I was struck by a brilliant idea.

OK it's not actually that brilliant, and was only really at all relevant or funny in the conversation we were having but I like it so much I'm gonna write it anyway. Here goes:
For all the people out there who say "it's not my problem, I'll be dead by then," we freeze 'em and freeze 'em good! When global warming has reached its peak, you unthaw them/resuscitate them or whatever it is you do and then do the old "Ah, whose problem is it NOW? NOW where's your fossil fuels, moron?"
That would show 'em

Song People

You know what bugs me? That there are song people in the world. People who will buy (or worse, download) an album for one song and only listen to that song. Seriously now, if there's only one good song on an album then it should NEVER be released. It's such a shame when bands release second-rate albums because they don't have the creative energy to just slightly improve a few bad songs. Why, just yesterday I transformed two of my mediocre songs into blindingly good ones, and you *will* love them. It's taken me a while, but I wouldn't perform them to anyone as they had been - only now am I satisfied. I wish bands would be more selective with material.

Of course, often the bands *do* release all-star albums and it's just that the "fans" can never be bothered to give the album a real listen. All's it takes is a couple of hours, probably the amount of time it took you to earn the money to buy the CD in the first place. And seriously now, it will be worth it.
A weird thing happened to me while I was writing this post, so I'm gonna stop now.

New Scarf!

What in says in the title, like.

Turns out I lost last year's one... so I got a luverly new one what is all grey and trampish, like.

Does anyone sense a mildly pathetic theme to the content of my posts today?

ProtegePlan

It is my pleasure to assure you a number of things:
1 - Protégé Plan, as they were once known, are now ProtegePlan.
2 - ProtegePlan are totally ready to rock several types of excrement out of *everyone* (in style, too)
3 - The date for the Loui gig is indeed the 22nd - a WEDNESDAY, not a Tuesday as the flyer says.
4 - My ears were *this close* to bleeding after today's practice, and I have no lungs

Thank you, it's been a pleasure

After-Afterthought

The good news is...

I'M STILL ALIVE!!! w00T!

Ah, The Joys

The really, really great thing about writing online is that people can *read* it. I'm always fairly cautious about what I write and to be honest a lot of the time I start writing, think "I don't want people to know *that*!" and stop. Well, once. Anyway, point is, it's even worse when your *family* read it cuz they know everything.
In conclusion I can't post dreamy posts or anything related to my love life, friendships or anyone my parents might approach in the street any more.

Not that I have one, which is another thing I can't post about even if I'd like to.
Ok, I've lost myself now. Point is, the really, really great thing about teenagers is that you can't tell if they're fourteen, eighteen or thirty-six. What a nuisance.

A Present

Afterthought

I feel I should add (and I say this in all serious - I could crash my car this evening and that would be it) that should I be that guy on life-support, and if someone has to make the decision, use this and save yourselves some effort:

-If by switching me off you can save someone's life, do it
-If by switching me off you will save taxpayers' *money*, keep me running 'til they're broke and then some. Serve 'em right, too

Worth

What's a life worth?
Everywhere, human lives are given different values. I watch movies where the good guys get a few tears but a thousand bad guys can die and no-one cares. I watch movies where the *good* guys die and no-one cares... or even notices the difference. We all laugh at death - there are comical books written about people dying in stupid ways. I make jokes about death all the time.

The truth is, I just can't tell the difference any more. What is a life worth? I mean, I believe that there is life after death, for all of us. So is death that big a deal? I don't know about you, but I quite like my life. I love how exciting humans really are, I love how amazing our world is, I love the fact that when we talk things out and think things through they get better... I've got a lot to experience in life. I don't want to die. If eternal life is the big deal, how much of a deal is this one?

Seriously, one person dies and you can smile about it, another dies and the nation will mourn. One guy kills a thousand people, and some people out there believe that if the killer is killed then justice is served. So that guy is worth a thousand lives now? Are our lives really worth the same? What about the disabled, the young, the old?

My belief is this: all human life is invaluable. The guy on life-support, the multi-millionaire, the tramp who is hooked on cheap smack, the girl in a vegetative state after her car crash, me. We're all worth the same. This isn't an attack on abortion or euthenasia or anything, I'm just trying to clear it up in my head. You know, today I heard four death stories: a guy my dad knew murdered someone about fifteen years ago. In Lost a person dies (without giving anything away). In the news another soldier has died in Iraq, and in the fourth story three guys are in heaven discussing how they died. These four "events" all gained totally different responses to the deaths involved - is that accurate? I'm gonna say, judging by my conclusion above, "no." I think I've run myself into a corner here, so I'll stop the flow. I guess in a world where the "Every man for himself" attitude is so prevalent, it does you a hellofa lot of good to realise the value of the people around you at times. What will it cost when one of them dies?

