<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252</id><updated>2011-12-06T21:43:32.251+13:00</updated><title type='text'>ahead of his time</title><subtitle type='html'>proof that i was on the band wagon, even before it had wheels.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>112</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-116183240294999701</id><published>2006-10-26T16:12:00.000+13:00</published><updated>2006-10-26T16:29:39.746+13:00</updated><title type='text'>the end</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;cos i really couldn't be bothered posting the rest of this crap on separate days, but felt i should at least finish it, here are the last eighty odd entries in one hit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and ninety three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, how long has it been matey? Yeah, about that long, eh. A lots happened since then, a new year to start with. Two actually. Been nearly two years to the day since last time, eh? Lots happening, eh? Got a real job now. Yeah, working at Parliament, eh? Still got me real nice girlfriend, eh? Nearly two and a half years, eh? Nearly a big pop star, eh? Writing really neat pop songs, eh? Playing some pretty good guitar, too. But I ain't got no band, eh? Sorta holding me up on the stardom trip, eh? But so it goes, eh? One day, eh? You know, it still feels the same. Well same as it did yesterday, eh? Can't really remember how it felt last time. Too long ago, eh? But I guess it ain't. It just feels it. God life can be so fucking mundane sometimes. Holiday's are cool though. Just been on one. To Marlborough. It was great. Rental car. Wineries. Me girl. Money to spend. No worries. Then we get back home. Back to work. Back to mundane. But that is the way it falls I guess, eh? Never mind. Yeah, bollocks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and ninety two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, how long has it been matey? Yeah, about that long, eh. A lots happened since then, a new year to start with, practically half of one actually. Comings and goings, just come back, matter of fact. House-sitting. Has it moments, ups and downs. Oh, I have lived some more too. Has it moments, ups and downs. You know how it is. Nah, I don't suppose you do really do you? Got me a real nice girlfriend too, and a job. Yeah, marriage counsellor for an old school friend. Nah, he ain't old, it is just an expression that is all. Oh, shut up. Been back at varsity a while. Has it moments, ups and downs. How could I forget, Dad lost his job, got himself self-employed, but applied for other jobs, still waiting for words though. Really not much has changed, but a hell of a lot. Oh, buggered if I know what it means, it just sounds good, now shut up. 'Til next.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and ninety one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh the fun. Oh the excitement. Oh the joy. Oh the bloody boredom. Oh the fucking tedium. Oh the monotony. Oh it's life on the dole, of course. Lethargy, boredom, apathy and all that. Christ this is dull. Get up, go to bed, get up, go to bed, and I've only been doing it for one day. Better luck in the next one, mate (life that is).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and ninety&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Do you know how disturbing it is to have someone who likes going around shouting about how strange they are say "I wish I was normal" in the middle of a conversation with you? I do. I have had it done to me. Frightening. God I'm glad I'm unique.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;A friend of mine worked out a concept which could save democracy. As a concept it is brilliant. As an actual practical idea it has its downfalls. His idea - get rid of Party politics i.e. have people standing as independents, with their own ideas and views. Sounds fair when you compare it to the democracy of today whereby we have the right to choose who is going to stuff up the country, but have absolutely no say in how the country should be run (except by basing our ideas/opinions on pre-election promises which may or may not hold post-election). The only people who do actually have a say in the running of the country are the politicians, and Party members who help decide on Party policy. It is hardly democratic at all. Party politics do detract from democracy, because if you are in that party you are compelled to agree with everything they do, and if you are in the opposition you are compelled to disagree with everything done, or fair losing face. Party politics detract from democracy, so get rid of Party politics and save democracy. It makes good sense. The main problem, as I see it, with this idea is that most politicians are to some extent egotistical. This would mean that, in the case of New Zealand, you get 94 egotistical people running the country, each with their own views on how the country should be run, and not being able to accept others views, be they right or wrong. That, in the long run, or even in the short, would not be in the least bit beneficial to the country, which is not good. Try the idea on a smaller scale, like an island with a very small population, and it may work, but on such an island, democracy probably already exists in a form better than elsewhere, so it would be rather pointless really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;No I haven't been sleeping with Philippa you crude bugger, it's just that my sleep is spending a lot of time with her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I've got to go to bed to catch up with my sleep, because it's been spending a lot of time with Mr. Happy lately, and Mr. Happy has moved in with Philippa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Yeehaa! Sucked all you others who haven't. That is all I have to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You know earlier I told you that I was psychic, well it's true. There's no denying it. The stories I could relate about psychic experiences of late. But I can't be buggered, so I won't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Isn't stupidity a wonderful tool?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I'll show you a real man.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, well, well. Wot 'ave we 'ere then eh? A nice little you know wot, ain't it just? You boys better watch yourselves. You don't know who might come up 'ere and want some, do you? 'Specially them copper type. Right lot of bastards them. I know a few, and they are right little bastards. So you boys just better watch this stuff, and maybe get rid of it, before I call the station. And if you don't, we'll be splitting it between us, and you won't get none. And don't come complaining, none, cos the chief will tell you where to stick your bloody problem, and you won't like that none, cos 'e's a right mean bastard, 'e is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;So the sheep have taken over, and been ate by corn cobs, but at least they can't feed or else there would be trouble, and the insane mightn't be, so everyone will think wrongly and throw up, because conformity is a disease of human nature. But what will be done about the likes of you and me and me and you and you and me and you? It will be genocide, mass destruction of illogic and stupidity and Pythonesqueians. A sad loss to the apes and cucumbers, not to mention the flatworms and microphages. Oh dear, I just don't know what to do. Maybe someone can save us, maybe someone can't. Never mind, we can just eat him instead.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well that was fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Just recently I have been writing some letters to this person in Christchurch whom I don't know. I thought I would share with you my latest sacrifice, because it has the ability to go down in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;literary history as one of the stupidest letters ever writ.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Dear Julie,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I must thank you from the depths of my proboscis for the delight and insomnia I received via your lovely words of wit and wisdom. You shall never know the misery of my sanity.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Your abilities astound me. Very few people know about Schrodely Manchi Fresqau III, and we're all of them (well sometimes I am, other times I just forget). But Schrodely doesn't like pink, in fact he detests it, although I rather adore pink things, especially tutus, although I try not to wear them too often. Schrodely is actually lavender, with large cucumber lamp shades, and tends to remain rather prostrate when I try to ride him, so we just do other things together (but I daren't go into the details here).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;And by the way, I really love peanuts, especially those ones that bite, but I haven't had any for a while. I think Wellington is in short supply. It's those cannabilistic silicon brain plates which I really hate. They hurt, and make me bleed. I don't like that. Maybe we should stop breeding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I hope all those lovely, wonderful Canterbury persons are treating you adequately, and that the beautiful Avon doesn't come in your dreams and wash them off with daffodils, for that would be a tragic injustice, not to mention a damn shame, against one so unknown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Would you please give my love and regards to dear old Hagley, for I miss him dearly. We were once so close, but then he became a tree and multiplied, and I did one or other, but which I never could remember.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I wish you one thousand three hundred and twenty six peaceful and contented arachnida poda in your submarine porridgy stuff. And I have asked my brother's second father-in-law's cousin's (thrice removed) mother's aunt's nephew's bestest friend, Dangermouse, to protect your left arm from any poisoned balloon-shaped thingies, which you may happen to walk upon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;May your life be full of joy and happiness and strange men. May your bed not be (get to know them first).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Yours, very faithfully, with lots and lots and lots and lots of admiring, unrequested love, and a bare knee&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Andrew&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;PS - the broccoli and goldfish sandwiches were very tasty - please send more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;PPS - William also says hello&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;PPPS - Just before I forget - I'm so glad that you have been waiting all your life to hear from me. I was beginning to lose hope with this world. It's good to know that there are still people out there who care. I'm going to see the bank manager tomorrow about the mortgage, and the ring should be with the couriers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I could be in love, I don't know. We went out again today. I could be in love, I don't know. It's one of those funny feelings, not really anything, but something good. Not really anything, but something confusing. Not really love, but something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;George Bush isn't such a big a bastard after all. Sure, when it comes to Iraq he is still a bastard, but he is making history (again). He has taken some very important steps to full nuclear disarmament, and it makes me feel so good. All that is needed is for other nuclear armed, and capable, nations to join the party. All hail CND.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Life is full of If Only's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;If only I could find someone to spend the rest of my life with in peaceful harmony, then I might be happy. Then I might stop dwelling on that particular 'if only', and have more time to spend on all the others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Life is full of If Only's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Last night some of us sat on a beach. It was really nice. We talked and flirted and drunk (real tequila) and walked and sang and ate and danced and laughed and cried (well you can skip the crying bit). I sat with a very nice liberated female for two hours apparently (it seemed like half an hour). We talked about death. It was incredible, and very personal. I find myself quite attracted to her, but we won't go out or anything. If only we could. But we won't, because I won't let myself, and she probably won't let herself either. Anyway friendship can be much more satisfying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;It's happened. Denver the last dinosaur from hell has removed Danger Mouse from our TV sets. Oh the angst. Oh the tyranny. What ever shall we do? Denver, Satans henchman, kill him, kill them all. If only DM were here to help us. He would know what to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh the fun. Oh the excitement. Oh the joy. Oh the bloody boredom. Oh the fucking tedium. Oh the monotony. Oh it's the holidays, of course.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Holiday time again. Time to catch up on all the work you didn't do during term because you were too busy socialising and holidaying. But that's life, and I don't care if today is too nice a day be sitting inside studiously studying like a student, because it sure beats being outside and enjoying yourself, doesn't it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I saw Monty Python's The Meaning Of Life yesterday. It didn't answer any questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I just heard that some guys I went to school with died in an accident last night. They had been drinking. It sort of hits home when it is people you know, and not just names you hear on the radio, or read in the paper, who might just as well not have existed for all you care (oh dear, more dead drunks, never mind). But I knew these guys. I talked to them. Some I would even have referred to as friends at the time. I haven't seen them for a couple of years, and now I won't ever again. Such a waste of life. What's the whole bloody point to it all? Why?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am not a prat!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I forgot something, not that you need to be told, because you all know that Stiletto is a double secret triple agent working for us, them, and two other people (although we are supposed to believe that he is a triple secret double agent working only for us and them). And you all know on days off he works with his quintuplet siamese cousin, Alfred, to help in decoding the entire ancient calligraphic writings of the purple Monaquichian flying water shrew of Outer Inner Omogadomphodan. But what of Nero, I hear you ask. Well, he is just Nero - a stupid fuzzy white worm,with an IQ nearing mine. Inconsequential really, wouldn't you say? But still we must warn DM. Maybe Agent 27 could help (it is Tuesday after all), but first we must find him, or whatever he may be today. DM must know, or how will he save the world from the tyranny of evil and chaos and coffee drinkers?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Emergency. Tragedy. I just worked it out. Penfold and Greenback are really twins brothers. Someone should tell DM, but who? I can't, no one would believe me, me being hedonistically insane and all. But DM's life could be in mortal danger. Penfold could turn on him at any time. And Penfold can have some nasty turns, I know, I've seen him. (Yesterday he turned into a girl.) And what about Colonel K.? He really works for the antarctic sea gorillas as a caffeine egg, and we all know what that could mean! Someone has to warn DM that his closest allies aren't, and that he could be cut at any time. Please someone tell him, please, just so that I can retain my sanity, please.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am not a poet any more. I am a writer of short stories. What does that make me? A short-author, but I am six foot tall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I will not write any more of this until I write some more. So there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I have not written any words lately, have I ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well did you ever?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I have just come back from a uh let's see, went away Monday, come back Thursday, uh four day holiday. It was fun, just four guys (i.e. me and three others), some drink and nothing to do. A good experience of the 'male bonding syndrome effect'. I would like to tell you about all the really marvellous, crazy things we got up to, but I can't remember a thing after we arrived at the lake (Ferry), and walked inside the cabin and opened the first of many (I assume) Speights (the superior piss enjoyed in the great hotels/hostels of the south), and the time I crawled up the stairs to my bedroom. I do not know the reason for this amnesia, but never mind because it was felt good anyway.  P.S. if I ever do decide to illustrate this book you may see some of the artistic photography I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am amazingly tired, partly because I have not had much sleep lately for no particular reason, and partly because I am amazingly bored. I am going away tomorrow to get amazingly pissed as a newt and pholisyphical, but for now I am just going to go to bed. Good noight.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You really have no idea do you, just no idea whatsoever. Where have you spent all this existence? Trying to dig yourself out of all your pig swill, no doubt. Try getting a brain that works next time, you must be due for one surely. I mean how many have you had? Two, that is right, two. And how many lives have you had? Yes twenty bloody seven. You must be getting a proper brain soon, unless they hate you so much, that they are going to make you a camel next, or more likely, a round worm in some Africans intestine. But it will be a step up for you anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;To thyne own self be true. Well I try to be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Knowledge is only what society finds acceptable as explanation. It does not mean that society really knows anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;How can you pretend to be knowledgable, when all you know has been told to you by people who are no more knowledgable than you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;How can something exist if there is nothing there to see it or feel it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;How can something make a noise if nothing is there to hear it?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;A little while ago I told you about a question I often pose myself. A question along the lines of: when a tree falls in a deserted forest, does it make a noise? Ah, you remember, good. Well I would like you to empty your mind as you contemplate the answer, and when you find it tell me, and I will say that you are wrong (unless of course you are right, but a prefer the left maybe).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I have been a housewife today. It was not too bad. Get up about ten thirty-ish, after reading for an hour or so, have a shower, make myself a hearty brunch of scrambled egg and bacon, do some washing, hang it out, bake some shortbread and chocolate slice, perform some minor veterinary surgery, and do the dishes. I enjoyed myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I was just thinking about someone I know. His name is Richard. He is a very strange person, with an obscure taste in food. But I suppose it is better than being a strange food, with an obscure taste in people.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I met an old school friend yesterday. His is really stupid because he is working, and not bumming around as a university student, but it was his decision. But I must admit his job does sound fun. He works for the ANZ as a professional bank robber. It is his job, or so he tells me, to travel around the country, and rob branches of the ANZ. For his sins he gets paid good wages, full travel expenses, and a team of top class lawyers (just in case he gets caught). Apparently he has to inform the heads of where he is intending his next hiaste, just so they know it was him and not some real crim. He really enjoys it, and it does sound like fun, really keep you on your toes and thinking, but he does not like the fact that he has to return the cash as soon as possible, so he is now thinking of doing a big job and then taking off to Brazil or Switzerland for a holiday. I might join him if he remembers about my request.