Hey kids.

This is the twenty-second weekly e-mail I have sent out since I started this thing way back in mid-December, 1999. I was trawling through my Sent folder, sorting stuff out, and decided to collect all my weekly ramblings in one place. Ignoring silly questionnaires, notices, messages from the puppet etc. I came up with twenty-one rants that I had sent out. In approximately twenty-four weeks this isn't too bad. So now they're being numbered. For your ease of mind ^_^

In the past I have written my weekly sojourns into the beyond pretty much off the cuff. Maybe I'd think of something interesting to write about during the week. If I did I'd simply try and remember to include it at some point. Otherwise there was no planning involved at all. This week however, some topics which I have been meaning to discuss for some time re-entered my consciousness and I just had to write them down so as I wouldn't forget them for another few months. A scan of these notes is attached.

Making people laugh is a precious gift. People who have it are very, very lucky. The ability to say just the right thing at just the right time is not something to be underestimated. Yet when you discover that the people who laugh at your jokes will laugh at even the worst witticisms it does tend to somewhat sully the memories. To cite example. Last summer, when I knew you not well, I would on occasion see a few of you, at the cinema or some other such locale. Whereupon I would regale you with thoughts that I had just had and you would seem to laugh. And I would feel most happy and satisfied. That I had made someone else laugh. Upon (re)joining the sixth form in September however, I noticed that the people who laughed most at my words were the same people who would laugh at pretty much anything. Who would laugh when something wasn't even funny. Who would laugh merely for the sake of laughing. This set me to thinking. Had I even been funny? Were these people simply humouring me? What had happened? I concluded that the ability to make people laugh is only precious when you amuse those who rarely do so. Even if the people have been genuinely amused, the fact that they laugh at complete and utter shite devalues their smiles in my eyes. And, upon repeated exposure, the laughter died.

Disclaimer - The following paragraph contains repeated statements of the obvious. Otherwise known as fact. Take appropriate precautions.

When I see people on television, in the street, at school I notice something rather obvious. They, for the most part, look their age. Should they be seventeen they look like what think a seventeen year old should. This does not apply for all however. Specifically those people I know. People who I know look the same age they always have. People I don't know, at school, seem to be growing up and are starting to look like adults. People I do, still look like children. Those I have known longer look more childish than those I have known for less. And since I have known myself the longest I appear, to myself, the youngest. Which is rather ironic since I am (one of) the oldest. When I move away I shall meet more people. These people shall be in their late-teens / early-twenties. And so I shall see them as adults. And they me. Yet I will still see myself as a child pretending to be an adult.

Just to let you know you aren't the only one.

Sneezing at the Sun is the title of this e-mail. So I think I'll deal with that. When I look at the sun, I sneeze. I have done for as long as I can remember. Yet every single other person I have ever asked has told me that they do not. In fact, the only other person I know who does this is my oldest sister. And she doesn't count. So do any of you guys sneeze at the sun? Wait. This is a question in the middle of a paragraph in the middle of one of my rather long rants. So as to make it easier on you all, I shall phrase it in the terms of a questionnaire which you can forward to other discerning members of the public.

~

HELLO! I'M A SAD LITTLE GIMP WITH NO LIFE! HERE'S A FUN LITTLE QUESTIONNAIRE FOR YOU TO FILL IN! FILL IT IN AND THEN SEND IT ON TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW, INCLUDING THE PERSON WHO SENT IT TO YOU!

1 - DO YOU SNEEZE AT THE SUN?
2 - DO YOU LIKE DRINKING COWS' MILK?
3 - WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON WHO SENT YOU THIS?
4 - WERE SOMEONE TO GIVE YOU A LOADED GUN, WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH IT?
5 - ARE YOU PLAYING WITH YOURSELF RIGHT NOW?

IF YOU DON'T SEND THIS ON RIGHT NOW, A BIG HAIRY MONSTER WILL COME OUT OF YOUR BELLY BUTTON AND EAT YOU ALL UP! DEADLY SERIOUS!

~

So I'll fill that in for myself and send it out to you all separately. That way you won't have to forward this whole e-mail.

Attached you will find part 2 (of 3) of Simon and the Museum. Since none of you asked me to stop sending you it I shall assume you all deleted it without even reading it. Or have set your e-mail account to reject all e-mails sent by me. Wise move. A translation is attached as well. You will need it. Don't worry! But a week left. Then for some fresh, original stories. I can just feel the anticipa-

Sports day happened. Which was the most boring day I have suffered in recent memory. A funny thing happened in the morning though. For those of you that haven't heard:

I was in R11, with Ian, Cass and Pat, on account of not wishing to go to the Founder's Day service in the local church. Then the Baines walks in and asks Ian whether he is going. He says he is not. She asks why. He says because he is eating some crisps. She does not accept this and he is dragged off to be bored. I, meanwhile, have been standing there, large as life. And been ignored. Which was rather nice. I'm guessing she thought I was still a year thirteen. Then, a few minutes later, Dr Andrews sticks her head round the door. Am I going to the Founder's Day service? No. Do I have a good reason? Yes. Does Walker know? No. Does Baines? Well, she was in here a few minutes ago... Okay.

