important:

FYI

alright, so here comes a little bit of angst aimed directly at the face of VICE magazine. so wassup, im getting deleted from the VBN blog roll because i have some poor internet at my uni, which i paid £125 for by the by, a massive waste of money, i could have bought a life time supply of penny sweets or atleast half a dozen kittens or a second hand volvo estate from ebay, but no, i spent it on internet that doesnt work. anyway, in relevance to that, i can barely log into my emails to see my emails from vice to tell me to blog about black pimps, music artists im not interested in and student riots etc etc. so here goes it, with my last bit of fading energy, i will tell you VICE, im now gunna use your magazines to wipe my ass and will go out with a bang, tonight i plan to get face down drunk because i was already in a shitty mood from writing a personal statement for uni and being abnormally successful at failing at life on a whole. now i have to re-write that bit about being a contributing member of a blogging group for an international magazine, so if no uni's take me for being not-so-rad, be it on your head VICE. smd, you can prize that VBN blog badge from my clammy dead grip. peace

"work hard you art fag"

the above statement is currently the piece of text im looking at, hand scrawled in what is probably about a 72pt size in relation to normal fonts, with 4 arrows pointing towards it to reiterate how important these motivational words are. and guess what kids, its working, so heres some more discriminating evidence of me being an art fag working hard.

Stags and fags.

that will be all

everyone shutup.

alright, im not going to apologise for the tardiness of this blog,

im not going write about the ins and outs of my life that may or may not interest you (most probably the latter)

and im not going to deny the fact that i have nearly polished off a whole tube of pringles to my bad self.

however; i AM going to have a good old fashioned rant.

a) youtube, stop telling me what to do, i dont care what you recommend, im not interested and i dont want to watch another montage of dragon ball Z combat scenes with some half hearted metal playing over the top.

b) no facebook i dont want to go to youmeatfuckingsix's DJ set, so stop inviting me. but thanks for the concern.

c) vans authentics, why do you insist on smelling like piss and cabbage despite my every effort to defy the stench of toe? what the hell, ive been nothing but a strong, dedicated and focused fan of your footwear for many years and you pay me back with trenchfoot. swell.

d) my bellybutton has decided to get really itchy for no reason and i dont want to touch it because last time this happened i ended up with a stinking sore bellybutton. alex warned me this happens when you poke around and that little fleshy abyss.

e) i swear degenerate inbred people are multiplying like cancerous cells. seems people arent capable of holding up a coherent conversation without one eye drifting serenely into the back of their skulls and that completely lucid look taking over their vacant faces.

f)uck.

g) touche.com is beginning to take a strangling hold on my soul. it seems i cannot draw inspiration from any other source than this damn site. touche, touche.com

h) if one more person asks me if im asian im going to freak out.

i) am really moody.

j) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EK2tWVj6lXw

thou shalt not party

to encapsulate the past month i have spent at university, all i can really say is that ive probably made my chances of liver failure in the next 20 years inevitable. apart from that theres not an awful lot i have to say, and as per usual these days im suffering from being verbally inapt. all those precious braincells i drowned and then projected onto the floor of farnham train station in the form of chunky paste via the orifice of my mouth are probably what were keeping me from being a dysfunctional lump of meat, but now theyre gone, nothing is preventing me from being a total vegetable. i think uni life has taken its tole on my already; the bags under my eyes now look like sacks of sand used to protect walls during monsoon seasons, my hair looks like a brown cheese string, my skin in a new shade of dirty beige and theres a spot on my forehead at the moment which has its own pulse and is aptly named Vesuvius II, but i suppose these are all little kick backs from a lifestyle of drunken escapades and sleep deprivation. my uni room smells like a sewer by day and feels like a sauna by night, my carpet is depressingly dirty and the henry hover the uni supplied really doesnt cut the mustard when it comes to actually sucking stuff up, i might aswell just recruit loads of people to fart in unison at my carpet to give a sort of organic leaf blower effect. my collection of empty bottles has grown fast and im adopting all sorts of exotic type of beverage, and im pretty sure social services are going to come knocking at my door and exile me for being such a massive skank... lush. anyway, apart from breaking bones, being sick, being nocturnal etc, i am actually doing some hardcore work. believe it or not. anyway, my b82rez are running super low so im going to have to cut this blog short because im not getting out of bed to retrieve the charger for love nor money. so i'll leave you with some nice pictures.

