The ears have walls

Saturday, July 23, 2005

She's gone. I warned you that would happen, didn't I? yesterday - the morning after we held our housewarming party - I woke up to her lying on her side and staring blankly out the window, refusing to meet my gaze and making it patently obvious that something was bothering her. After some gentle questioning (which felt a bit like poking a sleeping lion through the bars at the zoo) she blurted out that she was thinking of leaving.

"If you want to leave, then leave." I replied
"I'm not talking about Paris at the end of the year. I mean now. Today"
"Neither am I" I replied. Stupidly, knowingly.

And so she left, but not that day.

I spent the next two evenings (our last together) piecing it together and trying to construct a form that would hold all my feelings of inadequacy and resentment and sheer fucking blinding love that were battling it out in my head and heart. I walked the streets in the city centre, headphones on listening to Interpol and wishing I had Paul Banks' left-handed literacy and the immediacy of their music so that I could change her mind. All this was being done secretly though. I told her that it was me who was cutting her loose, that it was my decision and it was my ideals of self-preservation that had to be realised now. I told her all this in a tearful speech - her in bed freshly awoken and me leaning up against the window - and as usual the upper hand was wrestled from her as I tried to turn the things she said against her and play the innocent and heartbroken victim. My life, my right, my soul, my loss etc... So fucking lame when I think about it now. She saw right through it of course, as she always did.

And so she left.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Things seem to be improving between her and I. Maybe the beautiful summer weather we've been having the last few days has contributed to the all-round good feelings that we've been sharing. The way she looks at me in the mornings takes me by surprise every time. It's a look somewhere between mewling kitten and bengal tiger and it hits me right in the goddam pit of my stomach each time she does it. And she knows that it has this effect on me. I'm sure she knows it would have that effect on any guy in the fucking world. She's so sure of herself sometimes and it frightens me to think that she suckers me so easily. There's a sweetness and fragility that follows her around. It's ephemeral and fleeting but at times encompasses me to the point when I can think of nothing or no-one else. I'm a thief in bed at night and my bounty sleeps quietly opposite me unaware that I'm stealing a little bit of her with each glance and midnight kiss. I love the girl that she wants to be and the boy that she sees in me.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

This is broken

This site is dedicated to making "..businesses more aware of their customer experience, and how to fix it". Sound like a boring consumer complaint website? Well, it isn't. It's a homage to poor engineering and horrible design and some of the comments posted are hilarious and intuitive. The thinking man's Engrish.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Free legal streaming zombie action

You can stream (or download) George A. Romero's classic zombie flick 'Night of the Living Dead' in it's entirety here. The files on the internet archive are part of the Creative Commons Public Domain and as result "...may be freely reproduced, distributed, transmitted, used, modified, built upon, or otherwise exploited by anyone for any purpose, commercial or non-commercial, and in any way, including by methods that have not yet been invented or conceived." So stick that in your pipe and smoke it buddy.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Can female contraception cause mood-swings? "Yes" says the enclosed warning leaflet on the packet of Femidene birth-control pills that she's taking. She offers this as an explanation for recent strange and unpredictable behaviour as well as her complete loss of interest in the carnal pleasures of our relationhip. Alright. That I can deal with. What I was having serious problems accepting was the fact that she didn't want to fuck me because she wasn't attracted to me, or because I didn't know how to touch her right or because her ex-fucking-boyfriend had a 10" dick to go with his self-effacing continental personality and she couldn't stop thinking about it when her and I were warming up before the final act. Pride does indeed come before a fall and I got a feeling I'm going to be falling a long, long way on this one.

Monday, July 04, 2005

I don't know why she makes me feel the way she does. It's as if I can see exactly how this is going to end - the tears and desperate phonecalls and bottomless longing that weighs on me and pins me to the ground - and yet I just can't stop myself or pull myself away. This is not a feeling I'm comfortable with but yet the more helpless I feel the more I find myself drawn to her and it's like being in a car-wreck that you know is happening and everything is in slow-motion and there seems to be these moments of lucidity when you realise that it all is going to shit.
We met under the strangest of circumstances. I took a liking to one of her friends in a bar the night before St. Paddy's and hardly noticed the small, beautiful girl trying to meet my gaze from across the room. A week or so later and an anonymous message on my phone asking me to meet her led to a frenzied and secretive affair while her friend was in Tunisia on business. I suppose a relationship that started in such dramatic circumstances could only lead to heartbreak. Initally, my idealism fuzzed my usually pragmatic approach to these kind of things and before I knew it I was off to Paris to meet her parents and arranging for us to take an apartment together in Dublin. She would find some work, and we could spend our off days curled on the red couch watching bad movies and smoking cigarettes on the little balcony while the endless rain beat rhythmic patterns on the sliding glass door.
These things still happen, but now we're suspicious and easily offended. Little annoyances become arguments and lead to threats of leaving and accussations of infidelity. My time is running out with her and there's nothing I would rather do than try to make her happy every day of the rest of my life. I just know she feels the same. I just know she'll come around. All I can do for now is wait.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

Paris Noir

Read this surreal and ultimately sad essay by Miles Marshall Lewis about a cold and overcast day spent walking around Black Paris accompanied by his illiterate Parisian guide.

Today we walk through Saint-Georges and Montmartre to Pigalle, the seedy ninth arrondissement neighborhood central to black expats from 1910 till around the Great Depression.

"You're cold, chéri?" "Non, Cissine, not at all."

I'm freezing. I'm wearing a CBGB T-shirt, a beige Nehru jacket that I refuse to wear slung over my shoulder. I left our apartment in a rush, not realizing the jacket matches my tan hemp jeans perfectly.

Click here for the full text.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

What's inside Lucy?

Have you ever wondered what your favourite cartoon character's skeleton might look like? These disturbing but beautifully drawn sketches will soon satisfy your longing.


The worst typo in history?

A Taiwanese stock trader made an uber-fuckup when she mistakenly bought $251 million worth of shares with a keyboard misstroke. However, not all is lost at Fubon Securities:

"There is a paper loss of more than $400 million [....] However, with a good outlook for stocks in the second half, there are no plans to sell the shares in the near term."


Friday, July 01, 2005

If.. and only if..

... you are one of the people in this cobrasnake picture set taken at Saves in LA on June 18 then email me and I will send you a prize. Yes, you heard me correctly. I'll give you free shit just for being one of the hopelessly hip and tragically beautiful humans who managed, through a mishmash of really good genes and insider-nods-and-smiles, to get your eternally youthful gob posted on the internet for all the world to see. I will require you to send me a copy of your drivers licence or passport to back up your claim. Once a definite match has been found I'll send you something in the post. Don't believe me? Fuck you. I'm a man of my word. Wait and see. philtom [at] o2 [dot] ie