In this age of internet and blog the possibility opens of a free circulation of works (poems and poetics in the present instance) outside of any commercial or academic nexus. I will therefore be posting work of my own, both new & old, that may otherwise be difficult or impossible to access, and I will also, as it comes to me, post work by others in the manner of a freewheeling on-line anthology or magazine. I take this to be in the tradition of autonomous publication by poets, going back to Blake and Whitman and Dickinson, among numerous others.

-Jerome Rothenberg

[via Yepez]

It isn't, of course, but there's nothing more exciting happening. Luke creates some drama, and Jennifer says that, now the gobby ones have all gone, the BB house will be "like the Waltons".  If she means full of repressed sexuality, moonshine and imbeciles, she's probably right. "We're not 14 year old girls in America," says Luke, "we shouldn't be having slumber parties!" What the flip is wrong with him? He then lays into Rachel for not having an opinion. He's such a little bitch. Again, I say: Stop it, Luke. Also, we still haven't seen you in a suit (the ones you wear every day, remember?), you little liar.

Darnell then drags Rebecca into the bath, which is only half a step away from rape. He doesn't get reprimanded, which seems a little lax of Big Brother. Maybe they weren't watching properly? She then goes and lies on top of Luke and "rubs her disgusting wet breasts in (his) face". There's that Waltons-esque repressed sexuality, Luke-boy. Luke whines a bit, and has changed her "breasts" into her "wet groin". Ugh. Luke - I think - gives Darnell permission to just do Rebecca, possibly without her consent. Big Brother is really slacking. Rebecca throws a cup of water on Luke. "How lovely!" says Kat. I remember somebody getting in trouble for throwing a cup of water at someone in a previous BB. Can't remember who, though. Anyone? 

Rachel suggests that Lisa becomes a model. "I've done some modelling for my friends," Lisa says. I'll bet she has. "Everytime I try to get into modelling, something happens," Lisa moans. What, Lisa? Crushing rejection? Defeat? People looking at you and laughing? "It upsets me when the young girls have bulmia (sic)", which I think is when they inject bull steroids into their vajayjays, as she clearly does. UGH! Low-key Mario then says that Lisa sucks his toes. Honestly, is there anything less erotic in the world? Toe sucking? Vile. Mario and Lisa? Vile. All they need to do is perform the act in an Auschwitz Cleansing Centre and it'll be the world's lowest moment.

"Jennifer holds the key to the house," says Mikey, "and I got to feel her ski-slope nose."  He reveals that her French-Waitress-Whore outfit of the other day was meant to be a secretary costume. She must have never worked in an office, or maybe only played an office worker in a Dutch specialist film. Luke witters on some more. I've tuned his voice out of my head. I once wrote that he was an old lady in Coronation Street. It's actually Emmerdale, and thus even duller. "You know many things is wrong, and too many wrongs is not one right," says Kat when she sees Luke stealing some lemonade, which is the best phrase ever and makes far too much sense to forget. Rex helps Kat make cookies, as they forgot to buy her some. Jennifer has Jeremy Clarkson's teeth, and looks like a Ferengi from Star Trek. Thrice Ugh, I say. Rex makes a big cookie and breaks it into little bits to share it around. Everyone is happy.

Oh, here we cocking go. Jennifer, Luke and Bex sit and bitch about Rachel, accusing her of being false. Jennifer uses the Walton analogy again, which is odd. Maybe it's the only TV show she's ever seen? Do the Ferengi get terrestrial TV on their ships? Rex's cookie is nasty. Kat and Darnell sing a song called Happy House. It's better than Dem Girls, but not by much. You know Dem Girls, right? (Little known fact: Dem Girls is now the number one search term on google that brings people to this site. I am not even joking.) "Rex is my cookie rescue hero," says Kat. Bex completely misquotes Rex. She's fuming. Everyone piles into the bathroom, and it's just becoming silly. "Rex, I'm sorry, but I really don't like you," Bex tells him. "Stay away from me." "You're the biggest male chauvinist I've ever met!" Jennifer bleats in with, like a coward running behind an army. Again, I reiterate: FERENGI. Some of the housemates then discuss who they think will win. Luke or Kat, they suggest. 50%. Must try harder.

Bex goes around the house talking to people and being paranoid. I don't care, and shan't give her the time. Stop accusing Kat and Rachel - who are nice people, dull as they might be - of being nasty/underhand/sly/whatever. Dale then calls out Bex, and basically calls things as they are. He's totally on point. "Everyone has their thing: yours, Bex, is your tits! When you came in you were a slag and got your tits out." He's brilliant now. Kat cries because of the fighting, a child of a bitter divorce. She ends up so upset I fear that she will bash her brains out on the yellow lockers. She is convulsing in the garden, and Mario rubs her and soothes her. His is the biggest turn around ever. This year is properly tidal, everyone shifting and changing day to day. During the course of one day Bex has cut herself off from Rex and Darnell. I spot a possible evictee right there... The whole thing is now Chinese whispers, only with a Thai lady and lots of shouting. Thai Shouting. There, a new game that will sweep playgrounds the world over. 

The episode ends with Rex in the diary room moaning about Luke's deceptions, and Jennifer moving to a space station and opening a bar to serve drinks to some of the universe's rougher elements. 

Thanks for pointing this out, Adam.

Pow pow pow, Alex: Pow Pow Pow.