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Nothing to write, nothing to say. This is the end, my only friend, the end. Thanks Jim, inspiring words. Words that make you want to get up at dawn and put your boots on, and pick a face from the ancient gallery, and walk on down the hall, and kill your brother and kill your sister and kill your father and rape your mother. Really awesome stuff, Jim, really bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Yeah, what a weird sensation, killing yourself when you are already dead. Man, what a buzz, I think I will do it again tomorrow. I need today to recover, you see. I am never doing drugs or alcohol again, I will just kill myself when I feel like getting high, it lasts longer. Eternally, I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;It is true, honest, this book did get burnt in the fire, it only exists as a clump of wet, soggy, black ashes. Man am I annoyed. All that effort, all that time, wasted, for nothing. Now no-one can appreciate my true brilliance, because it has all been burned. It is so depressing, I think I will kill myself. Good bye cruel world, I am leaving you today, good bye, good bye, good bye.  P.S. I actually died in the fire with all my inspiration and creation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am sorry, I must admit it, but Richy Archibald-Graisophilis does not actually exist, and neither do his policies, well all except the last one, that was a bit of electioneering by me. I have informed many people of my defence policy, and shall be appointed defense minister in time, I can assure you, and the world will love me for it, and I will get my fourth Nobel Prize, and become even more famous and loving and caring and obnoxious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well thank you for all those better suggestions, it is a shame none of them dealt with the situation I was writing about, but many of them were very good. For example, Bailter Blowfish of Te Awamutu wrote in suggesting I baste my trout in a vinegarette of white wine, egg yolk, cinnamon, orange peel jalapeno peppers, and a sprinkling of road tar. I will remember it next time I cook some trout. Another suggestion I got was from Mr. Alfred Blank of Takapuna, who suggested that we kill off all the damn realty agents so that he could sell his wife and family. A nice idea, but somewhat idealistic I feel, especially if your wife and children are as disgustingly insipid as mine. I received a grand plan from Richy Archibald-Graisophilis who lived in Waimaruku, concerning the upcoming elections, and how he wants to start his own party and become PM. He has all his policies well thought out, which is good, and his economic policies are going to be a life-saver for this country. Firstly there would be no Social Welfare, all those on benefits would be flown out of the country if they could not find a job. Employment-wise New Zealand will return to full employment, with subsistence farming and encouragement of small business growth, especially in the areas where there are export chances such as home-brewing, drug crop production, and money laundering (and if you can not get a job you will be exiled). And the one I really like, the budget for the Armed Forces would be slashed, and all personnel armed with water pistols. This would serve the dual purpose of saving money, and being a great offense against possible invasion because who would want to invade a country wish is stupid enough to use water pistols as its main defensive weapon? You would think that the whole population is completely crazy, and therefore likely to withstand any invasion attempts, so you might as well not try. I was astounded, at last an intelligent, logical politician (well would-be politician anyway). There were lots more fantastically impressive ideas, but I lost them when I burnt my house down yesterday. I also lost all my manuscripts, and everything I owned. It was a bummer, the happiest day of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Can you remember a few pages back, I told you about this song I wrote, but could not find the title? Yeah, good. Well I found the title, when I was not looking for it of course, and it is perfect for the song. But there is a little problem with it, and that is that the only person I know who can pronounce it is unlikely to be involved in my recording career, which means I will have to take a recording of Pip introducing the song to all my gigs, and that could be very annoying, especially if I should lose it. If you have any better suggestions, please contact me.  P.S. the title is actually 'Floccinaucinihilipilification'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Do you know what I saw today? Of course you do not, so I will tell you. I saw three people sitting down reading this book. I was really amazed, so I just forgot about it,and started thinking logically for a change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and forty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well, that makes a change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;O.K. son, just this once, mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well can I?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You never.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;If it was not for me, you would not be writing this book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Let me have the last bloody word you bastard, after all it is my book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You do not have to like it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Well I do not like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I am allowed to. Parents rule 355, subsection (c)., you are always allowed to do whatever you tell your children not to do. When you reach my level of maturity, it gives you automatic right to be a hypocrite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Why, you used it before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty nine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;That is enough of that language son.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty eight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Likely story, anyway, I told you to leave, and never come back, or as some people say, fuck off and don't come back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty seven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;You asked me a question. I was just answering it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty six&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;There you go again. You have got to have the last bloody word.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty five&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty four&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Always have to have the last word, don't you. You never let me finish a conversation do you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh yes you will.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;No, I mean it this time, go away or I will never let you back again, and worse still, I will never speak to you again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;It is my duty son, to fuck you off as much, and often as possible. You will discover that on day my boy. One day, if you become a father, which is highly unlikely, but never mind, eh my boy?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twenty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Did you really have to tell them that just when this was getting interestingly confrontational? You really like ruining my life don't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and nineteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Get stuffed son. I am your father, it is my duty to look after you in times like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eighteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Look, go away, or I shall be forced to ring the Police and complain about trespassers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and seventeen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;No it is not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and sixteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Oh, thank you very much, that is the last bloody time you will appear in anything I do, you ... you ... you You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fifteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;That is alright, anything for a mate, you wee little filial of a drosophila wheel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and fourteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Thank you for that highly intelligent comment, you stupid pillock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and thirteen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Total and utter nonsense, that is what I say, talto adn etutr snseonen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and twelve&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Every word above was true, or I am not the man that thinks he is not the man I am not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and eleven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I was just thinking to myself, well it is a bit stupid to think to someone else is it not, that you have not actually read any of my marvellous pieces of poetry, unless you have been intelligent enough to go out and by one of my books of poems which is highly unlikely because none of them have been published yet, and that is a real shame, because some of my poems are just so fantastically astounding that you would never know that they were written by an insecure, paranoid, untalented little git like me, but that is part of the wonders of art, the fact that anyone can write anything they feel like writing, but only some have the true creative ability to make total and utter confusion out of a blank piece of paper, a confusion so confusing, so perplexing, that he, and only he, can know the true meaning behind the psychedelic, drug-crazed images he paints out of the simplest words and phrases of the most uninspiring language ever to exist, and yet he can still remain semi-sane while he describes the pathetic world of depression and drunkenness he sits in while getting aroused by the flames of virtue he sees in the lives of his strange and obscure friends that exist only as figments of his dreams and desires, or the passions of hunger he feels when watching rats crawl across the kitchen floor chased by partly flambed cockroaches to meet their doom at the hands of my kitchen wizz food processor, and when that all gets to much for me, I just slip in a couple of tabs, or pop a few pills, and get really out of it and imagine a life of reality, and that can be amazingly heavy sometimes, let me tell you, and then I try to concentrate on the things happening around me, but it is difficult because of the effort and brain capacity needed to attempt such a crazy feat, so I just slip into unconsciousness and dream of trees falling with no one to hear them, and then things start happening to my mind and it opens up and words flow out through my pen onto little pieces of paper lying around the place, and a poem takes form based around an idea and I get really excited and confused at what I am saying because it never makes sense until the last line, which is always the hardest one, when I collapse in a state not unlike sexual orgasm, breathing heavily with sweat pouring from every pore of my body, until I relax and then disappear from this life to see how the rats are cooking, and say gudday to some mates I met earlier in my affair.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"  &gt;day one hundred and ten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;No letters yet. Are you all as confused as I am about the strange happenings that occur in my head? I really need to know what exactly does take place in my mind, just so that I can feel like I have at least accomplished something in my life, instead of just sitting around and contemplating everything like philosophers do. I am a scientist, and I need to find the answers and have proof of these answers. But there is just one slight hitch there, and that is that fact does not exist. A theory can never be proven, only disproven, and that really cocks up life does it not?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-116183240294999701?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/116183240294999701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/116183240294999701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/10/end.html' title='the end'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115359589870366055</id><published>2006-07-23T07:17:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T18:06:02.853+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;As Black Francis, that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:city style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Boston&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt; short person, has been known to say, where is my mind? Take off your dress and send it to me.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115359589870366055?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115359589870366055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115359589870366055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-nine.html' title='day one hundred and nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115343062929685382</id><published>2006-07-21T09:22:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-21T09:23:49.310+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;It was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115343062929685382?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115343062929685382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115343062929685382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-eight.html' title='day one hundred and eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115334486775046285</id><published>2006-07-20T09:30:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-20T09:34:27.770+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Well, has anyone yet discovered how my mind works? If you have please contact me at any of the addresses mentioned previously, because I would really like to know.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115334486775046285?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115334486775046285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115334486775046285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-seven.html' title='day one hundred and seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115325949021908179</id><published>2006-07-19T09:50:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T09:51:30.230+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So many men, so little time. My horticulture teacher had that on a keyring of hers. If only, eh?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115325949021908179?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115325949021908179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115325949021908179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-six.html' title='day one hundred and six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115317677903675281</id><published>2006-07-18T10:50:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-18T10:52:59.050+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I had a thought last night, after a visitation from Jim Morrison (yes the Jim Morrison from The Doors, what is it to you). My thought was that artistic talent/inspiration and insecurity go hand in hand. One must stem from the other, but which one comes first? You see, Jim was an insecure person, John was insecure (especially at the height of his fame), Andy was insecure, I am insecure (and I am still waiting for my fifteen minutes). All amazingly talented individuals who are, or were for three of the four, insecure people. It is a scary thought, but one that unfortunately could very well be true. I just hope insecurity does not lead to excess, and fame does not lead to death. Maybe I do not want to become famous anymore. So much insecurity, so little time.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115317677903675281?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115317677903675281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115317677903675281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-five.html' title='day one hundred and five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115311063298230387</id><published>2006-07-17T16:28:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T16:30:33.000+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was talking to a friend yesterday about someone we both know, someone whom I dislike because he is so shallow and ignorant. But this person we were talking about is also very sexist and very racist, and I told my friend that I was also racist. He said that almost everyone is racist in some way, and that made me feel better about my racism, and it is also very true, which makes it even more poignant to the rest of you as well.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115311063298230387?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115311063298230387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115311063298230387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-four.html' title='day one hundred and four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115304407241824821</id><published>2006-07-16T22:00:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-17T20:44:07.360+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Today Nic told me that he and I were siamese triplets, the fourth one died. It was very frightening as you would well understand if you have ever seen Nic, not that he is ugly or anything, it is just that he can never compare to my amazing attractiveness without being called ugly. Compare him to anyone else and he might be good-looking. It was also frightening because he is not human, and I am anti-matter, and that is a really strange concept considering we are genetically the same. So much for science, eh? It is all just a load of hypothetical, theoretical nonsense with no intelligent logic or basis at all. That is why we are both currently studying BSc's at the moment. We need to find the real reasons behind our genetic existence, or in Nic's case, botanic decomposition.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115304407241824821?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115304407241824821'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115304407241824821'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-three.html' title='day one hundred and three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115292097033306115</id><published>2006-07-15T11:48:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T11:49:55.746+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span  lang="EN-US" style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;I had a new theory of the creation today. But to discover this you will have to read it in one of my books of poems, because I explain it in poetry form. The name of the poem is 'The New Genesis', and it is very good, with sound scientific basis, although it only explains the creation of the universe, and mentions nothing about life, but I will work on that. And when I have it all worked out, I will claim my Nobel prize (probably in literature or peace rather than any scientific category, but I don't care if no-one believes me. I know the world is really trying to get rid of me, but it won't work I tell you, because I'm a bastard, and I'm always going to be, so there).&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115292097033306115?