Coming Soon To This Yur Blog

Some "projects" have taken off (Life Story, Zebra, House of Dreams, Goldfish)... others have died, some before even starting (Save The Wales campaign, Day Photos) - and often for good reason. But coming to this blog, soon, as inspired by Mr Daniel Ghali's love of Thomas the Tank-Engine (and my own similar love as a child of four)... The Train, an occsaional story about... yes... TRAINS!

w00t (or should I say "toot"(toot)).

Hell's Angels

30 minutes 6 seconds. That's how long it took me to persuade Aidan that I wasn't gonna do the Hell's Angels gig (it is, for the record, at The Packhorse, a bar owned by the leader of the Bristol Hell's Angels chapter).
It's not easy! I want to do the gig for the following reasons: experience, fun, experience. I don't want to do it for the following reasons: stress, house meal, hell's angels, transport issues, being in a rush, no sound-check time, no info. I know I need to be spontaneous at times but I like to know a lot about something before I commit to it, and I know nothing about this gig. The cons, as you can see, outweight the pros. But still there are pros, and still Aidan is very good at talking. He could persuade most people to do most things, and if I wasn't as stubborn as him I would have agreed to do it. The thing is, he provided a whole bunch of reasons for me to do it but the simple fact of the matter is, I don't want to. I don't know what it is, I'm very excited about playing the Loui, I'd happily have done the gig at the Hatchett... I just don't want to do this gig. Plus I asked Old Man Dave(my source of all quick answers) and he said not sure. I like to be sure.
Still, half an hour of persuasion is very painful, even on the phone. I hate disappointing people, particularly if it's my band. And I couldn't bring myself to make up lame excuses.

Some Things Just Aren't Worth Writing About

'nuf said

:D

Last-Minute Gigs

The joy.
Got a call from Aidan yesterday during poker asking if we'd play (I quote) "Some Hell's Angels bar" on Saturday at 10. It turned out it isn't actually a Hell's Angels bar. Anyway, I'm pretty bad at spontaneity but a gig is a gig and this is indeed a gig so I said yes.
I may regret it.

Also today I found a request on our MySpace to fill a gap at The Hatchett, which (forgive me if I'm wrong) is that pub near the ice rink in Bristol's gay quarter. It seemed like a nice place, getting to and from would be the trickier bit. So we might be doing that too.

Anyway, the bad news is that with last-minute gigs you can hardly promote yourself, and probably no-one really wants you to be there anyway. Meh. If I find out more about the Hell's Angels one I'll let you know.

This Post Goes Out To Joey Mitchell

You just know that I'm

Back on form, back on form, back on form
Back on form, back on form, back on foorrrm

w00t



Jack Barrie, lady. Timmy, I've got nothing to say to you.
The rest of you, hi. Have a nice morning. Aaah, it ain't even nine a.m.

Memory Loss

The joy of blogging. You think, you forget, you remember when it's no longer necessary or relevant.

Ah well.

So anyway, it's amazing what a good quality recording you can get when you *have* to.... I'm half way thru redoing "(Another) Beautiful Day" for my Music Tech composition. Sounds gurt lovely, too...

A Wise Man's Guide to Religious Experience

by Robin the Definite Philosopher.com

Religious experience is what happens when religious people experience stuff. Like steel, or butterflies, or strong winds on the M32. These people are made more experienced by their religion, which is quite phenomenal really. If I was religious I would experience things at twice the speed, making me both agile and fluent in several different skillz. However, some people don't believe in religious experience. Clearly, they've never been to Church! I went there once and my eyes are still sore. People that don't Believe are called Atheists. They are generally unpopular and surrounded by a foul stench of heresy. May God have mercy on their souls, forever and ever, Amen.

RE: The Alcohol Post

Okay, I've been thinking about that post and really, I didn't mean much of that. What I was trying to say, in a basic, chilled-out way, was: I wish everyone didn't take it so seriously. That's the long and short of it. People are all "this, that and t'other," and I'm all "bothered." Just don't take it too seriously. If you don't want to serve me alcohol, cuz you don't want to get fined, that's fine. Awesome, I'd say. But otherwise, just cool out about it.

I think I can safely say, I'm going to bed now : )

...

i too have creative license

:)

Gimme A Break!

