The Black Star

A blog dedicated to the series of unfortunate events that always happen around me. Not so much unfortunate, more like funny.. but unfortunate sounds better.

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Saturday, February 04, 2006

Wanderoo

So this is a story of when I came back to Newcastle after Christmas.

I arrive at the airport, and I collect my baggage and all (and I get stopped at customs, have a little chat with the bloke and he lets me off for having too much alcohol) and well, I make my way to the metro (because that is how I'm going home... intriguing).

When I get to the ticket dispenser, I notice that I need change, as the machine will only take coins and I only have notes. So I line up to use the "change machine". There's this Asian lass in front of me, and she seems confused. She asks for help, asks me why she can't get any change. Well, the machine's not working (what? This is the UK, things should work!) so well, in order to get change our best bet is to buy something in one of the shops. So we go back and I get a newspaper and she gets... no clue. So we're back at the ticket dispenser and I get my ticket, and as soon as I'm getting ready to move on, the girl again starts asking me questions (basically, what stop do I go to in order to go to the city centre) and I comply because, well, frankly I have nothing better to do. So she's getting off at the same stop as I am. Oh well. So the 20 mins go by pretty fast, and neither of us get mugged, and then it's time to get off.

So we both grab our baggages and get off. I ask her exactly where she's going and she says "city centre", which isn't her exact destination unless she's planning on sleeping in the streets (I wasn't discarding that possibility at the moment). So once we're out of the station, she looks a bit confused, so I'm going to ask her again where she's going, but I decide to rephrase my question this time: "are you going to the university?" She says she is. So I tell her that Newcastle Uni is right in front of us, crossing the street and Northumbria Uni is walking down the right and then taking a right. She thanks me, but still looks a tad confused.

So, being the good person that I am, ask her in what accommodation she's staying. She says something like The Bridge Hotel (although it wasn't the Bridge Hotel). I don't know where that is, so I tell her that I don't know where it is, but it most likely is somewhere along the rest of the uni accommodations, and I point her in the right direction. She tells me that no, it's to the right. It makes me wonder, because I've never seen a hospitable place on the way to The Gate, but well, I tell her once again that I think it's in the other direction, but once again she rejects my advice and tells me it's on the right. How she knows I've got no clue, because not only did she not know how to get to the city centre, but she didn't know how to get to the university. But, of course, she'll know her way to this obscure place.

I didn't force her any further, I let her be as I didn't want her to think I was a rapist or something. I let her go her way and I went my way. I know I got to my flat safe, but I don't know if she made it to her place alive. There's no way of me knowing, but my guess is that she didn't. Newcastle is one of the safest cities in the UK, but when you see this foreigner walking the streets with a lot of luggage and clearly lost, knowing that they've got some dough on them, they've got to mug her. I mean, I didn't because I'm a half decent person, but I would expect anyone else to.

Anyway, I did feel good at that time (not because someone was on their way to getting mugged or whatever) because I was able to direct someone around Newcastle. It made me feel at home. Sure, she might not be in for the best of experiences, but that's not my fault. Had she followed my advice she would've at least been able to ask someone about where to go. Oh, well, life moves on.

Friday, February 03, 2006

The Devil's Rejects

So I'm starting to worry about myself. And when I start worrying about myself I really start to worry about myself. I mean, really. I've been having these very bad thoughts... perhaps it's because of my proximity to Hell?

So I've always had bad thoughts, but rarely have they taken ahold of me. I've always though about torturing people, including kids, and doing that kind of stuff... but I never would've dared. Now I feel like I just might (not the kids part, though... not yet).

So what do I really really want to do? I want to beat up someone (anyone) with a baseball bat... aluminum if possible. Just beat them and beat them until my body can no longer swing it. I can just feel the power of the bat destroying the bones and the flesh, while the person is in terrible pain, helpless... waiting for the torture to be over. That sounds pretty bad, doesn't it?

That's not all, though. Recently I've added another part to my fantasy. After the brutal beating, I'd like to piss on the person, just to add insult to injury (or piss to corpse, whatever). I'm not sure where this latter part came from, but it was rather recently. I guess that just makes me even more disturbed than anything before.

But well, I know that I won't be doing that anytime soon because I'm in England and we don't have baseball bats here. However, if one were to be imported, I don't know what might happen... bloody hell, I am worse than I thought I was.

