but don't let me put you off
5/05/98 0:59:32 30/05/99 00:06
Melancholicmidnightmusings
That's
interesting. Looks like there are only people with taste in this sorry world.
I don't know how you got this address,
but hello. Whoever you are. Welcome to the bloated, overexposed
and frankly laughable 'pointlessselfindulgence' .The homepage of
one Jonathan Grosvenor. also known as Skip. This site is something which seemed
like a good idea at one o'clock a.m. but doesn't stand up too
well to the harsh light of day. Ah well. Feel free to click on
any of these links, or go and do something more worthwhile. Like
watch paint dry. Or write a best selling novel. Or just go back
to bed. It isn't worth it.
The ramblings below are mine. Please do not judge. Just leave with perhaps a little less understanding of this ball of dirt we wander. And try to ignore the gratuitous cheesecake. (don't ask)
"...in the middle of the night, it seemed so right...."
Here's some stuff about this lovely, sadly now defunct band. Enjoy.
"It's a spider's web just above your head/It's the telephone dead on the internet."
Here's some stuff about this
other lovely, and completely (dys)functional band. Probably worth
a look.
Here's your quickest route out
of here. Go somewhere more interesting. Fast.
Here's your chance to leave a
dent on my psyche. Fill out the fantastic
pointlessselfindulgentsurvey. Or look at the results so far. It's not really worth it
though.
Yeah, that's right. FREE STUFF.
Well, nothing special. It's not actually free though. By the time
your modem's downloaded the pictures, you'll be about five pence
poorer. So why not send the money to me instead? I'll e-mail you
the pictures. Honest.
Leave your electronic graffiti here... tell me what you reckon of the site... or talk about ultrasound or strangelove... whatever takes your fancy.
Who am I kidding? Come on,
Reveal your shame. Or you could just
at the other
bored drifters.
This place really isn't all that worthwhile. I just felt I had to make my mark on the vast mountain of the Internet. This site does exactly what it says on the title. It is pointless, and it is self indulgent. The clarity of early morning thinking revealed it to me.
Guess the Lyrics and win a magic prize!! Maybe.
And as I sit here in my room, I feel there must be something else I could be doing. Introspection always leads to disaster, and the acknowledgement of the complete senselessness of day to day life. Is it really worth it, when you get right down to it? My mind says no, but my body says yes. As ever, my weak mind is subdued by my marginally stronger body.
The darkness around me resonates with the feel of a.m. The temptation to sleep, to lose a snippet of conscious thought becomes stronger. But time is so precious. We have so little, on a universal scale, really. I hope that noone is losing their direction.
"Better watch your step/following me."
"...And if our garden is overgrown, that's cos we've got better things to do..."
Depression for me is tempered with a certain guilt. I am comfortable. I have never needed to want for the necessities of life, and I am healthy. Though I am undoubtably unattractive, I am not so deformed as to be a social outcast. In the day, I have a group of people who I associate with who are familiar and not visibly adverse to my presence. So why do I feel so down? As I write this, someone has died, but elsewhere someone has been born. It evens out eventually.
Lying in my bed, semi-comatose and listening to the radio. It is late. Or early. A plane passes over my house. Flashing lights briefly illuminate the confines of my room. I suddenly feel an inexplicable need to see the sun come up. It is three am. I keep my eyes open, staring at the window. And I listen to the radio. I see the sky turn grey, then red then blue. And two things occur to me. One is THIS is why i keep on going. The world has its moments, and they make it worth it. The other is that nighttime radio is even worse than daytime. Don't do it kids. It's SHIT.
"Girl is
much too weak a word for me. Made from balsa wood."
Walking the streets of a familiar city, I see people all around me. Staring into their faces, I try to ascertain their disposition. All these people around me, and I know none, and are never likely to. I wonder what they see when they look at me? Do they see like me? Or am I just a flicker in their consciousness, merely existing in their awareness for the duration of our eye contact. A flicker and we part. Possible husbands, wives, workmates, friends, enemies. The world is filled with missed opportunities and chances left idle.
"Wanna try and fly/wanna
try and die/wanna be a pig."