I spent FOUR HOURS (4 hrs, four hours, FOURHOURSFOURHOURSFOURHOURSFOURHOURS
FOURHOURSFOURHOURSFOURHOURSFOURHOURSFOURHOURS) doing a 500 WORD ESSAY. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAh!

This is what frustrates me about A levels. I did this last year. I went through it all, the mental torture, the struggle, the FRUSTRATION... and I got my grades. Great! So why do I have to do it all over again?! WHY!? Somebody explain to me plz plz plz.

The education system is damaging my brain.

Robipedia

Alan Partridge: Alan Partridge is *very* funny. I was reminded of that today when "Sunday Bloody Sunday" came on, and Ben Smith quoted "'Sunday Bloody Sunday'. What a great song. It really encapsulates the frustration of a Sunday, doesn't it? You wake up in the morning, you've got to read all the Sunday papers, the kids are running round, you've got to mow the lawn, wash the car, and you think "Sunday, bloody Sunday!""
However funny Alan is though, it depresses the hell out of me. There's something about his attitude, his lifestyle, the horrible drudgery he's stuck in and can't get out of because he's essentially an idiot... it just makes me feel kinda sick.

Oh, Life's Sweet Ironies

ho hum, ho hum, ho hum

you know, people on MySpace shouldn't take me seriously. i've had some worrying responses to that fireworks poem...

in fact, people generally shouldn't take me seriously. i got glared at by about everyone in history for walking out of the classroom singing "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" in falsetto.

My Other Firework Poem (A Warning)

Fireworks are loud
Fireworks are proud
Fireworks can kill
Or make people ill
Fireworks explode
And make lots of noise
Fireworks can kill
So beware, girls and boys

(a short poem (by me) (Robin Mitchell))

if you think fireworks should be handled with care, please spread this message

Acoustic Medley

I've been working on an acoustic medley of nice acoustic love-songs, mostly.
Here is the finished thing, as far as I'm aware (I do it in F - usually I use one verse or chorus (or both) of mentioned song)

I Will Follow You Into The Dark
First Day Of My Life
The Scientist
PIL
Street Spirit (Fade Out)
Volcano
Good Enough?
First Day Of My Life
Hallelujah
Fake Plastic Trees
Into The Dark

So, if you need an acoustic entertainer/support act and you like these songs, call me!

Christmas Cards

With the approach of Christmas, many people find it necessary to buy lots of cards and give them to people.
I've decided to go into the Christmas Card business myself - I will provide an online service. Simply print off the picture below and send me a cheque in the post (£1.25 per card or £50 for a bulk order of 50). Then write a little personalised message below each picture and send it to all your loved ones. Aww.

from the House of Dreams

I wrote a poem that I liked so I thought I'd share it:

"death by firework"

burning flowers in the sky
and pretty sparks that catch my eye
fireflies and moonbeams
burning with the stuff of dreams
it only takes a second
it seems to last forever

aiming far, aiming high
rockets burning as they fly
captivate and hypnotise
lighting up november skies
it only takes a second
but it can change forever

racing wide, shooting low
reflexes are just too slow
one moment of roaring pain
brings us down to earth again
it only took a second
but it will last forever

red and blue, flashing light
running footsteps in the night
life support and blood loss
every pleasure has its cost
it only takes a second

One More Thing

I know I never express football sentiments on my blog (except during world cup, *obviously*) but I think that as a Spurs Fan, deep inside, I should say

2-1, 2-1, 2-1 !!!! ch3ls34 pwnd! lulz!!!

And Once Again...

I realise how futile our efforts to be somebody are. Hmm.

Princeton performed b-e-a-utifully in church today, at volume 1 and a bit. I look forward to our next gig.

It's just struck me, by the sound of fireworks outside, that it is Fireworks Night tonight. Despite all the dangers, complications, silliness etc. associated with holidays/special days, I really think they are worth having. They bring out the best in people, as well as the worst. Besides, it's a beautiful night and everyone should be outside (ahaha). Despite my appreciation of "special days" I have done to recognise towards Fireworks Night and didn't even acknowledge it was today until this morning. Well, maybe I'll go sit under the stars for a while... once I've had something to eat

Drink, ARrrR

The "drink" issue really irks me.

Do you know the number of times people have questioned me (often jokingly, I'll admit, but not always) for drinking alcohol?