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115292097033306115'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115292097033306115'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-two.html' title='day one hundred and two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115270706509447825</id><published>2006-07-13T00:21:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-13T00:24:25.110+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred and one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was just going through a pile of papers I have which contain little bits of inspiration from the past few months and I discovered this little rave about some Maoris. I am well aware of the fact that what I say will be taken as racist by many, unless you already are racist, in which case you will love it, and I would like to kid myself by saying I am not racist, but I can not. This is because I am. I am, however not proud of this fact, and only dislike certain members of these minority races (one being the group who I will talk about). I have currently, and have had in the past, friends from such minorities, but because of their different attitude to a large number of their type, I have been willing to befriend them and not be ashamed of it, or racist towards them. But, the question I posed myself on this day way back when was: why is it that Maori activists are the most intelligent Maori, and consequently, must have gone through the so-called pakeha systems they are now rebelling against? (Those of you who are not New Zealander's and have no interest in race relations might as well move to the next paragraph to lessen boredom, I hope (because I don't no what I will be rambling about in that one).) The answer I have goes like this. Surely there is something wrong with them, if they can use our institutions to their advantage when it suits them, and yet, later say that these very same institutions are anti-Maori and so forth, when these Maori's have actually proved them not to be. I coined the term 'racial hypocrisy' to describe this action. Dr. Ranginui Walker, where did he get his doctorate from? I bet it certainly would not have been got from a marae, or Weetbix packet, so it must have come from one of our racist universities, which can not really be that racist if they let Maori's get doctorates, can they now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115270706509447825?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115270706509447825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115270706509447825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred-and-one.html' title='day one hundred and one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115265534420571681</id><published>2006-07-12T10:01:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-12T10:02:24.226+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day one hundred</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;I have this theory. You know how a lot of Kiwi groups leave New Zealand in order to find fame and fortune overseas, and for some strange reason end up in Australia looking for it. Well, I think that our music fraternity must banish some of these groups to Australia because they just do not have what it takes to make it at home. It is only really semi-talented artists who go to Oz, while our exceptionally talented artists get rides to England and America. This can not be just fate. There has to be more to it than that, and I think I know the answer. It has to do with the fact that, generally speaking, the only decent Australian bands all have Kiwis in them to give the group that little edge. Well, there are exceptions like INXS (who are going down hill, proving they need Kiwi input), and Midnight Oil (who now actually have a Kiwi bass player). But the question arises why do we send these people to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Australia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt; in the first place. Why not keep their talent and use them at home? This is easily answered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;New Zealand&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt; radio does not give a monkeys about talent, especially good Kiwi talent. New Zealand is over-flowing with talent now, so we get rid of some of this talent to the Australians while keeping the best for ourselves. Makes sense does it not. But, you say, what about the groups who go to England and the States. Well they are another story. They are the really talented artists who a) have been commercially successful here, and think they have what it takes to make it there, or b) been critically successful (but not so commercially successful) here, and definitely have what it takes to conquer the world (if only those with the power had the brains to notice it). That is why such groups as The Chills, and The Verlaines, and The Bats, and The Clean, and The Exponents, and Straitjacket Fits have all gone on to bigger things overseas, predominantly in England. We can really scrub The Exponents from the above list because they had to wait to get back home before signing to a major international label, but England was good for their music and now they will conquer the world's airwaves. But, of course, we must keep some talent hidden from the rest of the world for fear of them being ostracised for their amazing talents and originality. I am of course talking about the likes of Chris Knox and his sometime duo Tall Dwarfs, and others like The Dribbling Darts Of Love, Let's Planet, and the Sombertones, and plenty more amazingly talented artists. It is a cunning plan if ever I saw one. Send some slight talent to Australia, just to make Australia look good. Send some proper talent to the Northern Hemisphere, to prove that New Zealand really is the be all and end all of musical talent (forget about Manchester or Seattle, the music/culture capital of the world id Wellington). And keep some talent at home just for our own enjoyment. Brilliant, if only I thought of it myself, we could have gotten rid of Dragon years ago.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115265534420571681?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115265534420571681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115265534420571681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-one-hundred.html' title='day one hundred'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115256718319442051</id><published>2006-07-11T09:31:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-11T09:33:03.206+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Do you ever get this feeling of depression when your parents come home from a holiday, or are you not privileged enough to have parents who, at least, biannually must take a break from us and cavort around the country, or the world by themselves. I often feel a bit let down when they come home. It is not because they have not brought me presents or anything, it is just due to the fact that I have gotten use to them being away and living a freer lifestyle, and then they come home and things change a little. I must admit, sometimes they only have to go out for the day for me to get a sense of real independence and they come home and upset everything. It is sad, but never mind, I intend to move out in the future, sooner than later hopefully, so I can feel independent. I will probably be glad to come home for a meal away from flatmates then. But hey, such is life. Eh!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115256718319442051?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115256718319442051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115256718319442051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-nine.html' title='day ninety nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115248264421047358</id><published>2006-07-10T10:02:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-10T10:04:04.276+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;Apparently the Israelis have discovered a link between myopia and high intelligence. Something everyone has known about for years, but these guys have proved it statistically. But they can not explain this link. I can. It is because you can not be perfect. You can not have good looks, artistic talent, intelligence, athletic skill, wit perfect sight. Perfection just is not allowed. Look at me, I am as near perfect as you can get but the bastards would not let me be totally perfect so they fucked up my eyes for me. What wankers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;ps i am sick of writing semi-unintelligible drivel which takes hours to understand properly so i have started using proper punctuation etc as you should have noticed if you are in the lest bit myopic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115248264421047358?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115248264421047358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115248264421047358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-eight.html' title='day ninety eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115243843190943982</id><published>2006-07-09T21:45:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T21:47:11.920+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;thank you emma&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115243843190943982?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115243843190943982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115243843190943982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-seven.html' title='day ninety seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115231685203797399</id><published>2006-07-08T11:59:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-08T12:00:52.073+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety six</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;god is god &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115231685203797399?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115231685203797399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115231685203797399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-six.html' title='day ninety six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115219361266217362</id><published>2006-07-07T01:44:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T01:46:52.673+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;well here we are again in this mean old town and youre so far away from me and where are you when the sun go down youre so far away from me said that already but the same thing is happening except this time it is something really important being printed not some shitty crap worth nothing i mean this is worth twenty five percent and that is not nothing i can tell you but i will not because i am sure that you do not want to know about the philosophical implications of darwinism do you oh you do well fuck off because i am not going to tell you read about it yourself you lazy little shit&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115219361266217362?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115219361266217362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115219361266217362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-five.html' title='day ninety five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115213822409813973</id><published>2006-07-06T10:22:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-07T01:48:24.530+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety four</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;i am currently studying ie back at university and as such i have very little time to set aside for writing menial little paragraphs in some stupid bloody book so forgive me if you do not hear from me for about ten months or so please&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115213822409813973?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115213822409813973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115213822409813973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-four.html' title='day ninety four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115196204395161879</id><published>2006-07-04T09:25:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-04T09:27:23.993+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;thank you mr descartes&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115196204395161879?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115196204395161879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115196204395161879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-three.html' title='day ninety three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115180172481270559</id><published>2006-07-02T12:48:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-02T12:55:24.826+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;therefore reality does not exist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115180172481270559?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115180172481270559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115180172481270559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-two.html' title='day ninety two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115171814115663238</id><published>2006-07-01T13:41:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-07-01T13:42:21.170+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;dreams are indistinguishable from reality&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115171814115663238?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115171814115663238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115171814115663238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/07/day-ninety-one.html' title='day ninety one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115162075402848568</id><published>2006-06-30T10:38:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-30T10:39:14.040+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day ninety</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;dreams are indistinguishable from reality&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115162075402848568?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115162075402848568'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115162075402848568'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-ninety.html' title='day ninety'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115153095913993510</id><published>2006-06-29T09:41:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-29T09:42:39.323+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;things in dreams do not exist&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115153095913993510?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115153095913993510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115153095913993510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-nine.html' title='day eighty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115144579991230410</id><published>2006-06-28T10:02:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-28T10:03:19.926+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;cogito ergo sum&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115144579991230410?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115144579991230410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115144579991230410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-eight.html' title='day eighty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115135824473991064</id><published>2006-06-27T09:43:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T09:44:04.753+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;computers are bloody marvellous weapons are they not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115135824473991064?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115135824473991064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115135824473991064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-seven.html' title='day eighty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115127331850887871</id><published>2006-06-26T10:04:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T10:08:38.510+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;bollocks&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115127331850887871?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115127331850887871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115127331850887871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-six.html' title='day eighty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115119566789866401</id><published>2006-06-25T12:33:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T12:34:27.916+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;the end of yet another thrilling page&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115119566789866401?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115119566789866401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115119566789866401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-five.html' title='day eighty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115110691722132871</id><published>2006-06-24T11:54:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-24T11:55:17.243+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;talking about english i am doing some in a biology course i am currently studying so you think it is strange do you well it is not because we have been looking at metaphysics and epistemology and stuff like that which is something we did in english the fact that i kept on saying what the fuck are we studying physics for trev was of no consequence but nevertheless we continued studying hawking and others and i still did not understand but now being an epistemological existentialist i am getting the hang of this metaphysics thing and trev would be proud of me even if it did take two years and an old taxonomist to help me out but never mind trev things could have been worse you could still be trying to teach it to me yourself and would that not be a real bastard ah trev you old hippie you&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115110691722132871?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115110691722132871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115110691722132871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-four.html' title='day eighty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115098337737206311</id><published>2006-06-23T01:35:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-23T01:41:59.216+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;neglectation is a crime of immense procrastination and vice versa what do you mean neglectation is not a word you ignorant little weaselly ignoramus it is a word because i just made it up so there and do not you hassle my english just because i failed all the english exams i er ahh failed which may have been two in my entire life does not mean that you can hassle my ability to make up nouns as i please and anyway what do you know absolutely bloody nothing because you have no brain cells you are immaterial you do not exist&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115098337737206311?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115098337737206311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115098337737206311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-three.html' title='day eighty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115089300643450714</id><published>2006-06-22T00:29:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T00:30:06.450+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;i feel sick i feel bloody sick my nose is constantly blocked and i have this terrible cough and my jaw hurts sporadically and it is bloody annoying because i sniff all the time and have gone through about five hankies today and i still have a few hours to go and it wakes me up at night so i do not get much sleep and i am tired and unhappy but it seems to stop when i get outside and start up again when i go into lectures and things which annoys not only myself but other people too and i wish it would just go away because i hate it and it is getting right up my nose &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;ps thanks nic you bastard it is all your fault that i am like this because i caught this off you at the tall dwarfs&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115089300643450714?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115089300643450714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115089300643450714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-two.html' title='day eighty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115084261259877776</id><published>2006-06-21T10:29:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T10:30:12.610+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;are you reading this or are you just dreaming that you are reading or are you dreaming that you are dreaming or are you reading that you are dreaming or are you just imagining it all and not really doing anything and more importantly does the world exist when you are not watching it or does it just disappear or are you really real or are you just dreaming of your existence and the existence of the world and knowledge and the universe and your wife and everything&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115084261259877776?