Yesterday was a focus day; instead of having a PSHE (Personal, Social and Health Education) lesson every week, our school gives us a whole day of it every half term. PSHE is basically about trying to educate us on things in the big wide world, so we have lessons on things from "careers advice", family planning and fair trade chocolate to people telling us not to smoke, drink, do drugs or have unprotected sex. And we had yet another one of those lessons on sex yesterday, this time about condoms and how to *ah hem* apply them, with these delightful fake penises. Hmm, a load of 15-year-olds with condoms. I'll leave the rest to your imagination, and fill in some for you. Those who know me or have read my previous blogs will know that I'm very childish sometimes, so add these latex things to the mix, and oh dear. I blew a couple of them up into balloons (as you do), without realising that our headmaster was standing right behind me. Well "oh *&#$£!" went through my mind to start with, before he (thankfully) just laughed and hit me over the head with some paper. A close shave that one. Following this, we had to list various reasons why young people might have sex; some the reasons that people came up with were quite disturbing/odd/disgusting/wierd, to say the least. I shall file that session under "interesting".

Almost straight after the "interesting" lesson, I had to pop off to Shrewsbury for my audition for the Shropshire Youth Orchestra. Now, the day before, I'd had a music lesson, which thankfully meant that I was a lot less panicky than I would have otherwise been, as I found that my piece didn't sound too bad, and that I didn't have to play three octaves to a bow scales, only seven notes to a bow, which I could just about manage. Of course, as soon as I went into the main hall to wait I was once again saying "*&#$£!", to myself of course. Also, I was supposed to have 20 minutes prep time before-hand, but in typical Roberts family fashion we arrived late, to the extent that I was still getting my viola out of its case when someone stuck their head through the door and politely smiled at me. "Oh *&#$£!". So off I toddled into the exam room, where I was met by my audition panel, consisting of two string teachers, one of whom I know quite well. Anyway, I got the scales off the way first; they didn't sound brilliant, but then I suppose they weren't awful either. Then to my piece: A Courante in G Major, from the first of Bach's Cello suites, for those of you who might have heard of it. There were a few cock-ups, nothing major (no pun intended), but then it didn't sound uber good. Finally, some sight reading, that went OK, but once again not brilliant. Of course, all of that was in my opinion, so who knows, but hopefully the fact there are less violists around might play into my hands. Fingers crossed!

After the (rather short) audition, we popped off to Sainsbury's to find a photo booth, as my brother and I needed some passport photos. I think it must be law that your passport photo should look terrible. The thing was, in this photo booth you weren't given a countdown on screen, instead it was just a woman's voice that said "Ready? OK!" before the picture was taken. Consequently, Ross looked like he was about to be shot, and I looked like I was about to whack someone across the face. Nice. Unfotunately, getting a new passport means that I'll have no stamps to show people, which I like doing; I only have three (one from Egypt, one from the US and one from Zimbabwe) but still, I like having them. One day I would love to have a passport full of stamps. Maybe my gap year, if I have one.

So, condoms, auditions and passport photos all in one day. I'll be able to look at my passport photo and tell people this very story. You heard it here first. 

Pob never had to be a whiny bitch to get on television, mind you.

see im a newby...nainggit lang talaga ako at na-curious at the same time kea naicpan kong gumawa ng sarili kong blog...naisip ko lang na kung nageenjoi akong makibasa ng blog ng iba, y not gumawa ako ng sarili ko...jeje dba npkainggitera ko...

nieweis hope i could make interesting topics just like what others have in their blog...harhar... ciao!

Please Note : By "imitate", I mean "copy" or "re-create" and not mere reproduction of looks or behaviour.

I cannot stand those who try to do things just because others do it. Sometimes, I get so irritated when people copy me. I try not to show it directly  but yeah, I DO get annoyed. /*aargh*\

Come on you losers, Be Yourself. Even if it means you don't get all the attention, never try to Imitate. It irritates the person whom you're trying to imitate and also others. ( I've noticed )

Today I realized that you can also look at it this way : If someone imitates you, just be proud of yourself 'coz it means that you have a follower ! You have a fan ! Yaayy !! ;)

When they’re not working hard they’re hunting, fishing, or talking about it. They’re cleaning up from this deer season or getting ready for the next one. They discuss deer leases and Elk tags and why the turkeys are scarce or plentiful. They gossip about big cats or black bears or other dangers of being in the trees.

It’s a little tough to ‘culturalize’ the gospel to these fellows if you’re me. Stay at home dad, four kids, two mini-vans. The last and only time I went deer hunting I fell asleep out in the woods just before the sun came up with a loaded 30-06 laying across my knees. Don’t try this at home folks. I have fishing poles and I occasionally use them to great effect.

The problem is this. About ten years ago I decided it would be better to fish for men. You see when you hunt or fish for anything else, it’s for your own belly or your own glory. When you are a ‘fisher of men’ it is for God’s glory and someone else’s benefit. I think hunting and fishing is an important part of our American culture, but I also think that Christians have an obligation to do what they are called to do. Go, make disciples, baptize them…you know, the great commission. Fishing was something Peter went back to after he screwed up being a disciple. If he ever went back to it, honestly, it would just be a rationalization on his part.

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If I had 499 quid...

In general this is very much improved and is of the standard that I was expecting you to be able to produce. So I'm delighted that you've managed it, although it was clearly a painful process! It will obviously need some editing and tightening up, but this is well on the way to being a good submission for your upgrade, and indeed a PhD chapter.

To say I feel like yelling with joy and dancing around like a drunk man is an understatement. Ajua!

Let's not even talk about the barfy car seats, OK?

Anyway, we're a little behind in Mark, but that's why. Life happens.