It is totally legal for anyone over the age of five to drink alcohol at home/on private property. Anyone over the age of fourteen may drink alcohol in a restaurant/bar (depending on the policy of the venue). Anyone over 16 MAY BUY ALCOHOL (with a meal). The only thing it is illegal for under-18s to do with alcohol is buy it in a pub or store. They can even steal it, for crying out loud.

I drink because I enjoy a variety of alcoholic drinks. I rarely have more than one or two drinks at a time anyway. It bugs me *immensely* when people question me for drinking, not as a matter of pride or status but because I too have a right to drink like every other human being.

Sort your facts out >_<

Don't Kill Saddam

Barrie tells me that Saddam's sentence is death by hanging. I say, a) don't do it and b) if anyone finds anything about how to stop it (short of bombing the hell out of Iraq again) let me know.

(I'd link BBC but Wikipedia is more interesting)

I have a lot to say about this issue but right now I'm dead tired, dead hungry and I'm not even gonna do any work so there's no way I'm writing more than this much

robin got owned

Robipedia

People: People are silly

Busy Saturday

Got 'nuff on today: started with house breakfast, now band practice, then straight on to a wedding I know nuffing about. I thought I'd be there for an hour or two but turns out it might be the whole evening...

gyarh

The wonders of the Fender Dyna-Touch III Princeton 650

clean

and.. ahem... *dirty*

Aaah, Sweet Humanity

I love how we're made. I mean, we're useless half the time and cruel the other half, but somehow, deep inside, we just *know.* I suppose "know" is the wrong word to use, because we can't explain what it is we know - we *feel*. I drift, all over the place, but at the end of it all I know who I am and who I should be and it's a nice feeling. I guess...

this was going somewhere but I can't remember where. Suffice to say that I'm happy being me despite my imperfections, and I know that even though I get tired, apathetic and arrogant, the Robin Mitchell rooted inside knows that he is worth nothing at all, that life is but a blip in the vastness of eternity and nothing on earth really matters that much - and he is happy about it.

UPS

Clearly I'm not the only one who's had UPS disappointments. Can't pretend my complaint is that serious really...

Amp (ahaha)

Just phoned DV, they dispatched it on time and apparently it's the delivery company who have a problem with their UPS machine meaning I won't get the amp 'til tomorrow.

Which is good because a) I'll get it b) I'll get it soon and c) it's not DV's fault (I'd hate to have them disappoint me after all their good work). However...

...it's late.

Hey, it's only an amp right?

Meh

Amp not come. This depresses me immensely as it's the most amount of money I've ever spent in one go. Sure, it'll show up tomorrow or in a few days time but when you're promised next-day delivery you expect it, right?
Or not.

Furthermore, blogger won't show my blog mainpage at the moment. So I figure maybe by posting some meaningless depressive nonsense it might work itself out, or go and die. I don't know which I'd prefer.

Totally Addicted To Place(bo)

Every so often (HIFH, The Killers, Brand New) I stumble across a band's material all at once and get a little over-absorbed in it. With other bands I graduallly build up a collection over time, or discover them song at a time. With Placebo I have come across a large stash (2-3 albums worth) of songs that I absolutely love and as such (to the disappointment of roomie J-man) I am doing a little bit of Placebo overkill.

It's interesting that the music I've been writing for Protege Plan is very Placebo-esque, despite the fact that I have only just discovered Placebo. Maybe that's why I like them so much...

Movie

Made a movie yesters as part of Halloween roundup.

I like to think of myself and Mr Bear as the driving force, though Tim, Finn, Guy and Patrick were all integral to the glorious result that was, is and is to come. Here, more to the point, because when Barrie has cut it painfully beyond belief it shall be posted, but wait your turn or lose out BIG.

The Plan (side one) looked something like this, but bluer:

Gypsum Fantastic - Timmy
Stan - Patrick
3 Simple Guys - Robin, Barrie, Guy
2 Hoodie Guys - Finn, Timmy
Good Cop - Robin
Bad Cop - Finn
Chief Detective - Guy

This is essentially a list of the cast: however, it is also what the entire plot revolved around. This cinematic wonder was entirely ad-libbed and not without its odd moments.
I await the out-takes with glee, watch this space or keep it in a small container

Robipedia

flaaaaargh: That feeling you get when you're waiting for your amp that should have come already to be delivered but you just *know* it's been taken to Ms Robinson at 16 Cotham Vale again. Joy.

Golf

Played the most amazing game of golf today.

Seriously, haven't played for a year and a half, technique is shocking - got a score so bad I won't even write it on here.

Beautiful weather though : )