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115084261259877776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115084261259877776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty-one.html' title='day eighty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115075537621137092</id><published>2006-06-20T10:14:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-20T10:16:16.226+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;people who are insulted by the fact that howard morrison new zealand entertainer middle of the road boring old fuddy extraordinair may have suffered heart problem because he smoked are silly little prats who are obviously ignorant of the damage that tobacco and smoking can do to the human body and i feel that people who smoke deserve all that is coming to them and i just think that it was wrong of people to criticise ash and consequently get an apology from them because of the fact that howard is unfortunately a well known public figure but this should not mean that medical fact can be insulting to him while not to other lesser known ie normal working class people is itself insulting and reeks of propaganda in as much as those people like sir howard are above the normal diseases of the rest of the country and that sucks and by the way george you are still a bastard and saddam you are still alive&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115075537621137092?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115075537621137092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115075537621137092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-eighty.html' title='day eighty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115066824000745784</id><published>2006-06-19T10:01:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T10:04:00.023+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" &gt;for those imbeseals amongst my adoring public who are struggling over the date of this historic event yesterday was thursday the twenty eighth of february and saddam is still alive and georgie is still a bastard&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115066824000745784?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115066824000745784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115066824000745784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-nine.html' title='day seventy nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115054717020109927</id><published>2006-06-18T00:25:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T00:26:10.216+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Forty-two days, three hours after the air offensive began the war is now over, albeit conditionally. America has won, Saddam has lost. Democracy wins again. Democracy always prevails. Saddam is still alive, but not for much longer one would presume. The Gulf is still being run by the Americans and for much longer one would presume.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115054717020109927?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115054717020109927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115054717020109927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-eight.html' title='day seventy eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115050271050405305</id><published>2006-06-17T12:04:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-17T12:05:10.516+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;war is not over now but it was a nice topical quote so I thought i would just slip it in because war could be over now but it is not yet because georgie porgie is such a bastard that he wants to prove that he can win something more than an election and will not put an end to this bloody literally and metaphorically war&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115050271050405305?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115050271050405305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115050271050405305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-seven.html' title='day seventy seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115040260768236085</id><published>2006-06-16T08:15:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-16T08:16:47.696+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;war is over if you want it war is over now&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115040260768236085?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115040260768236085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115040260768236085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-six.html' title='day seventy six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115032402517442853</id><published>2006-06-15T10:26:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-15T10:29:10.786+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy five</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;this is a pointless piece of stuff that i am writing just for the sake of writing in order that i will finish this sooner and the book will therefore be over much quicker but then again it might not be over much quicker because i might in fact write more and if i write more it will in fact take longer to finish than if i write less all of which makes perfect sense to me but because you are an illogical brainless stupid moronic piece of flea powder organic decomposable waste product it would be a very hard concept for you to comprehend and therefore you do not know what the fuck i am going on about so shut up and go to your little hovel you call home and extract some possum turd from your foot&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115032402517442853?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115032402517442853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115032402517442853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-five.html' title='day seventy five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115023535053033493</id><published>2006-06-14T09:48:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-14T09:49:10.546+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;i am still bloody amazed&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115023535053033493?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115023535053033493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115023535053033493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-four.html' title='day seventy four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115015140586805126</id><published>2006-06-13T10:29:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T10:30:05.890+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;peace is no longer possible&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115015140586805126?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115015140586805126'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115015140586805126'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-three.html' title='day seventy three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-115002755069594532</id><published>2006-06-12T00:05:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T00:10:38.240+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;there are too many bloody mcs in this world so why would einstein want to square them the stupid dead kraut&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-115002755069594532?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115002755069594532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/115002755069594532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-two.html' title='day seventy two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114994491177462916</id><published>2006-06-11T01:07:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-11T01:08:31.800+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;mick jones for i believe that is his name you know the man behind big audio dynamite well he would have us believe that he understands the theory of relativity because he did a song about it but i can not remember it so it was probably all bullshit anyway&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114994491177462916?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114994491177462916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114994491177462916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy-one.html' title='day seventy one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114986785296321985</id><published>2006-06-10T03:43:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-10T03:44:12.983+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventy</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;if great minds think alike why is it that only one man truly understands the theory of relativity you know e equals mc squared and he is dead anyway does it not make you think that someone is lying when they say that great minds think alike because i am positive that great minds definitely do not think alike and hence that is what sets them apart as great minds just look at all the great minds of the past century we have thomas edison the worlds greatest ever inventor if great minds think why is it that no one else could invent the electric light or the phonograph or any of the other one thousand and ninety five inventions edison patented and what about that great new zealander richard pierce or was it the wright brothers and dear mr igor ivanovich sikorsky defector who each invented forms of flight aeroplane and helicopter respectively surely any great mind could have done that if great minds think alike and then there was old adolf the greatest dictator of the twentieth century and hence obviously one of a very great mind so how come no one else decided to take on the world and lose it can only be because no one else had a mind as great as hitlers at that time or at least no one in power anyway and of course we can not forget the great minds of john lennon and lou reed who are were possibly the only great minds to think alike or at least along the same lines as each other and rewrite the book on popular music for the next generations to learn from and copy and stuff like that but generally i think that great minds do not think alike only that fools never differ&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114986785296321985?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114986785296321985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114986785296321985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-seventy.html' title='day seventy'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114983348389408415</id><published>2006-06-09T18:09:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-09T18:11:23.906+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;i went to a party last night and there was this guy there called duane and he was trying to drink one dozen beer in six hours for no other reason than to drink one dozen beer in six hours so he was doing it for the fun of it if indeed it can be fun getting so pissed out of your skull that the only thing you are really capable of is throwing up and you can hardly walk or talk and your liver is in need of some drastic cleansing like a stomach pump or something but anyway when i left duane was on bottle seven and was to put it sweetly fucked and had about three hours to finish five and a half bottles i wonder if he yawned technicolour like before two am the time he was due to complete this momentous achievement i wonder what carls carpet looked like because it was covered in spillages when i left and after duane finished i dare say it was in a bad state but never mind because it was not my carpet and that is all that matters is it not because we all know the golden rule of partying and so forth is to make as much noise and mess as possible as long as you are at someone elses place the more you dislike the host the more fun the party can slash should be&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114983348389408415?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114983348389408415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114983348389408415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-nine.html' title='day sixty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114975569911180883</id><published>2006-06-08T20:33:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-08T20:34:59.123+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;i am even more confused&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114975569911180883?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114975569911180883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114975569911180883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-eight.html' title='day sixty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114963168976899495</id><published>2006-06-07T10:07:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T10:08:09.780+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;i am still amazed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114963168976899495?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114963168976899495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114963168976899495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-seven.html' title='day sixty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114946125660855057</id><published>2006-06-05T10:45:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-05T10:48:27.246+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;peace is possible&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114946125660855057?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114946125660855057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114946125660855057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-six.html' title='day sixty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114937808701849661</id><published>2006-06-04T11:40:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-04T11:41:27.033+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;lou reed is the one and only&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114937808701849661?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114937808701849661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114937808701849661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-five.html' title='day sixty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114925839958587488</id><published>2006-06-03T02:25:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-03T02:26:39.596+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;john lennon is a martyred god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114925839958587488?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114925839958587488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114925839958587488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-four.html' title='day sixty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114921886657405833</id><published>2006-06-02T15:27:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-02T15:28:35.333+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;chris knox is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114921886657405833?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114921886657405833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114921886657405833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-three.html' title='day sixty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114912047683222223</id><published>2006-06-01T11:56:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-01T12:07:56.843+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;al bundy is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114912047683222223?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114912047683222223'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114912047683222223'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/06/day-sixty-two.html' title='day sixty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114903119853417073</id><published>2006-05-31T11:18:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-31T11:19:58.546+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;martin phillipps is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114903119853417073?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114903119853417073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114903119853417073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-sixty-one.html' title='day sixty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114893926659128245</id><published>2006-05-30T09:47:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-30T09:47:46.603+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;shayne carter is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114893926659128245?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114893926659128245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114893926659128245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-sixty.html' title='day sixty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114885131402719512</id><published>2006-05-29T09:20:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-29T09:21:54.036+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;pirated records cds and tapes damage your equipment buy only genuine wilbury records&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114885131402719512?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114885131402719512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114885131402719512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-nine.html' title='day fifty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114873747247069476</id><published>2006-05-28T01:43:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-28T01:44:32.483+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;andrew brough is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114873747247069476?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114873747247069476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114873747247069476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-eight.html' title='day fifty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114868535558607255</id><published>2006-05-27T11:15:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-27T11:17:01.250+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;guy chadwick is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114868535558607255?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114868535558607255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114868535558607255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-seven.html' title='day fifty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114859296398054530</id><published>2006-05-26T09:35:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T09:38:51.843+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:courier new;font-size:10;"  lang="EN-US" &gt;johnny marr is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114859296398054530?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114859296398054530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114859296398054530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-six.html' title='day fifty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114847366329568350</id><published>2006-05-25T00:27:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-25T00:30:03.243+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;morrisey is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114847366329568350?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114847366329568350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114847366329568350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-five.html' title='day fifty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114842441346511654</id><published>2006-05-24T10:38:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-24T10:46:53.480+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: courier new;" lang="EN-US"&gt;robert smith is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114842441346511654?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114842441346511654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114842441346511654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-four.html' title='day fifty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114830139640819366</id><published>2006-05-23T00:35:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-23T00:36:36.420+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;no it is not&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114830139640819366?