FRESH.

once upon a time, a young gremlin named roma embarked on a further educational journey resulting in her ending up in the magical kingdom of Farnham, where she lived in a crack den like accommodation on a university campus, where she spent her days avoiding soap and hot water and drinking herbal tea and thinking "outside the box".

"all these wet leaves keep smacking me in the suede"

this may be a much overdue blog, but golly do i have some tales to tell you my little creeps. my summer, as i mentioned in said previous blog, probably did shit all over yours, surprise surprise. my liver is now a raisin like formation thats sitting somewhere in the lower quarters of my body, heartily complaining about the beating its been subjected to, my lungs are protesting over every simple breath with a ball of flubber and my every limb feels some sort of disease, but im not complaining, no regrets from the summer. ive come back from italy with my war wounds, from the plethora of scars across my left hand from playing five finger fillet and getting malled by alex to the dent and bruises across my shin from stacking it whilst climbing a waterfall and landing bodily onto a large boulder, to the two pierced holes of skin from being bitten by a wild vole. its all character building and its no wonder i feel shitty considering i didnt get a tetanus jab or any form of medical relief during the onslaught. while i hear stories of people from reading and other festivals going outside at night, pumped full of mdma and smart price vodka to commit the scandalous act of dropping a stool in mother natures lap, some of us up in the mountain were doing it by choice. represent. so, for novel purposes, i am going to tell of tales from up in Rio Vaiano campsite, and see how one could pursue to try and top these stories. so, during the time that my loving boyfriend was in italy with me, things were never too wild, we spent a lot of time mashing our braincells into a menial nothing by playing nintendo ds (still didnt manage to complete pokemon diamond, despite being there a month playing it pretty much solid) so the first month was a total relaxation period, bar one night when my alcohol tolerance peaked and i managed to consume a mix of beer, red wine, brandy and rum, which, not surpriseingly, appeared in the form of a behemoth pile of purple rice at the foot of our tent later that evening. however, i topped all expectations of excessive stupid behavior with the arrival of alex the brave, joshuuuuwah and peter. im not trying to say i was mislead by this tribe of new blood on the campsite, but the simple fact is, i just was. it would seem that all madness was unleashed upon their arrival. ant had managed to keep me tame and civil admirably well, but all hell broke lose when he left. me and the crew hit up irish bars, terrorised locals, become tribal and boarderline hostile/feral. within a few days of being on site, we hit the date of friday the 13th, on which we spent the day on wood craft activities to personalise our new walking sticks and make jewellery from the skeletal remains of a wild boar. you might think we're sick puppies but we had a distinct tribe up there in the cruel natural world. we thought josh was going to die that night, simply because he seemed the most plausible of the tribe to get snatched and torn apart by wild animals (sorry josh). though somehow he survived, some voodoo tricks saved him no doubt. anyway, another one of our adventures included going to a local irish bar called the Grind House. you'd expect it to be full of grungers and goths having it large to sabbath etc, but it would appear we were the most threatening and elite group of freaks there that night. all behavioural pretences had stayed safely zipped up in our tents, along with our common sense, as we sat there for the night drinking... well whatever they gave us really. the outcome was a messy one, me and alex were left on a table swearing at some man from finland, who turned around and happened to speak english, much to alex's horror. josh got pinned by a new fan club of "alternative" italian teenage girls, to which i immediately put the kibosh on , much to the girls disappointment, as josh was dragged away vainly shouting "ADD ME ON FACEBOOK" to the girls silhouettes. the evening progressed to grinding halt and i hit rock bottom, whilst sat on a curb singing to city and colour with josh, serenading passers by, whilst taking a break to projectile vomit onto the pavement and curb just right of me, and joining back in for the chorus with a bitter taste of bile in my mouth. not only did i manage to piss a canal across the italian streets of castel nuovo, i accomplished total moronic behaviour by becoming paralysed with the strenuous effort to throw up more, with my head wedged out the side of the car on the way home, eyes tight shut and doing little dribbly sicks down the side of the car for the duration of the journey. towards the end of this journey, as we approached the campsite and entered the green forest area where the road is overgrown, i remained with my head out the window and eyes shut, and endured every over hanging branch of shrub to slap me square in the face with its dewy leaves. at the time, having my eyes closed and being non the wiser, i proclaimed that the sensation of wet slaps to the forehead was because there were frogs in the road and we were running them over, resulting in there guts being sprayed and splattered onto my face. it was all very serious to me and almost upsetting for the amount of dead frog i assumed must be patted across my face, much to everyone elses amusement as they could see the approaching foliage in the headlights. other examples of crippling alcohol intake include a night of drinking vodka, jager and lemoncello. might aswell just downed a few pints of diesel for similar effect. nothing quite tops the night of drinking 70% rum until 7 in the morning, like some outer body experience of being pickled. 70% rum, 100% wasted. climbing waterfalls, walking 8km in 38 degrees, catching fish with home made fishing rods and being hardcore as fuck is nothing compared to endurance of our lungs and livers. respect.