Btw, the title refers to a horror/thriller/gorefest film I watched some time ago (maybe a month ago?). Pretty good, actually. I recommend it to anyone who'd too disturbed to be disturbed even further, or anyone who's not offended at all (or people that are not grossed out).

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Monkey in the Mirror

So I'd like to congratulate myself for posting 100 times in this blog. This is actually the 101st post, I just noticed, so I'd like to congratulate myself for posting more than 100 times! I really appreciate my work and commitment to the cause, and I'm very proud of myself (feel free to post a comment with the above, just addressing it to me).

Anyway, not much to tell today, woke up late because I went to bed late entertaining a mate of my flatmate's (the guy we went to the gig with). My foot hurts today... I wonder if it was because of the jumping or because of the various times I got stepped on...

I've really tried to beat myself up for not having a camera (yeah, I've tried but I haven't succeeded because I couldn't be arsed to). There have been plenty of times where a picture would've said a million words, and those moment will not come back. Take, for example, a star that was drawn onto the door leading to Hell (if you've read the blog before you'll know what I mean... if not then start reading!). It was meant to be a five point star representing some satanic symbol. However, the person either fucked up, or was ignorant, or just plain racist, and drew the Star of David onto the door. That is perhaps the most racist thing I've seen (but I haven't been to Spain, so I can't say I've seen much), a direct condemnation of Jews to Hell. Tut tut. But funny all the same.

Also, there was a time when I was with Ryan in the kitchen and there were no clean spoons. He wanted to eat his yogurt, but he didn't want to wash any spoons, so he grabbed the only clean spoon, which happend to be this motherfucking big spoon used for cooking (not the wooden one, that would've been classic) and attempted to eat with that. A picture of that could've made it to... erm... some prestigious place. When he finally realized it wouldn't be possible to eat with a spoon of such dimensions, he gave in and threw the yogurt away. Lol, no, he just washed a spoon.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Me(n)tal Riot

So I just want to start off this entry by telling my friend Ercole "I told you so." If you read the last post carefully, you'll see that I told him to expect a stupid email from Tiny... well, I was right, only that it turned out to be a comment instead (maybe he sent an email, I'm not certain, though). I am good... well, didn't take much brains to figure that one out.

Anyway, today I went to a concert. It was a speed metal/thrash metal/some kind of metal (who knows the difference?) gig, and I have no idea how I was persuaded to go, but hey, it was quite an experience. First, at the beginning (aka when the support band was playing) everything was quite normal, you know, what you'd expect (a lot of fuck yeah's from people with very long hair). But as soon as there were signs of the main band (Dragonforce) coming onstage, everything all of a sudden got packed. My flatmate and his mate ask me if I want to follow them into the pit (at least that's what I think I heard) and well, it's my first metal gig so I say yeah, just for the thrill although I have no clue what it is. What I was guessing was that it was the hardcore support thing and some ocassional passing over and stuff. Not too bad. So well, as soon as the music comes on everyone starts to push everyone else about, shove them, jump on them... wrestle them. I'm in awe. What in the fucking hell is going on? Rioting and the thing just started 3 seconds ago. Well, I get pushed around like a bitch, people probably noticing that I'm a rookie, and go from the middle of the place to right in front of the stage to the back of the place and so on. Oh, and don't forget the sides too. So well, for the first song and a half I haven't seen the band at all and I'm just fighting to keep alive (there was a point where I lost my jacket and just swept with one of my feet (my right obviously, I don't have a left foot) and recovered it, and there was another point in time when I was completely knocked over and fell on my arse, where I was stepped on for a while. Good stuff.

I then later (after I made it safely to the back back) that that's what the pit is all about. "Friendly" fighting. Good decision I made, eh? Well, it was great fun, even if it'll hurt a bit tomorrow. The gig goes pretty well, I just get some headaches from time to time (I don't know how people can listen to this stuff constantly).

Then I see that there's a kid, probably aged 16 or around, and he's probably there with his older brother. He tells the kid that he'll lift him up and the rest of the people will carry him to the front. He agrees. So he gets lifted up and lasts about three seconds until he falls on his side. He decides to try again (alright, his brother encourages to try again) and this time he lasts 2 seconds until he falls flat on his head. That was a motherfucking hard hit. People sort of get worried, although in reality they don't really give a shite. But as soon as he gets up (nobody helped him up) and they saw he was crying, everyone burst out in laughter, mocking him for his fagness. Ah, I felt like I belonged there for a minute.