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114830139640819366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114830139640819366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-three.html' title='day fifty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114824936276214295</id><published>2006-05-22T10:08:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-22T10:09:22.773+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;this is page twenty five line five word thirty two&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114824936276214295?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114824936276214295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114824936276214295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-two.html' title='day fifty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114818061631086252</id><published>2006-05-21T15:02:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-21T15:03:36.320+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i think i am not dead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114818061631086252?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114818061631086252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114818061631086252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty-one.html' title='day fifty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114804035797664680</id><published>2006-05-20T00:04:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-20T00:05:58.013+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i am amazed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114804035797664680?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114804035797664680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114804035797664680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-fifty.html' title='day fifty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114799881936075770</id><published>2006-05-19T12:32:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T12:33:39.370+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;did you find a conclusive answer to my question you did not what do you mean that the question was incomplete i thought it was quite obvious what was meant by it i mean when one asks why you give an answer and in this case the answer given should have been something along the lines of this the metaphysical reasoning behind the cerebral cortex only enhances the effect of the bright fractels while the cyclohalix configuration on the inner micropinocytic body not only reduces but also amplifies the electronic hues of the biomechanic sclerenchyma on the small but increasing cheesy mandelbrots which are in fact loaves of bread named in memory of nelson mandala but the crux of the answer concerns the biochemical compoundation of the minute follicle stimulating growth beads and their use in the makeup industry where it is assumed that the particles are in fact used in the manufacture of spare body parts such as aorta valves and renal capacitators and cellular antipedalism molecules and of course cephalocerebrospinaltorax protein for essential body metabolism processes or if you were really intelligent which you obviously are not otherwise you would have realised that the question was actually finished and you did not therefore making you the most unintelligent inarticulate ignorant moronic abiotic imaginary living thing that has ever existed on the face of this of this of this ah computer screen yes but if you were really intelligent and we have just proven that you are not by any means the answer you would have given would have been because&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114799881936075770?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114799881936075770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114799881936075770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-nine.html' title='day forty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114790505175295201</id><published>2006-05-18T10:29:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-18T10:30:51.763+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i have an unrhetorical question i would like you all to ponder therefore making it unrhetorical because if it were rhetorical i would be the one answering it but because i am asking you the question so that you may answer it it is therefore unrhetorical and the question is this  why&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114790505175295201?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114790505175295201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114790505175295201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-eight.html' title='day forty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114781762799247554</id><published>2006-05-17T10:01:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-19T12:43:53.003+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;a quote for all you discerning quote collectors out there in sightless reading land discovered on a concrete wall while cruising through this fair city of ours last night and it is a bloody good one and highly topical too it is this  war is menstruation envy  brilliant is it not i thought so and if you do not like this bloody war you should also think so otherwise you are a hypocrite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114781762799247554?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114781762799247554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114781762799247554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-seven.html' title='day forty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114774312745705421</id><published>2006-05-16T13:31:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-16T13:32:07.466+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i am unique distinctly exceptional and those guiness people agree you see they did not believe it when i told them i was the only blind man or organism for that matter that could actually see but they were astounded and overwhelmed and bewildered and even perplexed well they did not believe it anyway when they found out that i am the only living twins but obviously not ordinary twins but sort of underdeveloped siamese twins because i am in fact twins that is that i myself this one being does in fact consist of not one but two people making me very unique and rare and worth millions i already bought me some life insurance and if i die i will get five million nine hundred and sixty two thousand four hundred and three dollars and eighty nine point five seven two three one six cents which will come in very handy but because i am never going to die i will have to invent some insurance scam to get the cash anyways i am going on the cover of the nineteen fifty three cover of the guiness book of world records because of my uniqueness i just got told that today but i am no quite sure why the next one due to be published is not the nineteen ninety two issue but i will not argue with these great people&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114774312745705421?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114774312745705421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114774312745705421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-six.html' title='day forty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114764710820798082</id><published>2006-05-15T10:50:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-15T10:51:48.226+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;john lennon was shot in a cia conspiracy involving mark david chapman and john winston ono lennon and the central intelligence agency i dare you to prove otherwise bastard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114764710820798082?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114764710820798082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114764710820798082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-five.html' title='day forty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114752516197938012</id><published>2006-05-14T00:58:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-14T00:59:21.996+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;al bundy is good&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114752516197938012?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114752516197938012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114752516197938012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-four.html' title='day forty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114749064507699114</id><published>2006-05-13T15:23:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-13T15:24:05.086+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;al bundy is my mother i think unless i have been taught wrongly by that stupid wench of an excuse for a female they call my teacher and considering the fact that she is a woman then she probably does not know the first thing about kids in the first place she probably thinks that storks deliver them when you are not looking but everyone knows males are found in your dads jug of beer at the pub and females pop out the exhaust pipe of the car just when they are not wanted therefore setting them up for the rest of their existence ie always popping up when they are not wanted and never doing as ordered by their male betters just ask dad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114749064507699114?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114749064507699114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114749064507699114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-three.html' title='day forty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114734955465483048</id><published>2006-05-12T00:11:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-12T00:37:50.320+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;al bundy is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114734955465483048?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114734955465483048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114734955465483048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-two.html' title='day forty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114729970461640010</id><published>2006-05-11T10:20:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-11T10:21:44.630+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;al bundy is my father&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114729970461640010?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114729970461640010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114729970461640010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty-one.html' title='day forty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114721161345660696</id><published>2006-05-10T09:53:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T09:53:33.466+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day forty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;al bundy is god&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114721161345660696?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114721161345660696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114721161345660696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-forty.html' title='day forty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114712588494449252</id><published>2006-05-09T10:02:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-09T10:04:44.956+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i discovered something really interesting today it appears that i am the only blind person in the whole history of blind people right back to the very first blind person who can see is that not really amazing the guiness book people are flying over to see me they arrive tomorrow and they will do some tests and then if all is well we will do a photo shoot so it should be quite a fun entertaining sort of day hopefully what was that your mate the one you meet at the pub he was blind but now he can see yeah well that happens but what are you doing at the pub anyway you are not old enough to go to the pub i mean you only exist in this bloody computer you can not even move so how do you get to the bloody pub son oh i see it was a sort of hypothetical question phrased more as a statement rather than a question involving the fact that there have been recorded cases of blind people gaining their sight through either science or miracle yes i agree but they were blind and could not see now that they can see they are no longer blind whereas myself i am blind and can see that is the great difference between myself and these other people who are or have been blind what are you saying that because i can see i am not blind where did you get that ridiculous notion from oh i see the encyclopedia britannica well they tell lies because i am blind believe me after all i am going to be a politician and we politicians never lie do we you cheeky bugger how dare you say that politicians lie all the time you better watch yourself sonny or soon you will be getting a visit from my hand right up your bloody hard disk anyway we will let the guiness people decide whether i am blind or not and ignore that namby pamby thing you call an encyclopedia what right do they have to dispute my handicap my uniqueness my blindness absolutely bloody none after all they are only british what have they ever done for us here in new zealand absolutely bloody nothing that is right by the way as well as being an anarchist i am also a fervent anti royalist but i suppose you have to be do you not even though i was anti royal before i became pro anarchy but never mind about all that as i said before i am blind and i can see and that makes me the only person in the whole history of this planet to ever have this unique ability and therefore i am better then the rest of you even all you anti bourgeois proletariate working class people who are going to vote me into power come nineteen ninety three but then we could not have someone going into politics whose socioeconomic background and status and all that is actually lower than that of the people he or she god forbid is representing in parliament that is just not done but forget all that fucking political stuff for time being i am blind and you are not otherwise you would not be reading this bloody book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114712588494449252?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114712588494449252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114712588494449252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-nine.html' title='day thirty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114704133848829632</id><published>2006-05-08T10:34:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-08T10:35:38.500+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;this book contains thirteen thousand and seven words is that not amazing i find it incredible i also just happen to think it is a lie because i have just written thirty one more words which means the book contains thirteen thousand and thirty eight words but because i have just written some more words then that figure is wrong also it is in fact thirteen thousand and seventy two words plus eight this is really quite incredible you see the more words i write the higher the number of words in the book gets i wonder if anybody has told the royal college of exceedingly bright and nerdy boring scientists about this it must be a revelation and i must be in line for a noble prize in maths or physics or something and that would probably make me the first person to receive the noble prize in two categories which should make me exceedingly famous and rich beyond any anti bourgeois champions dreams and that would just be so fantastic&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114704133848829632?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114704133848829632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114704133848829632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-eight.html' title='day thirty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114695632852766108</id><published>2006-05-07T10:56:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T11:00:51.776+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;does wind fuck you off it fucks me off i went for a ride today in an attempt too increase my fitness for my hockey and it was supposed to be a northerly wind so i decided to ride to upper hutt which is roughly north of where i am living currently so that i would have the wind behind me on my way home and what happens i turn into southward leg and get hit by a fucking headwind from the fucking south so i had to put up with the wind changing between north and south on my journey home and it is fucking annoying but if you drive around in a car all day because you are an environmentally unfriendly person none of this would make the lest bit of sense to you so get out on a bike and do something good for a change  ps for those of you who know your new zealand geography i am currently living in a place called eketahuna which is roughly ten kilometres south of upper hutt which is roughly ten kilometres north of eketahuna but by the time this is published the old people will have kicked me out because i am a burden and i will be living at one of the previously mentioned addresses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114695632852766108?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114695632852766108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114695632852766108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-seven.html' title='day thirty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114690444872866594</id><published>2006-05-06T20:32:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-06T20:34:08.740+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;go away i do not want to speak to you today because you disappointed me with what you did yesterday and now we are not on speaking terms because you are a little cheating lying deviant what was that how can you say you did not do it on purpose you walked in to the place and looked on all the shelves and then walked out with it under your arm and you dare to say that you did not do it on purpose how dare you insult my intelligence like that how dare you buy one of those filthy magazines what ever made you do it i mean buying a copy of the personal investor and a copy of the economist it is truly disgusting and sick and perverted and unlawful and warped and offensive and vulgar i just do not know what could drive you to commit such a crime i really do not so i am not talking to you so go away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114690444872866594?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114690444872866594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114690444872866594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-six.html' title='day thirty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114677791559993811</id><published>2006-05-05T09:24:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-05T09:25:15.610+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i have decided to go into politics because it looks like a cruisy job you only work three days a week charge everything up to the tax payers get a whole lot of perks when the rest of the country gets none give yourself twenty per cent pay increases each year when the rest of the country are not likely to get even two per cent have a massive holiday over christmas or more correctly over summer and best still fuck the country so badly that it will take successive governments to fix all your cock ups and of course they will at the same time be making their own cock ups but that is government for you i say never trust the word of a politician except mine of course because i always tell the truth as you can tell from reading this here book so vote for me vote anarchy because only true anarchy can save us the world did alright before politicians and the bourgeois and it can survive without them so next election vote for me dranew lapmer the saviour of politics and radio stations and other stuff vote anarchy for a better world because to borrow a phrase we can rule as badly as they can and the world would be all the better for it fuck the government  ps i just discovered that my poetic skills can make themselves known even when i am not looking example my election campaign slogan vote for me vote anarchy rhymes you know each line is three syllables i will explain syllables later dilbert you dickhead and me and anarchy rhyme oh you know rhyme do you dilbert well i will not explain it later dickhead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114677791559993811?