Things what I writ

I sometimes write nonsense about things to try and sound clever

thus spake consolidation monkey

from a cosa nostradamus type moment of epiphany while making photoshop 5 eat layers of pasta did spew forth the penetrable missive from the future of the potato of business proposition:

You know what it’s like. Got eggs all over the place. This egg is your marketing egg. This egg is your commerce egg. You’ve even got eggs for partners and suppliers. But what you really want is to make a great big omelette with all your eggs so your customers can sit down at one big table and stuff themselves. You want Spanish omelette. You want French omelette. You want a Service Provider omelette with dynamic mushrooms and on-demand data parsley garnish. Well, the solution is here. Sun Dynamic Egg Consolidation and Omelette Rendering enables you to leverage all your enterprise eggs in one great big virtual frying pan. I tell you, it’s f**king great. My Mum’s got one already.

No change there then. So taaake mee in your aaarrms agaaain, I’ll sell my soooul, what is it wooorrrrth?

headphone calamity aversion therapy

no no no. that can’t be true. tween megane and changing room I’ve flipped my foam into some crevice whereupon I now crawl in vain to trace myself backwards and salvage my right ear. there can be no pounding in front of loose women with a plastic rattle imbalance and a tin acoustic experience that simply won’t do I’ve come all this way. take another look. its that fleece. its all electric. it got toasted. no. hang on, its here somewhere.

I give up. I resign myself to a double plastic burn cavity scenario which might make me go faster to get it over with its not so bad so smashing pumpkins will be inaudible but at least the rest of them will now hear it too. no. but wait. what’s this in the gutter twixt athlete’s foot and wet towels. that’s neary a grey pad from someone’s ipod. they’re probably upstairs right now trying to row to devon with a white plastic tinitus fiddling around their canal. its only got a bit of wax on, that’ll scrape off. lets try it for size. ooh. perfect. and now I have different colours for left and right, just like my shoes. let’s get treading dixie chicks. avast!

35 minutes. I’m not cycling. maximo park.

bloc party claustrophobia engine

‘its great to be here you’re our most vociferous audience’. that’s not something I would have heard coming from Alex Turner’s curled lips. I mean, he might of said something about it being ‘right mental an that”, but he wouldn’t have stretched into the guardian educational supplement territory of crowd participation in quite the same way as the sweaty stick body of Matt Tong. such was the squall of intellectualism in the air last night as it was sucked into the lungs of 15 year olds with leather handbags and a propensity to text their mates through the second album and mingled with marlboro lights and blown straight back into the vault of the lower claustrophobia room for the rest of us in ingest as we combusted spontaneously with every wave of our arms.

not since the NME tour was there as many first timers squeezed into that space ‘so excited they might just do a little wee’ and as things progressed towards their artsy denouement we were collectively scanning for escape routes as we honestly felt we may not actually survive the next 90 minutes with having our miserable lives crushed out of us and what would mum do she’ll be waiting by the car park. we’d endured something like a support act and we just wanted to get on with it (‘dad, hold my jumper, I’m goon down the front with Mel’) notwithstanding some impressive displays of ‘3 pints in plastic glasses carried above my head through a bunch of students crammed into a sweatbox’ which were hugely entertaining even though I knew they’d be throwing it all over my head in the next 5 minutes as the place erupted into darkness.

and so it was. they said hello. literally just like that. ‘hello’. not ‘hello Norwich!’ or something shouty and incomprehensible, just ‘hello’. they had the temerity to then launch into at least 2 songs from the new album that people pretended to know intimately even though it’s not out yet like those people who do reviews on amazon and say ‘I’ve heard the demo tapes and they were AMAZING’ from their lonely bedroom in Penge and we all stand still for a while waiting for spaces to show up that we can sidle into and take our first breath in about 10 minutes. after that, they do the whole of Silent Alarm backwards and the usual stoners melee to the front trampling young deer in their path who are struggling back to go to the toilet in the corner and we’re all pleasantly entertained by the whole thing. we even clap a bit, which is unheard of around here, and those nice boys on stage tell us what a great crowd we are during the stoney silence between each song, prompting the occasional ear-splitting shrieks for a second or two before we just all stand around in the increasingly large gaps in the floor waiting for them to do that one where they stand next to each other. I mean, it was fine. that album was the best of 2005. but I’m looking at my watch.

they looked like they were enjoying it though. they probably had a a triple word score using Q and J and a nice cup of rooibush after. rock on!

that’s my widget

we don’t call it that. it’s a component. anyway, that’s mine. give it back. I don’t care where you think you’re going to put it you are not going to put it anywhere unless I say so. oh. you have already. that’s a nice mac. oh, that works. nice. thanks

sleater-kinney are playing at my house. they’ve got laptops. do you have any idea where I could position this box in a task-based flow? you do? great. I love you. but all I want to do right now is make this one talk to that one and then this one talk to that one, and yes I know its grammatically not exactly what how it should be like either anyway. give me that. I want to poke it with a stick. stop whining.

fit fat fotoshop

excuses for preamble just building a paragraph but it’s only that because I’m tagged as such you wouldn’t call it a well-constructed set of phrases or sentences that convey any message or idea – ooh there’s a mini with a pink roof – and anyway where’s your punctuation it’s there but it’s not escaped so you threw it away you see.