Oh, by the way, remember when I said I stopped drinking? I sort of relapsed while at the gig... but nothing major, just a pint (should've probably chugged down half a litre of vodka!) but well... I guess I can afford one every now and again.

So yeah, that's what I did. Quite an experience. Now that I've got some concert experience (in the most hardcore way) I'll be ready for The Darkness' gig later this month. Ah, yeah, I'll be running the riot in that one...

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Shout at the Devil

So today's been bloody freezing. Not as cold as yesterday, though, when at a point it was -7 degrees (when I left the flat to go to lectures, how convenient is that?), but still in the minuses. I feel I have been lied to. I was told that it rarely goes into the minuses here in Newcastle, and that's two days in a row. Unacceptable. And you know what's even more unacceptable? It hasn't rained, as it if had, then it would be snowing and at least I could be marvelling at something while freezing. But no, not even snowing. Unacceptable I say!

Erc, congratulations on your gf (now expect Tiny to send you a very stupid email). Yes, we keep on with public communication menthods, did you expect any different? I just read your comments on one of the past posts, I was unaware that there were comments until a mate told me that some fag had written a comment where he expressed his love for me (just joking... he called you a bi).

Well, I'm glad that I now have an audience reading my blog (well, at least one outider who doesn't know me). I'm even considering putting ads in my blog to see if some of the outsiders click on them and I can get some ill-earned cash. Yes, I'll sell my soul again, I've done it before and I'll keep on doing it until I run out of souls. But well, I know she only reads it because she's with you and you force her to (you force her, right?)... but I don't mind as long as she clicks on the ads (see, now that idea is off because Google will sue me for promoting the click of ads within my blog).

And what's this thing about a dirty freak? Why would she say something like that? I am a bastard, I admit that, but I do too have feelings sometimes. Doesn't she shower in a state of nakedness? I thought that was a common thing to do...

Anyway, public communication over now. This is the actual blog entry for today. Although I did start on the top but I went off track (surprised?)... whatever, just read on.

I've been angry for the past few days, so I've been trying to listen to angry music (because, you know, that's what you do... you listen to angry music when you're pissed off, that's why you call it "angry music") but I found out that I don't have enough angry music. I have all the classics for angry moments (take for example Break Stuff... perhaps one of the best songs ever to listen when you're really pissed off), but I don't have enough to sustain a week-long marathon. I also found out that I don't have much romantic music (well, not really surprised about that one... I actually have more than I thought I did) and I definitely don't have much happy music (as I told Calabria, a reason why I don't like the Beatles as much as everyone else is because they're happy-jumparound music).

So what do I have? Well, as Calabria put it this Christmas (and many many times before that): depressing music. I beg to differ, but seeing it's not happy, nor angry, nor romantic, then I guess he must be right. Maybe that's why I've got mood swings and all... but then I have to change what I listen to, as this is my last year in my teens, and after this I'll have no excuses for being pissed off for no reason. However, I guess my state of piss-offed-ness might be a direct consequence of the cold. Oh, well, doesn't matter, I don't need an excuse. If Calabria can be depressed for no reason then I can be angry for no reason aswell. Well, for now I'll just listen to Motley Crue and Iron Maiden... Iron Maiden mostly to piss off one of my flatmates.

Here's some news for you people: I've stopped drinking. Yep, I have. And why's that? Well, I'm addicted to biscuits. Not just addicted, but like hardcore addicted. I average a pack of biscuits per day, so I decided to give up drinking in order to fund my addiction to biscuits. Yep, biscuits are my new drugs now.

Well, that's it for today. I'm gonna go keep on listening to the Crue and finish the pack of HobNobs that is lying beside me... half empty because I ate half of it while typing this entry.

Monday, January 30, 2006

Photographic Memory

So today I had lectures for the first time in a while. Not only that, but I had new professors and new locations, so it was like starting uni all over again (only that this time around I knew people... so not quite the same).

I no longer have The Dutch Guy, but instead I have this other guy who seems he can do the job a bit better. Not only does he dislike Windows (he's gonna teach everything in linux, no Windows) but he also detests Internet Explorer. You can tell this guy knows his stuff. At first look, I was skeptical about the guy, he looked more like a crazy bloke than a professor, but when one of my mates told me had studied and taught in both Harvard and Oxford, I decided to open my mind.

I can't say I learnt many new things, but it was only the first lecture. The module has potential, though... we can achieve great things. For now we're focusing on websites, and building them and manipulating them via linux (and changing the write access and all that stuff on the prompt)... if you've got a chance check http://homepages.cs.ncl.ac.uk/james.nicholson .