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114677791559993811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114677791559993811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-five.html' title='day thirty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114666104664466207</id><published>2006-05-04T00:55:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-04T00:57:26.656+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;look you stupid git we are almost half way through the twenty first bloody page of this bloody book so why do you not sort your bloody life out or just bloody go away&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114666104664466207?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114666104664466207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114666104664466207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-four.html' title='day thirty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114660700371142979</id><published>2006-05-03T09:55:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-03T09:56:43.723+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;this is a momentous occasion in my life and you should all feel proud to be able to share in it you see what is so momentous about this occasion is that very shortly this book will be twenty one pages long that is twenty one pages as the computer has them ie twenty one computer pages long and what is so momentous about that you may well ask so i will tell you you see i have never ever before in my entire lifespan of some nineteen and a bit years written anything this long ie twenty one pages using my own imagination i have not even written anything ten pages long before but i decided to wait until now before celebrating although i have done long school assignments but they do not compare to this at all so this is a very momentous occasion because we are now on the twenty first page of this book and that is just so incredibly fantastically amazingly remarkably awesome and i am so proud &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;ps please send all gifts of champagne etc to the address noted previously&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114660700371142979?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114660700371142979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114660700371142979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-three.html' title='day thirty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114652129562641201</id><published>2006-05-02T10:06:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-02T10:08:15.640+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i am writing a poem today and it is quite strange and should be in my book of poems and other assorted readings if the wankers will publish it but they are complaining that because this is not selling as well as they had hoped that they will have to consider publishing any more of my work very carefully and they would not budge an inch from that stance not even when i told them that i had not yet finished writing this book and because of that they could not have published it yet and it could therefore not be selling in the shops because it bloody well is not frigging finished and they just told me to bloody hurry up with it so that new copies could be in the shops by the weekend silly old prats and by the way i am also working on a song and i know what the title i would like to use is but i can not think of the word it is very long has lots of the letter i in it and is a noun and contains the word nihilistic or nihilism but i just can not find it in my dictionary so if you can help please send a letter to me at the following address dranew lapmer care of the only car equipped with a computer state highway one hopefully just south of otaki or west of bulls new zealand thank you ps you do not need to write thank you on the envelope because it is not part of my address thank you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114652129562641201?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114652129562641201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114652129562641201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-two.html' title='day thirty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114643736953237703</id><published>2006-05-01T10:45:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-01T10:51:37.320+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;well hey guess what good news you better hope the dumb bloody coppers pulled the wrong man it was not me that they wanted but some other geezer they just got mixed up when about mentioned my name when she was being interviewed about it and boy did they feel stupid and i of course being a sensitive new age guy consoled about because i did not know she had been raped until the police arrested me because we had not seen each other for a while so we left the court together and went and had some lunch and everything was just dandy mike was right you know we were out of there in less than half an hour and he kept his unblemished record and me and about spent the night together while the stupid incompetent moronic inept police tried to find the guy who really did it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114643736953237703?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114643736953237703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114643736953237703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/05/day-thirty-one.html' title='day thirty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114634317556738310</id><published>2006-04-30T08:36:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-30T08:41:21.716+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;warning: the following contains material in very poor taste, it may even offend, though it appears to redeem itself tomorrow (however dubiously)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;some time ago i told you that i fucked about during the day well the stupid bitch is taking me to court claiming that I actually raped her on at least one occasion which i suppose is what i may have down if you take into consideration the definition that lawyers have provided for us regarding rape which i suppose says something like the use of force and copulation or fornication or whatever word you may like to use as a term to define the actual sexual act with a partner who is unwilling to have sex with you and i suppose that legally i did rape about but she seemed to enjoy it at the time i thought but obviously she did not or otherwise this thing would not have come up but anyway my case is coming up in court tomorrow and i asked the counsel for defence ie my lawyer how long it would take and he seemed to think that it was a pretty cut and dry case and we should be out after a half hour or so the only problem is that it is cut and dry for the prosecution which means my ass in the slammer and a nice attractive intelligent kid like me could not last five minutes in jail without at least one proposition for a bed partner so i may have to change my plea to not guilty your honour so that the case will drag and my counsel can try and sort out a way of getting me off and together we are working on it we have come up with one or two ideas which may work but i am not allowed to tell you for fear of jeopardising or prejudicing the outcome of the trial but one has to do with the fact that about was only fifteen making her a minor and therefore not legally allowed to have sex no that can not be right that would just digging my own grave mr bungay hey mike little problem this about being a minor thing it will not work dickhead do you want to see me in jail or something bastard do you want to ruin your perfect record think about it mike just think about it anyway as i was saying i think i should get off this quite easily unless they can prove that we really did have sex and that we really actually know each other because i have an idea which might just work but keep it to yourself okay it involves me denying any knowledge of about and therefore hopefully getting off scot free but we will just have to see how things evolve in the case i hope the police do not have much evidence otherwise i could be really screwed quite literally and that would not be very nice but mike is supposed to be a good lawyer if that is possible and we should just be walking out tomorrow and not walking out into a police van is that not right mikey baby&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114634317556738310?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114634317556738310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114634317556738310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-thirty.html' title='day thirty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114625687579903781</id><published>2006-04-29T08:39:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-29T08:41:15.810+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;today mum mentioned something about putting some mandarins on the salad but i thought that would be illegal let alone cannibalistic i mean i do not think that i would really enjoy having some chinamen or any other race for that matter in my salad in fact the prospect of eating anyone apart from myself or someone else for purely sexual enjoyment slash pleasure would probably put me off my food for that meal at least and knowing my eating habits that probably meal only but thinking about it all that is just bovis skatos to mix my ancient languages and i really must admit to being a bit on the cannibalistic side i mean i must have pissed off a fair few sultans in my life considering the hundreds nay thousands of sultanas i have eaten and i have recently just had some afghans as well the way i am going i will turn out to be like those aliens in that peter jackson cult classic bad taste who come down to capture and butcher humans because they are the ultimate food source which must be true considering we eat just about everything good bad or ugly i will have to remember to put a halt to my craving pretty smartish oh and by the way the six of us because my family makes five and one more a friend of fegof my brother makes six altogether ate about a dozen mandarins they were alright but a bit on the small size that is the problem with the asians at least sultanas have a bit of meat to them&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114625687579903781?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114625687579903781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114625687579903781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-nine.html' title='day twenty nine'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114614107367945864</id><published>2006-04-28T00:23:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-05-26T23:52:15.470+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i had this marvellous idea the other day it was to search out nother book i started writing some time back fifth form in fact nineteen eighty seven a bloody long time ago it was called i am the bastard subtitled the secret diary of ramsford ingleburt pachmann aged 1 3/4 and was an obvious ripoff of the adrian mole diary stories because at that time the adrian mole stories had been made into a tv series and were being shown on local tv and it was this that gave me the inspiration to start writing this story which has in fact turned out to be the first of the unfinished masterpieces that i have written and now included in the second unfinished masterpiece i am currently writing because as this masterpiece is not yet finished it must be an unfinished masterpiece no matter what my intentions may be concerning the finishing of this masterpiece yes yes but as i was saying i did manage to find this and i also found something i wrote in the sixth form which must have been no do not tell me i know it ahh nineteen eighty eight yeah that is right nineteen eighty eight sorry but my memory is not what it used to be these things happen and you start going senile and soon the family put you in an institution with a whole lot of boring senile twits who could not even tell you the time of year let alone their name rank or serial number but all that is a year or two away for me at the moment unless i go really downhill and start acting like a politician you know dumb lazy ignorant and piteous which is something i sinceeeeeeeerely hope willl not happpen for a number oof weeks yet but you never know i could be struck at any time but away from all this nonsense this second piece of brilliant literature is really brilliant and i am not sure whether or not it is the start of another masterpiece which must make it my first and a half masterpiece if bastard is my first and this is my second but i feel that it also works quite well on its own and it may only ruin things if i try to add to it but we will just have to see later will we not and just to prove once again that I am indeed psychic please forgive any correct punctuation spelling paragraphing etc in the next two and further editions as I recapitulate these masterpieces to you which will make this book a sort of antithesis of the books of ben elton and alexei sayle where they relate a story interspersed with meaningful political and social comment this will be a book of meaningful political and social comment interspersed with story because if the mood takes me i may actually write some more of bastard and possibly the other as yet unnamed anecdote so you will just have to be weary of that will you not and take care that you are not getting my political and social comment mixed up with my story there I told you that i would prove to you that i was truly psychic and I just have by telling you that the next couple of writings you will read assuming you read them in the order written will be story correctly written story and if that does not prove to you that i am psychic i honestly do not know what the fuck will&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;I AM THE BASTARD - THE SECRET DIARY OF RAMSFORD INGLEBURT PACHMANN AGED ONE AND THREE QUARTERS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;       &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;It all started off when my father Police Constable Pachmann (PCP to his friends) was at a friends 21st celebrations. In those days they into everything - drugs, drink, the Beatles, flowers, and even Jesus. He wasn't quite PCP back in those days, about 2 years off it actually. It turned out that the parents of the young gentleman, in whose honour the celebrations were taking place, had bought the whole stock of the local liquor dispensary, a large crop of marijuana, a complete history of psychedelic music recordings, a few sheets of some funny little sticky label things to put in drinks, and a shop full of brightly coloured flowers from Interflora. It appears that the family had a dollar or two put aside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;As a result everyone got extremely high on a mixture of the drugs, alcohol and pollen. And consequently, as things progressed, my father, along with most of the other guests, joined in the participation of a huge sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll orgy. Unfortunately, for me anyway, the hosts neglected to remember that these were the times of promiscuity among many of the young people, and hence, also neglected to supply some very essential precautionary aids, and thus, there happened to be a number of accidents, well at least one anyway. My father got some silly slut pregnant, and because he fornicated, for want of a better word, with so many women that evening he managed to lose count after the first one (we assume that he did indeed have more than one) and could he remember who the silly trollop was? Nooo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Well nine months later and I arrived at his flat. He turned up some time later to see me all dressed in a cute pink knitted 1-piece outfit. I must admit rather modestly that I looked beautiful, a real treat. My mother had pinned a note to my quaint matching pink hat that read: 'Hi Pachs, here's your son, have him and keep him'. As you can see Mum was obviously very poetic, as well as a true fashion follower.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Daddy was furious, especially since he almost wanted to be a policeman. He tried to remember who he had fucked in the last nine months, he was good at human biology, but he never could figure out who Mum was. He rang Grandma, but all she said was what a naughty little boy he was. Daddy rang Moonbeam Laserlight his hippy plaything and she taught him how to put on my nappies, how to feed me, how to shut me up, and how to put me to sleep. Ms Laserlight (Moonbeam) looked after me while Daddy was at work. He worked as a courier for the local LSD supplier to save up to be a policeman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Moonbeam was really good and generous and considerate and compassionate and kind to me. I loved her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;On&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:personname&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;ce she even ODed on some china white right before my eyes, and what could I do ? I was only a year old, I couldn't even say 'cool man'. It was really heavy. This started Daddy up again, taking his old medicine - he had to go cold turkey because of his job, this time a policeman, but here he was doped every shift and me at only a year old crawling around the home on my own. That OD was fatal and that's why Daddy was doping and I was left alone. I think it was this that made me into the man I am today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;All those joints and tasty little stickers and white powder lying around the flat made me a very happy baby indeed. I was on an almost constant high. I got my pilots license, because I was flying so high I needed it. Then Daddy bought home that woman. She called herself Marianne, but everyone knew her as Jacqui. She was spunky and they did it in the floor in front of me that night, and it looked fun, I could see why Daddy did it so often.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;Well that's how I came into this world. I bet it was more exciting than your first year, eh !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: courier new;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;              &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;that was the start of my first masterpiece which was not very subtle or aesthetic but i was only young and that can be my excuse and now it is my first and a half as yet untitled masterpiece is coming up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;MY FIRST AND A HALF AS YET UNTITLED MASTERPIECE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;     &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;"No you silly bastard" said the man in the Italian 3 piece and mac, while miraculously standing under an umbrella with one leg on his upright briefcase, and the other cocked very much like a dog.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;That sudden outburst, which are very infrequent, was in reply to a question by a rather inquisitive young lad of 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="letter-spacing: 0pt;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;And what was this question ? Well, it had to do with the man's state of mind, and whether or not he could lend the boy 50 pence to buy an iceblock on this mild summer day.&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;After this somewhat offensive response the boy threw two wellies into the nearby lake, one scaring the feathers off a big black swan. The fact that these wellies were actually the property of the obnoxious man, made it all the more fun. But the man made no move to do anything about retrieving his boots. He only stood in the sun, under the shade of his brolly, swaying on his briefcase, and twinkling his toes at passer-bys, many of whom, for one reason or another, gave him a strange look; the sort of look you give someone who is doing something extremely strange in the park on a nice &lt;/span&gt;&lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;New Zealand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt; summer's day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;It really made no sense at all to the man in question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114614107367945864?