dont mess with the Roman

for anyone who cares or shows any interest in my life and reads this drivel of a blog, i have an announcement; my summer is going to shit all over yours. the incessant feeling of glee for the impending season of debauchery that awaits me is enough to send me into fits and spasms; however i am staying composed, cool and 100% collected in these run up days before the bestest vacation eva kicks off. we all know that the weeks coming up to this monuments holiday extravaganza have been proleptic of good times to come and keep rolling, i.e my coming of age, my ability to drive a motor vehicle legally with a little pink card aptly named a driving license, and the offer made to me by the University of Creative Arts in Farnham to come and join their elite force of gruffalo type soap-dodging students with innovative ideas and visionary flare. so, while ive been driving around in my little blue car feeling smug as i stall my way across the south coast, i know i am approaching the time where i relive last summer- camping in vagli di sotto, embracing the Tuscan wilderness in my sweaty arms. i cannot physically think of anything more appealing. i cant help but feel sorry for all you mofo's- who like me have just turned 18- and think your squeaky clean little queer fest summer of experimenting with the new dimension of adulthood and putting your feelers out to put your fingers in all the proverbial pies of sex, drugs and sausage rolls... but for me, i get to live the real dream, do all the things i did wrong last summer again and get it right this time, keep it simple, cool as a cucumber, return home unscathed with little to no emotional scarring and take the good zen to uni. so whoever you are, whatever you do, i guarantee your summer wont even scratch the surface of fun compared to the antics that will be unveiled up there in the rocky mountain summits and deep in the heart of the forests.

to summarise, dear followers, my summer is going to consist of Anthony the Mighty- a month long period of laying sunny side up into the sweltering heat as my body generates so much sweat that a form of distillation occurs, with ant watching me evapourate and cuss into the night about how im getting rashes in my thighs from sweat chaff and hairy armpits because im too lazy and filthy to scrub up will only strengthen our relationship. then, to follow the righteous path and spiritual intensification in the mountain side campsite resort will be Alex the Brave, Josh the Stoic and Pete the Wise, all valiant successors to follow the footsteps that other mere mortals cannot comprehend and to stand in the overwhelming presence of my Guru of a dad.

anyway, apart from that, i'll leave you with some pictures of what else ive been up to in my non-blogging time. voila