And so it came to pass that, on Friday 23rd June 2000, I did not have to sit around for one and a half hours in a scabby little church. Which is always good.

To summarise something I have written of to someone else, I do not see myself as physically unattractive. I see myself as mentally ugly. A broken mind that no-one could ever like, never mind love. An explanation for my attitude to... er... stuff.

No white text this week. For I have said most of what I want to say in the regular. Rather cunning, I'm sure you'll agree.

Last week I said I had e-mailed some of you personal e-mails regarding stuff which has been preying on my mind for some time. I didn't. Because I forgot. Now I have.

There was something else. It is gone.

So I shall tell you of a dream. Should you not wish to suffer severe cringe attacks I would recommend skipping the next section.

The identities of people in this dream, apart from myself, shall remain secret. On account of actions they partake in within the dreaming seriously diverging from those they partake of in the waking world. Now that you really want to know who I'm gibbering about...

~

I'm walking along a country path, on an island, with a group of people. Most of the group speed up and walk off into the distance. I'm left with the black-haired girl and continue walking. We come to a fork in the road and I take the left. She takes the right. There is a high wire fence along both sides of both roads, bushes and grass between. As our two roads get further and further apart we start to talk more and more. We're shouting to hear each other as the roads get further and further apart. I have nearly caught up with the rest of the group but then decide to run back to the fork instead so as I may continue the conversation. When I get there the black-haired girl is there as well. We walk on along the right fork and can't think of anything to say. I want to ask her out. The road changes into a white corridor. White walls, floor, ceilings. A glass door on the right slides open and a guy steps out. He speaks to the black-haired girl and then the door closes and we continue walking. Something is said to me but I can't remember the words. She fancies the guy who just spoke to her and wonders if he feels the same way. I'm in the living room of a house. It is night time and I am sitting by a table with some of my friends who were in the group. Their hair is different from I remember; shorter, tidier, the same. The girl with the same hair is puking up into a plant pot and everyone groans. We get up and leave.

~

I truly apologise for the cringe-worthiness. Suffer.

To Ian: This is not an edited version, as I said I might write. I simply decided not to say who was who and so tell the whole thing as it was.

Final notice for those of you who want to be in the artwork I'm making. I'll probably stick you in there anyway; I have photos of most of you. I'm just offering you the chance to have a picture you like in the artwork. Which shall be sent out next week.

My Media Studies exam is this Thursday. I got an A for my coursework. And that was done in a night and four private studies. So here's hoping I can bluff my way through the exam as well.

For those of you who are interested (and I know there are so many) here's a list of all the e-mails I consider parts of my weekly e-mail. Along with the date I sent them (ish [a bit unreliable since I reinstalled Windows]). Should you wish to receive a back-issue simply e-mail me and ask.

10/12/99 - 01 - Rees ain't the only one who can do one of these bad boys!
23/12/99 - 02 - 'Kay, the next part isn't actually written yet...
02/01/00 - 03 - Wo ho ho! Part 3 (of the e-mails, Part 2 of the story) is in xistence!
07/01/00 - 04 - Smeg! Part 4 is here!
26/02/00 - 05 - The hugely delayed Part 5. And a dream.
03/03/00 - 06 - Dream Country
10/03/00 - 07 - Night Thinking
19/03/00 - 08 - hardcore stimulant abuse (written on friday ^_^)
19/03/00 - 09 - So I only spent se7en hours doing it all really... and here's the dream.
24/03/00 - 10 - So I'm not feeling too well. And the bitch. And a call to arms.
04/04/00 - 11 - Read between the lines people...
07/04/00 - 12 - Sunny Daze
18/04/00 - 13 - Self indulgent shite. Don't worry. It's the end.
28/04/00 - 14 - Buggrit. The end's ended. Oh, and :tcejbuS
08/05/00 - 15 - So a teeny-tiny bit from me. And something else from Sticky Dicky.
11/05/00 - 16 - Cosmic Dump
21/05/00 - 17 - Falling Down / Storm Warning. Take your pick ^_^
27/05/00 - 18 - twisty turny falling motion
03/06/00 - 19 - Reactionary Writing
10/06/00 - 20 - beautiful voices
18/06/00 - 21 -
24/06/00 - 22 - Sneezing at the Sun (you are here)

Assuming I started this when it says, December 10th (I think it was the 11th in actual fact), then I really should be up to issue 28 by now. So I'm six behind. I'll try to catch up by December 10th of this year.

And Michael, you can use my writings as lyrics if you want.

2120 words this week.

A modest amount.

Everyone has left.

-tion.

Later,
Caleb






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