stefan saved my life. it’s not a great deal of work, but it’s the commitment to delivering it you see and now it’s delivered and I get an hour back and so I install creative suite 2.3 and start drawing ellipses for the rest of the afternoon except somewhere in there I’ll have to work out the bottles of rioja that left laurence on the floor if I want to do tshirts by april. tick tick tick.

hundred reasons to go

but I couldn’t think of any. so I didn’t. I have one less emo under my foot. anyway, it’s going to snow tonight, and I can’t be arsed to walk down to the waterfront. it’ll be cold. and full of fringes and converse and aiden tshirts. you’re not old enough, surely. is this an early show? hahaha. that’s a funny thing. nice umbrella.

down to bloc party on sunday anyway. I just booked an air traffic ticket for the arts centre. it’s january. shave.

loyalty conversion pause tactic

me 23
me 23 by Tim Caynes

time for a break. ooh. better than I thought. I actually did collaborative teaming without punching anyone and began to understand something. we’re doing it all wrong. we need to do it different. and it starts with whatever we find out tomorrow about how we change everything to make it happen but I know for sure there’s one significant piece missing from where I’m sitting. I’ve got no idea who you are, what you want, how you want it and what I need to do to get it to you. ok, that’s four significant pieces. and there’s probably four more somewhere I’ve just forgotten about because I’ve drunk another bottle of Chantelle and Laurence’s rioja and watched Serenity and I’ve lost the will to remember stuff. I can totally see how altering our evaluation of customer requirements and aligning ourselves behind addressing those needs might move things along that ladder and into our unique zone of loyalty, but I’m not quite sure exactly what I’ll do about it when I get back to my desk on wednesday and have to design a widget for an email campaign that can’t reference external stylesheets or use javascript but I’ll probably think of something. perhaps I’ll just redirect the inbound chats to me and ask somebody directly: what’s your best imaginable supplier going to do to address your needs? go on. tell. me. I. need. to. know. I’ve thought of a couple of things myself, but really, I just made them up. blimey, that’s a big spreadsheet. Andy?

off message off radar

copywriters ban headlines in self-depreciation overload. social obscurity for the tagless. man discovers self, world proclaims genius, nothing happens. ban this link hell insists twitcher. dolt blasts banality, refuses license. basket welder delivers pig to a horse. I recognize you. purple Ford Fiesta.

savaged by the otter of me too you stand at the lip of backslap, peering into the slackness, and you’re plucked breathless back to the upstairs bathroom, watching drivel collapse under it’s own weight and slither down the drain of man-mental. close. and now you’re logged on, finish that presentation on end-to-end flows. idiot.

tubeway army pencil sharpener

window 4
window 4 by Tim Caynes

trolling under the cavities of entropy was our saturday afternoon pastime. 3 hours cradling nescafe in fingerless gloves and lumberjack shirts you are to me the antithesis of life and death and the magic of my own experiences that you can not possibly fathom. surrounded by each other we were passing though arrogance by not saying anything to anybody and our light was not so much hidden but willfully pointing inward if you can’t work me out you need to take a look at my shoes they came from london you know you see right anyway whatever. after that we’d go up to jarrolds and get our 2 for the price of one, enigmatic to fault under the rouched ceilings flicking scones across the table when ladies our mum’s age weren’t looking. we never got thrown out. still polite.

don’t look at me. I’m not what you think I am. in 25 years I’ll be installing photo printer drivers but I don’t know that yet. all I have is everything you’ll never have. I’m walking home alone through graffiti tunnel but is that now or then. the same floorboard creaks in the same place, but now it’s me not waking them up which it was but the other way around except I’d crashed the mini and thought I should probably tell them if they do the same I’ll probably do the same. I won’t be awake, but I’ll be alive which they won’t be. denied.

I misspelled an email alias today. is that how you spell misspelled? that looks wrong. I’ve got buckle boots. I’m playing bomb jack. never made it.

lighter but stronger

tattoo 1
tattoo 1 by Tim Caynes

through the smoke of distributed publishing frameworks emerges an inline style. it wasn’t me guv. honest. well, ok, it was. you try sticking it in an edm and see how it flies. don’t get me started on portals. there’s one sheet. it’s over there. if you just made a copy of it and put it over there, then, well, I can’t help you, and by the way, I did mention this is an edm, so even if you put it over there is matters not a weasel’s chuff. and while we’re on the subject, I know that you are intimately connected to everything and are the lord god almighty of stuff but in this case it’s mine. hands off.

in my mind I project the issues off the axis and drop them, mindbomb-like, onto spurious experiences, and I’m imagining we protract ourselves by a single abstract definition only to find that I won’t work in Germany. or in an email. so at the moment where I realise there is no Island, I’m already climbing out to the desert to seek my clone, only to find that he’s altered the background class attributes and I’m now fabulous, instead of offset by 4. which is nice. except I have to kill him, etc.

get em out by Friday. I told the board we’d be able to transport humans through this before the end of January and I’ve just updated the mockup. things to note: I changed everything. imagine that. hang on. I’ve been sympathetically and tastefully modernised. my traditional interior has been transformed into a green monkey sanctuary which is approached by a spangle {color:orange}

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