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114614107367945864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114614107367945864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-eight.html' title='day twenty eight'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114609097117377305</id><published>2006-04-27T10:34:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-27T10:36:11.186+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty seven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;have you ever thought what a sorry state this world would be in if lou reed was never born there would have been no velvet underground and consequently no really good music well no really good unbeatles influenced music anyway and there would be no alternative music scene what so ever for good or bad because the velvet literally started it all along with the byrds and of course you all know what they say about vus first album the velvet underground and nico you do not well i will just have to tell you it it is short so do not fret they say that when the album was first released back in 1966 it only sold one thousand copies but the one thousand people who bought the album all went out and formed their own band and hence the alternative ie non commercial ie good music scene had begun and like most misunderstood sixties groups the velvet underground sell far more albums twenty years on than they ever did when they were together but getting back to the stream of consciousness i was on the beginnings of the alternative music scene was all because of lou reed it is really quite incredible what sort of influence one group can have on the whole history of music i mean the beatles and the velvet underground are easily the most influential puissant significant groups in pop uch music history and everyone should realise that because as has been said on more than one occasion there are two kinds of musicians today those influenced by the beatles and liars although more correctly that should read those influenced by the beatles those influenced by the velvet underground and liars but i will not quibble because the beatles are the most brilliant group to ever inhabit this earth and the velvet underground run a fairly close second and that must be so because as martin phillipps said to rolling stone magazine new zealand groups are largely influenced by the sixties especially groups like the velvet underground and of course you all know how good most kiwi groups are and if you do not well fuck off and take this book back to the shop because i do not need the likes of you unenlightened philistines making me rich or on second thoughts and better still rush down to your local record store and purchase the following on cd of course kaleidoscope world and submarine bells by the chills hail and melt by the straitjacket fits favours by lets planet three graces by the spirals south by shona laing the watertable by the greg johnson set any bats album its bigger than the both of us compilation album on propeller records and any flying nun and pagan records compilation albums of which there are a few and then you can not only make me rich but you can make a number of people slightly richer also i say slightly richer because currently being kiwi musicians they are all deep in debt anyway because they are largely ignored by the poor sods of the majority but will be eternally grateful for your support in buying their art but getting off this sales pitch is it not true that we currently inhabit a world where there are two gods although unfortunately one was made a martyr by the cia just as he predicted in song eleven years previous with the line one day they will crucify me these two gods are of course lou reed and john lennon although there is someone else going by the same name and it is not eric clapton it is that god fella he is exceedingly famous you know because he has got quite a few million fans and even a book in the best sellers list of all time so he must play pretty damn good but i do not think he has done any albums yet maybe he is just waiting for lou reed to approach him first but anyway would this not be a really extravagantly boring shitheap of a place to live without lou reed&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;ps sorry about all that sales pitch stuff but it does not distract from the fact that you should indeed go out and buy the albums&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;pps flying nun and pagan i hope the cheques are in the mail&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;ppps sorry about any harm i may have caused but it was only meant as a joke and i am not truly being purposely blasphemous because although i do not believe in god i am not an atheist i am in fact what they call an agnostic ie a prat who sits on the fence&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114609097117377305?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114609097117377305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114609097117377305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-seven.html' title='day twenty seven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114600630000138166</id><published>2006-04-26T11:04:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T11:05:00.003+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty six</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;well that was a bit of a shock to the old system was it not but it is always good to get things of your chest because it makes you feel a lot better and a word of advice to any one considering doing so do not give a fuck what your friends think and do not take their negative or argumentative comments too seriously and above all enjoy yourself and this is doctor babe ruth signing off for today with a cheery farewell god bless&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114600630000138166?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114600630000138166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114600630000138166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-six.html' title='day twenty six'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114591903645310972</id><published>2006-04-25T10:50:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-26T10:54:23.183+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty five</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i am not liking the route this book is taking and i feel the only way to add some originality some uniqueness is to add some marvellous controversy to be opinionated now you all know my feelings about that fucking war assuming you actually read that far but i do not want to go into things like how it is a humungus waste of tens of billions of dollars and possibly hundreds of billions of dollars and thousands if not hundreds of thousands of lives mostly innocent arabs and of course the fact that there is already one major environmental catastrophe and there will likely be more instead i feel like getting controversial over things closer to my heart things like the stupidity of commercial radio the fact that there is no nz music quota system of any size on ninety nine point six percent of all radio stations privately or publicly owned the fact that new zealand is now in the wake of an americana takeover in radio and television and hence we are losing our cultural identity and any hint of goodness local tv and radio may once have had and if all this is too heavy for all you mortal plebeians tough shit and now we will get into it starting with the growing american influence here because i feel like it you see on tv we have such kiwi americana as sale of the century and soon to be wheel of fortune and new zealands funniest home videos although the only trueness in that is the home videos bit because they are generally not new zealand nor are the particularly funny and it is just a cheap exploitation of mans willingness to laugh at the misfortune of others rather than making any sort of entertaining or entertainment statements and we also get through the box half a dozen shows again mostly cheap american cable tv video shows of cops or rescue workers on the beat or retelling tales of great feats of braveness and supreme courage they have to face in their daily lives and of course we get all the prime time soaps all afternoon and most of the routinely appalling comedies including among others whos the boss charles in charge wwf superstars of wrestling abcs gulf war coverage and family ties and all this just really sucks because it means that new zealand is not really creating an identity for itself by means of the arts because any talent this country may produce will inevitably scoot off overseas in search off the fame and fortune awaiting them and this americana thing and lack of identity is enforced by new zealand radio and certainly not helped by the lack of a music quota system because nz radio is being overrun by the american and hence sad trends in radio and it is only stations like the six or seven student radio stations and pirate fm previously 99fm who are doing anything remotely innovative and against the current grain of radio in this country and because radio plays a large part in what the public buys musically speaking and because the stations playlists are influenced only by overseas charts it is extremely difficult for any new zealand and hence bloody good music to make it on to commercial radio and that just enforces this loss of identity rather than doing anything positive especially when you consider all the crap that does make the charts both here and overseas and adds importance to the need for a quota on radio now i must admit that there are some acts who have received airplay lately from nz but for the most part the songs which are played are unfortunately remakes of overseas hits and therefore known to the listening public and all this does is make the station say hey look we play kiwi music we support the quota when in my opinion it is about as kiwi as the red deer ie it is not really kiwi music but an import which has just grown up or more probably down here and the good original kiwi artists are just avoided like they always have been and possibly always will be unless there is a huge shake up of nz radio which currently seems very inconceivable sadly for all concerned but that is america for you the place where every kid can grow up to be the president but where originality innovation ingenuity and imagination are looked upon as a pestilent sickness of an unhealthy perverted mind and this attitude is sadly slipping into new zealand culture and thus resulting in the loss the emigration and abandonment of all the people who are intelligent enough and talented enough to give this country back more than its sporting culture but something just as important if not more so its artistic culture we need a cultural identity to survive and if we do not get one we may just as well call ourselves new zealand the fifty fifth state of america after kuwait iraq and saudi arabia and that is something i most certainly do not want to ever happen in my life or anyone elses for that matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114591903645310972?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114591903645310972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114591903645310972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-five.html' title='day twenty five'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114583084282071131</id><published>2006-04-24T10:15:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-25T10:49:38.686+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty four</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify; font-family: courier new;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;you are a total pillock you are but i bet you already know that is that not right you are just so remarkably naive i mean to say you actually believed all that crap up there what a stupid prat you are it was all a load of methane excreting cow shit all that is except the bit about my being a government crusher and anti bourgeois supporter and in fact champion because i am because currently i am next to broke thanks to all those people who just do not or will not or most probably can not understand the real intellectuals of this world such as myself who are persecuted because of their acumen and that just sucks to the bone man&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114583084282071131?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114583084282071131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114583084282071131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-four_24.html' title='day twenty four'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114574745911141931</id><published>2006-04-23T11:10:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-23T11:10:59.130+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty three</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;i am not going to write anything today because i will not be inconvenienced so there see you when i see you but because this is a book and i can not see you nor you me so i will not adieu   ps it appears that graham lowe received my letter about my deciding to join the all blacks because he went into hospital in australia yesterday with suspected brain haemorrhaging sorry graham&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114574745911141931?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114574745911141931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114574745911141931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-three_22.html' title='day twenty three'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114561667367925284</id><published>2006-04-21T22:48:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-21T22:51:13.690+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty two</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;you are gullible ah i mean you believed all that poppycock malarkey gibberish rubbish about my being dead and then you were really unbelievably amazed when i came back and write not one but two fascinatingly riveting pieces while actually being dead and it is two pieces because as i said in the first piece i woke up today and was dead i must obviously have been dead when i wrote it because i have not had any really remarkable psychic experiences of late and therefore could not know that i was going to die but then you know all that right so i am just wasting my time telling you all this right yeah i thought so yeah so fuck you mate&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114561667367925284?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114561667367925284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114561667367925284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-two.html' title='day twenty two'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114547755087437016</id><published>2006-04-20T08:11:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-20T08:12:30.913+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty one</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;do you not just hate it i know i do you know when you have done something really stupid like exercise and sweated and it dries on your face and when you have a shower later all this salt water naclhtwoo washes into your mouth i really hate that I really do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114547755087437016?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114547755087437016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114547755087437016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty-one.html' title='day twenty one'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114540797990027120</id><published>2006-04-19T12:48:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-06-25T20:59:20.366+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twenty</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;when i woke up this morning i was dead have you any idea of what it is like to be dead it is a bummer man i think i might come back as a hologram of my original self unless of course it has been done which would mean my doing it would be really prosaic and trite but i have no evidence of it ever being done well there was al from quantum leap the tv programme you dumb bugger but he was just a hologram he did not die he just had an unfortunate experience with an experimental device and there was also his computer ziggy but was it a hologram or not and if so why have they not yet marketed it because it would be a really good present for all those yuppie technophile types i can imagine it now the ultimate gift better than a cd player for the car better than a portable cellular phone better even than a bmw 320i yes it is ziggy the portable holographic working computer there may however be a slight catch you may need to be a hologram to use it i will have to check with al so if i do come back as a hologram i will have no problems and if you do need to be a hologram to use ziggy the wondercomputer i am sure that no one will complain if we turn all the yuppies into holograms so that they can use it just think of all the extra money that will be put back in circulation and the environmental aspects of it less waste less carbon monoxide emissions the changes will be great someone remind me of it when i reincarnate please and now off on a totally different train of thought i have also come to the conclusion that unlike young mc i almost definitely do not come off even when i was alive i did not come off and that is a real bummer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114540797990027120?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114540797990027120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114540797990027120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twenty.html' title='day twenty'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114531282107876987</id><published>2006-04-18T10:21:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-19T12:54:24.473+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day nineteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;you know all that stuff i told you yesterday and i really mean yesterday about me now only wanting to be known as john winston lennon the second do not worry about it so you can revert back to calling me what you usually do you know boofhead bastard face fucking dick and all those other nice names you have used in the past because i discovered i am john winston lennon the firsts reincarnation and therefore as such i do not need to be called john winston lennon the second because just knowing that i am the reincarnation of the really famous john winston lennon as opposed to the not so famous john winston lennon ie myself is enough to satisfy me and i do not give a monkeys a toss a shit or anything else for that matter about what you may think and feel and just to prove to you that i am john winston lennons actual reincarnation i will recite a new song i have written for piano and drum and violin and called imagine it goes like this&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoBlockText"  style="margin: 0cm 21.45pt 0.0001pt 14.2pt; text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;imagine there is no heaven it is easy if you try no hell below us above us only sky imagine all the people living for today imagine there is no countries it is not hard to do nothing to kill or die for and no religion too imagine all the people living life in peace you may say i am a dreamer but i am not the only one i hope someday you will join us and the world will live as one imagine no possessions i wonder if you can no greed or hunger a brotherhood of man imagine all the people sharing all the world you may say i am a dreamer but i am not the only one i hope someday you will join us and the world will live as one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;it is bloody good right i think it is a guaranteed number one hit for sure it is definitely the best thing i have written in my short career as a song writer for sure and i am also working on something tentatively titled as in it is only a working title at the moment jealous guy but it is not yet finished a little sample though&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="margin: 0cm 21.45pt 0.0001pt 14.2pt; text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;i was dreaming of the past and my heart was beating fast i began to lose control i began to lose control i did not mean to hurt you i am sorry that i made you cry i did not want to hurt you i am just a jealous guy i was feeling insecure you might not love me any more i was shivering inside i was shivering inside i did not mean to hurt you i am sorry that i made you cry i did not want to hurt you i am just a jealous guy it is coming along quite nicely but it needs another verse i think something about catching your eyes and swallowing my pain&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal"  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;and I think that i will use guitar piano drums and violin on this one just to give a nice ballady sound next time i might have it finished and you should be able to hear it on my debut album the nerk twins for that is the name of my group album the adventures of bill and wally for that is the name of the album which will be an instant classic just like the album all or nothing the us remix album by those other misunderstood geniuses milli vanilli with such all time classics as blame it on the rain and girl you know it is true of which copy is found in every home in the western world right next to that other great classic the jane fonda workout tape but the nerk twins the adventures of bill and wally will be twice nay thrice possibly furice as good as even these eminently transcendent albums that means bloody good you plebeian philistine so you will just have to get hold of a copy preferably bought because if you steal it or worse still tape it off a friends copy you will not make me as rich as i should be and you could even help destroy the whole recording industry by your uncaring actions but i suppose if you were caring and did this the only thing you would be caring about would be your own financial state and who gives a shit about that i certainly do not well no that is a lie i do but only in as much as that you have enough money to buy the album which you should do at all costs even if it means having to go without food for a week because at least you will be able to enjoy the nerk twins incredibly extraordinarily awesome album so why complain look on the bright side your misfortune is making someone else ie me very happy and that should make you happy right&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114531282107876987?