The Creators Project

There is a total mish-mash or artists, musicians, designers and creative folk all participating in The Creators Project, displaying their work and strutting their stuff across the cyber landscape of the internet. after looking at the project, i decided that Danny Perez was going to be my chosen victim on whom i would pry to boost my appetite for art. what immediately hit me about Perez was his dense facial hair and effectively worm handle bar moustache. as if that wasn't enough for me to respect the guy, his outlandish collection of house plants really cut the mustard for me. he sat so calmly, explaining his work and cooperation with technology as something that can be a product of "very little thought", and some how he seemed to be put on a high pedestal from the frog shaped pot that cradled something leafy just behind him. besides from his admirable facial hair and interior decoration taste, the guys art was pretty hot. he makes these visual clips of different images in a technicolor dream palette, which Perez himself describes as "manic schizophrenic", and he isn't wrong. all the aesthetic qualities of his video art summoned back memories of my dad telling me stories of his visions and experiences when taking shrooms, with the unadulterated urge to get naked and watch psychedelic patterns soar around you and inanimate objects come to life and dance before your eyes. Perez's work with Black Dice was like watching a graphic and vivid childs nightmare played at grease lightening speeds, with images of perverted monsters using the medium of Poi to communicate the frantic seizure like music across to the audience. because theres nothing like swinging balls of fire to get you going. the whole atmosphere of the video has this habit of tearing into your subconscious and waking up all that dormant energy and imagination that you've stored up over the winter months and propels it all into a galactic display of masked faces, vivid colour and moving patterns. Perez has my vote, hes a real wild card and a total b-a-b-e, kudos to him.

http://thecreatorsproject.com/en-uk/creators/danny-perez

"The possibility of complete mental and physical collapse is now very real"

the beginning of a new era; bring on summer '10. college has indeed finished for me, my exam is out the way and i never have to go back once ive signed out for good, which means my higher education has hit the next step: university. now, im not going to blow my own horn or anything, but yeah, i got into farnham UCA because they think im awesome (true story). so come september, i will blogging from the perspective of a fully fledged student, reporting wild nights, complete moral transgression and serendipitous events that involve grievous bodily harm or modification and a stomach pump in A&E. but until then, i have a summer of gorging myself into a variety of coma-like states, be it self perpetuated deep sleep coma, alcohol coma, good food coma or a bog standard unpredictable roma coma, i expect to spend my summer in semi consciousness. i have already participated in my schedule of sadistic activity to kick start this unholy vacation. the first move was to unite with fellow skank Alex to dig up the fox skull that we buried in november, and after half a litre of vodka, the idea warmed on us and we decided not to wait for daylight but make an expedition to the burial site at 00:16 with a pair of spoons, a liver full of poison and a head full of shit and total unswayable motivation. you could say we had our blinkers on as we stormed across marsh land, through thicket and over barbed wire in aim of our goal, didnt even think twice about the zombies and aliens who could have taken us. sheer determination was the tandem emotion. anyway, as you can imagine, we got no where; the spoons bent and our hands bled, so we instead sat on a broken pontoon and drank away, talking yet again about the deterioration of society and the unrelenting problems caused by government benefits. the point is, we didnt get our fox head, until the next day, where we spent a healthy 3 hours of upheaving earth with a pitch fork and a trow to find our precious skull. turns out our efforts didnt pay off because some bastard had already done the deed and discarded the skull in some near by tall grass a long time ago. devastated.

so since then ive been coaxing out my wild side in preparation for my summer in the mountains, not that it takes much encouragement, i was born to be rancid and unwashed. part of this preparation runs along the lines of my alcohol intake increasing considerably (being introduced to the double jager monster will be the end of me, im sure) and spending much time in the sun, submitting myself into a state of mild decomposition. my goal is skin that is gritty to the touch and nigh on nigerian to the eye, hair as ropey as that of repunzel, and the general aesthetic of the troll that lives under the bridge in the billy goats gruff. as for now, i have to deal with renewing my passport, sorting out my bank account, getting my phone contract either terminated or sorted out, taking another driving test on friday and going to farnham for a taster day at uni. not until i have completed these tasks can i be the care free guru i aspire to be.