My other module, which used to be the joke module, has now turned to screw us over. So much bloody work... and we not only have to take notes, but polish them and give them back in for a grade. Great, huh? Not to mention an essay every week. I guess my bumming days are over. Something quite funny happened during this lecture, though. I was busy writing down my notes when the professor says "That's a peculiar way to taking notes... does it work?" I assume that he's just there sitting not doing anything, but when I hear a few chuckles I decide to check it out. What was he doing? He was taking pictures of the slides... and I thought I was a bum.

Next up was my new programming class (well, next up as in 4 hours later). Now we'll get to do some neat stuff, but the lecture being the first "introductory" one and me not having slept for 26 hours at that point, I managed to doze off for quite a while (if I'm right, it must've been around 7 minutes... I'm not sure what the time was when I last saw it, but I'm making an educated guess). When I realized I was dreaming (because of surreal things taking place) I opened my eyes just to see the professor looking at me while she was explaining something (can't really tell you what it was, for obvious reasons). First day and I'm already screwed. I did doze off a few more times, but only seconds on those. I wonder if she caught me... While I was awake, though, I did hear the clicking of the camera, which only means that the answer to the question the previous professor had asked is "definitely."

Insomniacs

So the end of the week has come and with it the end of my week off. I had planned great things for this week, yet none of them materialized and what ended up happening was me playing loads of Football Manager and reacquiring my insomnia. Good stuff, eh?

So yeah, I played loads and loads of Football Manager. I was guiding Newcastle, and I actually made them into a very good club, even if I didn't win anything with them. But I ended 4th and 2nd in the league and got the the finals of both cups on the two seasons. I also did a decent job in the Champions League. But I didn't get to win anything, which really bothered me. However, I was appointed England manger even though England won the World Cup two years earlier. That really bolstered my reputation.

Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that Football Manager brought my flatmates and I together more. How's that? Well, for the exception of two (one of them being the Irish guy who's always away with his girlfriend and the other being the one I've always gotten well along with) we were all addicted to FM. What did we talk about all the time? FM. What did we yell at all the time? FM. Yeah, good times. It was incredible how we'd all just start talking about our games and we'd all get so emotional... oh, what footy can do for you!

I also developed my insomnia even more, going to bed at 6am every day and waking up at 5pm. This meant that I didn't see daylight for most of the week. Seeing the Sun rises at around 8:30ish and it goes away at around 4:30ish I didn't see daylight for four consecutive days, and 7 days overall (I did have a funny sleeping pattern during my finals week aswell).

So well, that's why I'm writing at this time, I can't go to bed because my insomnia is at it's peak. I've been taming it for the past two days, but I guess I didn't do enough. And I've only got FM to blame. I've got to wake up tomorrow at around 8 because I've got a lecture at 9... I'm guessing I'll just stay awake? Dangerous. Did that on the day I had both of my finals and I did fall asleep for a few seconds during my Marketing exam. Yes, yes...

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Piss Alarm

So have you ever heard of a Piss Alarm? Neither have I, but I'm pretty sure there are some out there. And by some I mean one in the uni.

After a pool tourney (of which I was very close to winning, but managed to fuck it up with a relatively easy shot), I'm waking back with my mates and one of them decides he really needs to take a piss. Can he wait? No he can't. Well, we're almost at our flat, we're about 4 minutes away. But he can't hold it for 4 bloody minutes, so he decides to go in an alley in between uni buildings. So we keep on walking very slowly, generally freezing while he's pissing (and probably freezing a very sensible part of his body aswell) and as soon as he's disappeared for five seconds, an alarm goes off in the building (we're still not sure if it was in the actual building or in the street, but it was horrible) so we look at each other and ask ourselves if that's a piss alarm (as there had been a sign I couldn't read, and allegedly it said "no parking", even though I thought it said "no pissing") and start walking away. A few seconds later he comes back, and we tell him he activated the piss alarm, and they probably have his dick and his face on CCTV and they're after him. He then, very seriously, says that the alarm went off as soon as his urine hit the floor. Then we really start to think, as we were all joking about the piss alarm. Could it have been an actual piss alarm? Well, we'll never find out because we got the hell out of there, and made it back to our flats in 2 minutes.

Perhaps it was just somebody breaking into the building... maybe we should've stayed and called someone for help. But well... we're students... you can't expect us to do something useful.