The funniest damn beat poem I’ve heard in a long while. If you want a giggle and have six or so minutes to spare, give it a listen. Heavens above, this is fantastic :D
Part one of Llewellyn’s Knuckle has finally been posted online. Being the opener to the fic, not much actually happens, but I hope it at least proves an entertaining read (if your eyes are willing to put up with cream text on a charcoal backing; if not, I recommend you copy and paste it to your word processing software of choice and read there).
1. What’s your name/blog name? 2. What’s your blog’s URL? 3. Write “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog”. 4. What is your favourite quote? 5. What is your favourite song? 6. What is/are your favourite band/singers? 7. Anything else you want to say? 8. Tag 3 bloggers to participate.
My cover with my friend of Whistle for the Choir by The Fratellis.
I be quite proud of it. Don’t be too harsh.
So you know that time when I thought that my friends couldn’t become any more beautiful as people?
Yeah. Then I found this through a stalking experiment*, and Yaz’s voice is all deep and Frankie’s voice fits it so well and I could just listen to this all night (Could? Ha! Will) and it’s just so perfect and they’re perfect and I can’t even
and I love you both for the fact I constantly find new ways to marvel at you.
They had this whole corridor with posters for each club and society there and they covered so many things; just about every language represented (including French Soc, which would be awesome for me), most nationalities represented (including Cypriot Soc, which would be awesome for Yaz, and Kenyan Soc, for Mistry), all faiths represented of course, all music tastes, all gastronomical fancies (even a Real Ale Club) and just ugg, it looked brilliant. I was really impressed and I can definitely see myself there.
Cheers for hosting, Nottingham. It was tiring but it was damned good :)
Now excuse me while my blog continues its Elbow-centricity for the next half hour
You’ll find your politics folder and everything will sort itself out.
But even if it does all go tits-up — which it won’t — remember that you don’t need politics to become a satirist and, let’s face it, that’d be a far better choice :D
You’d get to slag off everyone and get called witty and sophisticated; you wouldn’t need to back up your opinions because they’d be drowned out by vociferous laughter; you just need to read the papers once a week for “research” and then you’re done.
Joe :: nineteen, straight, taken, maths student, London periphery. I go by joedoesnumbers, formerly joe-blogs and ithrowthistothewind.
Elbow, Frank Turner, Shane Koyczan, Panic! at the Disco, Kings of Leon, Jack's Mannequin, Florence + the Machine, Laura Boyle.
Doctor Who, Sherlock, HIGNFY, WLIIA?, Peep Show, Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet, The IT Crowd, Garth Marenghi's Darkplace, Father Ted, Futurama, and occasionally HIMYM.
Guy Garvey's Finest Hour (especiallybecause, once, the song I recommended gotplayed). Here's some proof
Gaunt's Ghosts, Eisenhorn, Ravenor, Dan Abnett, Warhammer 40K, reading, writing, maths, French, physics, semi-colons in texts, correcting bad grammar, too many annoying habits, missing the past.
I follow back (most of the time). I'm that cool.
...and finally: I spent 2011 writing a poem each day, every day for the entire year. You should check that out.