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114531282107876987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114531282107876987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-nineteen.html' title='day nineteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114524057588885817</id><published>2006-04-17T14:21:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-17T14:26:57.986+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eighteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p  style="text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;i actually cheated yesterday because i wrote two enchanting instalments instead of the usual one but i thought they were both very good and from the heart that it did therefore not really matter but i must admit to a little white lie there it was not two i did in one day but three because this was written yesterday if that is possible and i am not going to get into a deep philosophical debate with you about the possibility of being able to write something in the present and yet say that i was writing it yesterday which is in case you are exceedingly dumb and you are as well as being extremely gullible is in fact past that is yesterday is in the past hence the word yesterday which means the day before the one which is currently present or commonly called today but as i refuse to debate it i will stop so as i was saying i cheated and as such means that i might not see you for a few days hopefully if everything goes to plan but then again i might discover something really excitingly exhilaratingly inspired that i just have to tell you but i doubt it because i am now onto page ten in this thing and i have not actually had any excitingly exhilaratingly inspired thoughts except maybe in the sixth thingie when i said goob bye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114524057588885817?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114524057588885817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114524057588885817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-eighteen.html' title='day eighteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114514230428436959</id><published>2006-04-16T11:04:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-16T11:05:04.296+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day seventeen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;caution genius at work please do not annoy or it may be forced to retaliate by killing itself or cutting of its own ear i was thinking you know it is a funny thing any way i was thinking about us genius types we are often misunderstood individuals and persecuted because of it i mean look at all the misunderstanding over one of the most original innovators in late nineteen eighties music i am of course talking about milli vanilli who were so genuine so ingenious so creative so original that the world laughed in their face when it was revealed obviously wrongly that they did not in fact sing on any of their albums and the only thing they were credited with was their new incredibly erotic and possibly homophilic as opposed to homophobic dance moves it is truly a case of misunderstood genius talent and i must say that it is surprising that unlike many misunderstood genius people they have not as yet taken their lives i am however now just waiting for the moment when my genius sagacity and perspicacity are misunderstood by some total bunny that i can take my on life in some incredibly unique way of course and die for the cause that of all misunderstood genius types like myself and those two lovely individuals in the totally misunderstood music sensation milli vanilli next the bastards in the media will be telling us that the new kids on the block do not actually sing at any of their concerts&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114514230428436959?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114514230428436959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114514230428436959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-seventeen.html' title='day seventeen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114502205461078122</id><published>2006-04-15T01:40:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-15T01:40:54.620+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day sixteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;it is now time for a name change because i am now seeing parallels between my career and that of one of my heros if it is indeed a career that i am currently having although i greatly doubt that very much as i am not making any thing out of it apart from a long unconventional look at my life which is not so much a look at my life as a long unconventional creative novel type nonfiction tragicomedy chronicle style article picture book without the pictures about my deeper insights into the going ons in this crazy whole weird world to quote an incredibly unfamous new zealander which is not really surprising because there are not too many really famous new zealanders and you can believe all that shit about my deeper insights if you are all really that gullible and you probably are because otherwise you would have read the blurb on the back of this book and thought well this is obviously a load of bollocks and not have bought the bloody thing but just due to the mere fact that you did buy it or are at least reading it i can therefore deduce that you are in fact gullible but getting back to that name change i will now be known as j w lennon II where the j stands for john and the w stands for winston in my case a reference to peters not churchill because as i was saying earlier there are some similarities in the creative beginnings of myself jwl II and the slightly more famous if somewhat dead other john winston lennon like the fact that he did in fact write songs and also on the side poetry and other such material as i am currently involved in writing and was also somewhat involved in art about which i am currently assimilating some form of comprehension and it should also be said that once he became famous with his group the beatles or whoever it was some rolling stones clone anyway he had two books published of material that he had written over a number of years and received acclaim from the writing and publishing fraternity which was uncommon in his time when rock and roll was looked down upon by the upper classes ie those in the writing and publishing fraternity yes so as i was saying henceforth i will now be known as john winston lennon the second in memory of john winston lennon the first&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114502205461078122?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114502205461078122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114502205461078122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-sixteen.html' title='day sixteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114497483665904609</id><published>2006-04-14T12:33:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:33:56.670+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fifteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: courier new;"&gt;again i do not know what to write but i have decided that i will finish this and get it to the publishers as soon as possible so that i can reap the benefits of it as soon as possible by that i mean that i will get my royalty cheques and my booker prize and my noble prize for literature as soon as possible and i will be really famous and not have to do another days work in my life but there is one problem regardless of the fact that i have never actually done a days work in my life and that is that i really have no idea where this masterpiece is leading to as harry chapin says most great works of art have a theme that holds them together this one does not and for documented proof get his greatest stories live album and for that his estate now owes me five hundred thousand dollars for all the extra profits i will be putting their way but getting back to the stream of things i am hopeful that i am intelligent enough to be able to complete this even if it does turn into a scintillating ingeniously imaginative novel of epic proportions which will need to be published in about twenty three hundred page books which would make it a page or two longer than war in peace and possibly longer than the greatest book ever about the christian religion or should that be for the christian religion the bible and we never know it could sell just as well but i doubt it because after all the bible is the greatest selling book in printed history but mine will sell millions more copies because it will be relevant to everyone no matter what creed colour race faith or religion and therefore sell to all of them once we get it translated into their native tongue if they are stupid enough not to be able to understand the english language which is after all the most unimaginative language ever invented and is really quite boring and that makes all great masterpieces sound extremely boring when printed in english so i think i will start writing in german or french or maybe even russian if i can remember how to so aber es ist sayonara von moi neit neit das ist nichts die franzosisch oder die russisch diene gummifenstersteifel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114497483665904609?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114497483665904609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114497483665904609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-fifteen.html' title='day fifteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114488042007462742</id><published>2006-04-13T10:19:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:42:01.156+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day fourteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;i decided that i was going to join the all blacks today and even write to graham lowe to tell him the good news and i also decided that i was going to become really famous and i also showed this long piece of sentence well more truthfully two sentences to someone today and i said that i will get it published at some stage and he told me that i should which was really quite flattering because although i knew it was quite good i did not know if any one else would but all the same i think I will wait and show it to other people before rushing out after a publishing contract and i might even finish it first as well but we will just have to wait and see and see what happens because i might tire of it and decide to scrap the whole thing and wipe it from the disk which could be a catastrophe but i suppose it is all really a matter of opinion which means it might not be a catastrophe but then again it might i just really do not know but i suppose it is all really a matter of opinion which means i might know but then again i might not and this whole thing could be a waste of time and energy and all that sort of thing or it might just be a huge money making piece of modern literature about the realisation of one mans dreams to write a great work of modern literature which will henceforth be known as a work of art equalling the great pieces of literature like thomas the tank engine and postman pat and of course the greatest of them all and i mean that most sincerely the hugely successful spot series by eric hill which could make me millions and i could become the richest man in the world but that is pretty unlikely but it could still make me bloody rich especially if i include some of my poems or lyrics or whatever you wish to call them in the book but that would depend on how long this is because if this turns out to be an extremely long book like the history of the development of the super intelligent australian man it would be a wee bit annoying to have a set of really brilliant poems at the end of it especially if i could just put them in another book and make even more millions which would all be really logical and even make sense if it is possible for me to do so although i doubt it but i suppose it is all really a matter of opinion which means i might be able to make sense but then again i might not and just to finish i would like to ask your opinion on what direction i should take with this thing that is where do think i should intend to go with this do you think i should get this published as a book or what oh shut up i never asked you anyway and even if i did it would be pretty bloody stupid because you do not even exist and if you did it would give me even greater pleasure not to ask you than it does now you cynical little bastard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114488042007462742?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114488042007462742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114488042007462742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-fourteen.html' title='day fourteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114479170747621818</id><published>2006-04-12T09:39:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:41:34.393+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day thirteen</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;oh sorry that was not it this is it the beginning of the original second instalment in my prose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="" lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;well hey its me again and you know what i am doing i am waiting for the computer to print something for me again but it will not take as long as the last one because i have corrected it so it will hopefully look better and this one will fit on the page because although i did not tell you before the other one did not fit on the page because it was too big to fit on the page now that was exciting was it not and to all my intrepid readers who may be wondering why it seemed that i had some punctuation a few lines ago will be pleased to know that i only did it to please them so that they would instinctively realise that i had in fact started writing this new piece at a later time than i wrote the previous piece which would all seem quite logical as it would in my opinion be rather stupid to relate a tale with what may be the end being related first and what was definitely the beginning being related what may or may not be last but as i say that is only my opinion and you my dear stupid pathetic no hoper of a reader may indeed have some differing opinion which i would only be too happy to not listen to but shove down your throat or up the place where the sun does not shine you moronic irrelevant miserable wretched piss of camels ear wax who would not know an incredibly insulting remark about his unfortunate incapability to inhabit these inexplicably immaculate islands of ours if it jumped up and relieved itself in his inner ear and wasn't that exciting having an alliteration of words all beginning with the letter i and by the way everything has gone rather quiet now because the printer has stopped which must mean that what i was waiting for to be printed has actually been printed so i feel it my duty no honour to sign off now with one further insult&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114479170747621818?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114479170747621818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114479170747621818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-thirteen.html' title='day thirteen'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114470655393082300</id><published>2006-04-11T10:00:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:41:10.336+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day twelve</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:&amp;quot;;"  lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;they are here it is here whatever you know that thing i told you about last time well i have got it just so you can read it and laugh or most probably get confused so here it is the original second instalment of dranew lapmers brilliant prose by the way it is due to start just after a big gap in the line coming up pretty soon ah well look this could be it now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114470655393082300?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114470655393082300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114470655393082300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-twelve.html' title='day twelve'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24825252.post-114464111529714936</id><published>2006-04-10T15:50:00.000+12:00</published><updated>2006-04-14T12:40:52.793+12:00</updated><title type='text'>day eleven</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: courier new; text-align: justify;font-family:courier new;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;neglect is bad especially when it is neglect of a good friend but i am truly full of remorse and so very sorry but i have just been reading through all this stuff that i have just been reading through that i have just been reading through that i wrote over the past number of days and noticed a few interesting facts firstly that the pieces have tended to lessen in size therefore pointing to my lack of creative genius for writing lately and secindly that while i started explaining why i was pissed off in my second episode i did not finish the explanation which concerns the fact that i had written something fairly marvellous but for some reason was not saved in this file and therefore i thought it was lost for ever and that was my reason for being pissed off but it appears that it could be in another file and you may soon have the chance of reading it although a lot of it is very similar and along the same lines of the aforementioned article but because it was the first such writing it makes it the original and as we all know nothing beats the original so next time you may be going back in time to the original second episode of dranew lapmers brilliant narrative anecdotal story picture book but without the pictures&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/24825252-114464111529714936?l=i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114464111529714936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/24825252/posts/default/114464111529714936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://i-wish-i-was-here.blogspot.com/2006/04/day-eleven.html' title='day eleven'/><author><name>microphen</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09514212225302115291</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://www.acpalmer.com/old/galleryimages/blogshot.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
