Now that October’s Gashlycrumb Tinies-esque experiment is over, I can return to normal blogging, which is a relief. I’m not the most topical of bloggers, but I do like to be able to react to current events.

On the apparently sandwich-eating-featuring twitter, Patroclus and myself discussed there being a possibility of there being a Pulitzer Prize for citizen journalism, with a potential prize made out of sweet wrappers. To avoid getting sued and to make the name more intertubey, it has been changed slightly to that above.

What with me supposedly doing the old National Novel Writing Month, blogging should be lighter this month, so what I’d like is your suggestions of your favourite bits of citizen journalism.

It can be anything you like really, just something interesting off a blog really.

Who knows, this may become a regular feature, if I can be bothered and I get enough suggestions (hint hint)

Well this is it. I have spent a whole month going through the alphabet with blog post after blog post.

How was it? Well it was a mixed bag, to put it mildly. The fact that I HAD to do the blog posts (I’d promised) provided my incentive, but reading through the whole thing, I can really see the dips where I just couldn’t be bothered. I’m not sure they’re visible to anyone else, but I can see them (it’s like hearing a recording of your voice) and they make me cringe every time.

Blog posts should, all being well, be rather sparse in the next month as I will be attempting to write a novel. I have tried this twice before and have failed both times. I don’t think I will succeed this time, but the aim is get much nearer this time.

If I completely fuck it up then blog posts will be forthcoming. In an ideal world, I will still be doing blog posts as a break. As to how many, I will see.

See you on the other side.

My knowledge of Greek musicians is rather limited. I’ll admit not to having heard of this Γιάννης Χρυσομάλλης fellow. I am familiar with Ευάγγελος Οδυσσέας Παπαθανασίου but that’s about it.

According to Wikipedia:

His music is frequently described as “new age, though he prefers the term “contemporary instrumental”.

I can’t say I blame him. Here’s one of his tunes:

Love Greek moustaches.

X is always a problem when you are compiling alphabetical lists.  Recall those lists with pictures you used to get as a child, often they’d end up with some odd word like “xylophone” or “xenophobia”*

Likewise with this experiment the same problem rears its ugly head. I didn’t end up cheating and using words like “eXtra” or some similar monstrosity, but I am hampered by my lack of knowledge of “xenon flashes”.

I know what xenon is, it’s a noble or inert gas, but I’m not sure if it flashes. Surely it is neon that is the flashing neon gas, if such a designation is allowed amongst chemists.

* I may have made that one up.

Writing a list of things to do is a good start. A good start to the list is “actually sort out some of this appalling fucking mess” and then breaking it down into areas and types of fucking mess.

Makes the job more palitable.

It also has the advantage of delaying the moment at which clearing up the mess must commence. For added delays, try adding things like “make a cup of tea”, “drink a cup of tea”, “take you shoes off and put them on the coffee table”. This makes the list longer and as everyone knows, a longer list is better. Especially if you can immediately tick off several items on it.

Greek yogurt.

Tinned peaches.

Bread.

Pickled onions.

Tomatoes.

Chick Peas.

Butter.

Lettuce.

Gherkins.

Cheese.

Quiche.

Garlic Bread.

Erm… ice.

Now what do I do with it?

I have been given 2 sets of U-Z suggestions. I will therefore alternate. Thanks for those!

That’s a bit off, I couldn’t help thinking, then realising I was in danger of becoming a stereotype. I vowed never to finish a sentence with “pip! pip”. After all you can’t be too careful.

I’ve been stressed. But never filmed doing it, thankfully.

Still he resigned. Before he was pushed. In front of a train.

This is my last letter. If anyone is still reading this, I’d like some suggestions for U-Z please. Nearly finished. *takes deep breath*

As this experiment enters it’s final week (6 more to do after this, folks. I bet you’re all sighing in relief, that’s if there’s anyone still out there reading this increasingly prolific drivel) I feel like I can start to reflect on how it went.

It went okay.

I thought I was never going to make it, that the whole thing would peter out, but dammit I said I was going to do it and do it I am doing.

I had grander plans of course, don’t we always? Subverting the form and such like, coming up with ever more wonderful blog posts and managing to do it every single week day into the bargain.

It wasn’t to be though.

That said, I’m glad I did it. It give me some meaning in my otherwise pointless life and enabled me to indulge myself without worrying about the consequences.

It’s like the end of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, this.

And I need that like I need a hole in the head.

hur… hur… sextant.

You see, it has the word “sex” in it so therefore it must, under pain of SEVERE emasculation provoke childish sniggering in all who come across it.

hur… hur… come.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Jonathan Richmann’s Roadrunner is the greatest 2-chord jam ever. I’ve never been tempted to visit every place mentioned in the song, but someone else has.

In Lipstick Traces, Griel Marcus writes about it and describes the final minute where Richmann abandons all narrative and shouts out random words from earlier in the song.

Like this:-

In love with massachusetts
I’m in love with radio on
like the roadrunner
o.k., now you rock & roll late at night
the factories and modern rock & roll
modern girls and modern now
roadrunner, roadrunner
going faster late at night
I don’t feel so bad now in the welcome to the spirit of 1956
patient in the the turnpike, got the
I’ve got the, got the shop
with the radio on at night
and me in late at night
it helps me from being lonely suburban speed
and it smells like modern massachusetts
I’ve got the world, got sing modern lovers

(radio on!)
I got the moonlight
128 when it’s dark outside
I’m rock & roll
don’t feel so alone, got the once
roadrunner twice
I’m in love with rock alright
I’m in love with modern the radio on
it helps me from being alone & roll and I’ll be out all on
like the roadrunner
that’s right

said power of massachusetts when it’s late at night
roadrunner
that’s right

well sounds
alright the
(radio on!)
got the rockin’ modern neon massachusetts, got the
(radio on!)
I got the power of the am
got the, late at night, (?), girlfriend as you go by quick
suburban trees, am
(radio on!)
got the am sound, got night
(radio on!)
I got the modern sounds of miles an hour
gonna drive to the stop ‘n’ the auto signs got the power of modern car
don’t feel so alone, got the radio heaven(thunder)
and I say roadrunner sound
(radio on!)
I got the car from love with modern moonlight
me in love with bushes next to ‘57
the highway is your am
(radio on!)
got the car, got the

Actually it isn’t like that at all, that’s my William Burroughs-style cut-up  of the lyrics.