Perhaps elsewhere, in some parallel world, the chances all combine. That man who you passed. Next week he ran you down by accident. That woman. You will meet, marry and live happy and fulfilled lives until the end. Or does fate or destiny, Kismet, whatever you call it have one decided path? We may never know. Or perhaps we do already.
Perhaps elsewhere in the multiverse, all the things we aspire to, in science, have been discovered. The murders we hear about every day. Could one of them, perhaps, have invented a cure for AIDS or cancer at some point? It's such a shame.
I would like to believe in God, or gods, but it is so difficult in these jaundiced times. Religion, so often the balm of ignorance, has been replaced by the 'truth' provided by science. If there was proof, I would still stay agnostic. The fumblings for immortality lack interest for me.
"..life is unfair... kill
yourself or get over it."
One thing which we may never know is how we are seen by other people. How can we be sure that the colors we see are unique to our perception, or if they are different for every person. We cannot see the back of our heads naturally.
"Fill the skip, boys."
Telepathy, if it exists, would be the most fearful thing to encounter. The inside of our cranium is a fine and private place, and no one else should intrude. Just like anyone, my thoughts tend to wander to subjects unlikely. The mind is like clothes. You rarely see what is underneath. Just the surface persona. No label though.
"The future is dead/That's
what you said"
I wonder which language multilinguists think in. It must be wonderful to speak Spanish like I speak english, but to think in a different language is a difficult concept to grasp. Language itself is a collection of mutual understandings.
CHEESECAKE-Homemade. 70 pence.
Werd conghaj reasd miopdf aeertynoscrask asefrtifdsan ewqalopla fagertnjla wert asdf jnvx5 djshieoa and conception of ideas and presentation of thoughts is just the template for language.
When you jump, do you move up or does the ground go down? Discuss.
It's interesting to think that we all only have one thing in common, that we have a start and an end. We all move in a kind of parallel, rarely getting close enough to truly relate. Alienation is the nature of life, no two experiences can be the same.
"Survival's natural as
sorrow."
The irony in ageing seems to be you remain the same person. The landmarks in your life pass by without much notice, until you realise perhaps 10 years
ago you thought it would have happened by now. Deadlines
are overrated. Every breath you take is a loss of potential, you could have used that breath
better or in some other way. Every breath is a step towards the inexorable.
The only thing you know is that it will come, not when, not how.
Live like every breath is your last, and forgive me for not being
strong enough to follow my own preachings. Please.
So vain, so empty, so pointless,
so hypocritical, so vague, so pathetic, so worthless, so
arrogant, so laughable, so egotistical, so tired. Let there be
love for everyone i care about. That doesn't include me.
Self-hurt seems so cliched these
days, but sometimes it's the only way pain can get out. I just
wish i had the courage to do it again, but i remain clinging to
the hope that things might get better. Hope and curiosity are the
two things that keep me going, apart from escapism. It's ironic
that the one thing we can say is truly ours has strictures to
what we can and can't do with it. Laughable really, when you
think about it.
Can anyone reflect the deepness
of self-experience? The way the passion and the despair well up
inside you until it feels like you could burst, and then it stops
and you want to scream but your stupid conformistic psyche locks
the impulse inside you because that's not the way it's done, and
your mentality doesn't accept the fact of who you are and just
how worthless each breath you take is. All you are is essentially
a jumped up monkey... You might think you matter, but you are so
imperfect and animalistic that you frankly don't. All a castle is
a lot of stones, and all a stone is is a lot of sand. What does
that make humanity?
All the empty space between each
moment. I wish it wasn't there, but as time ticks away you die
slowly. I wish i didn't have to sleep. I wish i didn't have to
breath. I wish i wasn't me at all. Do you ever get the feeling
that you aren't who you should be? Welcome to my life. It feels
like my body is wrong. Can you blame me for wanting to get out of
it?
A sort of sanity appears to me
as the dawn arrives. What am I doing? None of this makes any
sense. Adolescent philosophical wanderings. Oh well. Who will
ever read it?
You have been
wasting your time on
 This PREMIER
Home Pages Web Ring!! site is owned by Skip. Want to join The
PREMIER Home Pages Web Ring?
|
|---|
| [Prev 5 Sites] [Skip Prev] [Prev] [Next] [Skip Next] [Next 5 Sites] [Random Site] [List Sites] |