Slang and further nastiness

Skint- broke, low on funds, brassic
Wanker- literally, one who jerks off. Has come to be a general insult.
Berk- short for "Berkshire hunt." You work out the rhyme.
Fantabulosa- Polari for fabulous or extra good
Bona- Polari for good
Gunner- a fan of Arsenal FC, the WORLD'S BEST FOOTBALL TEAM!!!Plusgood- Orwellian newspeak for...plus good
Scarper- Polari/cockney for get out quick or escape, from the italian scapere, to escape
Suss- knowledge or suspicion. I've got the suss-I've got the smarts. He's pretty sussed- he's pretty smart. Suss out the scene- to figure out what is going on. Mod suss- the ability to work out what's happening within moments of entering a room, useful in the used car trade
Mod- a british fashion movement of the late 1960's, associated with Pop art and the model Twiggy
Drag- Polari for clothesVeck- nadsat for man
Droog- nadsat for friend, from the Russian "drug" meaning friend or comrade
Viddy- Nadsat for see (possibly from the latin video, videre, but more likely of Russian origin)
Devotchka- 1) Nadsat and Russian for girl 2) a band
Sod- 1) originally derived from "sodomite", a derogatory term for a homosexual. Has come to mean a lazy useless person. 2) as in Sod off- comparable to the american **** off
....so go away and leave me...

I haven't updated in a long time. This has ceased to have a point, and I may get rid of it. I don't know yet.
Cheers
J

Rabbits and NY City

Went to Kari's for tea and a chat. Met up with her rabbits, both of whom are very cute and fuzzy. Good fun.
Other than that...tomorrow is Valentine's day, or rather National Singles Awareness Day. You shall know us by the gloomy expressions and the "ask me out, I'm charismatic" looks on our faces.
Time to update the cast of characters:
Pirategirl/Sparklie: a piratical viola playing friend
Kari: Bro's GF's sister and friend of mine
Entwistle: Who fan extraoridinaire
Ferdinand: one of those people who can twist the most innocent of phrases into something completely wrong
yeah...
Plus, big news, we are going to NEW YORK!!!!
Yes, all five of us. (me, ma, dad, bro, hgf.) and we're staying in the Algonquin. HOW AWESOME IS THAT??????? Had a slim chance of staying at the Chelsea Hotel, but that didn't work out. Ma didn't trust it to have hypoallergenic bedding. I'm skint or else I'd stay there myself (I hate sharing hotel rooms). Still, this shall be fun. Oh yeah.
Been listening to some Bowie stuff besides Ziggy Stardust: Low and Stationtostation. Jolly good.
that's about it. I have a headache.
Party on!

1979

Sid Vicious is the icon that punk rests upon. He was the best of punk and the worst of punk and the very worst of human degradation. He was a junkie, a would-be hard man, a terrible bassist, and quite possibly a murderer as well. But we love him. Why?
Because he really believed in punk and the associated subculture. Because he was essentially a sweet kid. Because he managed to look good even with the words "Search and Destroy" carved into his chest. And because he really is a punk icon. The leather jacket, the boots, the chain? Classic! Sid!
And yes, he was an idiot. His song lyrics are pretty weak and he never bothered to learn his instrument. But he presented himself as a good punk bass player so we believed him. He lived fast, died young, and left a good-looking if slightly bruised corpse. Elvis never managed that.
Bob Gruen, a great photographer, toured with the Sex Pistols in America. He had a pair of motorcycle boots that Sid coveted. Once Bob fell asleep on the bus with his boots resting on the seat beside him. Sid came over and held a knife to his throat, saying, "If I killed him, I could keep his boots." He didn't, and when Bob woke up he found Sid wearing his boots with a goofy smile on his face. "I like your boots. May I wear them for a bit? You can wear mine, if you like."
I am the world's forgotten boy one who searches, searches to destroy!

Albion and Arcadia

Lately I've been rather lonesome despite the spell of sunny weather
I've found it hard to stay on track; I cannot get it together
The Irish write the saddest songs and then move on to better things
The singer's loneliness spills out into the quiet songs he sings
Paranoid and on my own I've lived for many years
The silence in the nighttime serves to amplify my fears

I may be lonely now and I was very lonely yesterday
Despite the paranoia I won't have it any other way

Dreaming of dystopian fears that haunt the quiet of my mind
The streets and towers and smoky air of cities I have left behind
Someday I'll watch my feet again on the paving stones of Camden Town
The tower blocks of loneliness will fade away and crumble down
Lately I've been dazed, confused, can't keep my thoughts straight in my head
I thought I saw him on the streets but it can't be him, he's four years dead

I may be lonely now and I was very lonely yesterday
Despite the paranoia I won't have it any other way

Arcadia, the promised land, once haunted sailors' wildest dreams
But in its towns and cities it's not quite so lovely as it seems
The darkness of the hotels where Chelsea Girls would go to die
Is captured here in city streets, a while ago they longed to fly
The Westway into Ladbroke Grove, the grassy slopes on Hampstead Heath
The traintracks over Albion hide battlefields far beneath

I may be lonely now and I was very lonely yesterday
Despite the paranoia I won't have it any other way

-J. Ritchie, 23rd Jan 2006 Not to be reproduced except for educational purposes

Up the Bracket

...or up yours, mate.

I was feeling bored and lonely yesterday after helping my mother clean out her basement. "Should we keep these cookie cutters, ma?" "Throw 'em out." "But we might be able to use them." "Throw them out!"

The day before that I got into a long argument about Whole Foods mac'n'cheese.
J: Okay, so the sandwiches are too expensive, so we could get mac'n'cheese....
G: yeah, okay, but there's only one big carton left. We could split it...
J: or we could both get little cartons
G: Or we could both get big cartons but there's only one big carton left
J: or you could get a big carton and I could get a little carton
G: really?
J: yeah, I'm being generous.
We ate while watching Family Stone, which is a lot better than I thought it would be.

I went home and went to bed, cleaned ma's basement, got bored, and went CD hunting. They didn't have Up the Bracket at my usual place so I was forced to support Borders and therefore corporate America. Whatever. Bro's girlfriend works there. Bought Up the Bracket, listened to it several times, felt better. Been walking around with "The Boy Looked At Johnny" or "Horrorshow" stuck in my head. Pete Doherty's been arrested again and supposedly broke up with Kate Moss. Sucks for her, don't it?
Yeah...
bye

The Boy Looked At Johnny

I have a confession to make. This may shock you all. Particularly those of you who thought I was reasonbaly intelligent. Or had reasonably good taste in music.
Ready?

I like the Libertines, and I don't yet own any of their albums.

This is terrible.

ItWasGreatFun will think I'm an art-hating phillistine. Mini Wheat will think I'm a crack addict like Pete Doherty. Snowy will think I'm weird. Peaches will tie me to a chair with James Brown blasting from the speakers for twelve hours straight.
But to them I say: HAHAHAHA!!!! I will like lad-rock if I want to!!!! And you can't stop me!