Hello kittlings.

So I wrote a nice big e-mail to send you all. And then Outlook died. When I went to finish and send it? I am told it has not been downloaded. And I can't read it. I really do think someone or something is trying to stop me writing my weekly shite. If it keeps happening I may even give in. The hassle is too great.

So I shall attempt to remember what it was that I wrote. Outlook died (and was resurrected) on Sunday. Now it's Tuesday. I shall try.

No, I shan't. When I sent out those multiple copies of my last two weeklies I re-read them. And cringed mightily. It should be noted (though by whom, when and where, I shall leave up to you) that my weekly rants have very short life-spans in terms of validity. They're what I think when I write them; what I've thought up to the time I write them down. As the distance in time grows greater and greater the amazing truths they reveal grow more and more defunct. So, first of all, don't re-read them (in the hope of better understanding me [as I know you do]) after more than a few weeks have passed since I sent (or wrote) them. If you haven't checked your e-mail in months this means the majority of what you read from me will be obsolete. And, secondly, I don't think I'll bother archiving the weeklies as I intended. Whilst they may (or may not) be interesting to read, I do not wish my rantings to haunt me in so public a forum as a website.

I shall cast the most cursory of glances over what it was that I wrote about all of two days ago. There was something about feeling betrayed once you realise that people you get to know have lives which don't involve you. There was commentary upon the obvious, yet still amusing, inverse relationship between a student's bag and his age. And there was a hugely cryptic rant, from me, concerning thoughts which no-one should have. Oh, and I believe I mentioned the fact that, so long as I never act upon my thoughts, all will be well. But I could be mistaken.

So what to write instead of all that? Well, to be rather pathetic, you will find part 3 (of 3) of Simon and the Museum attached. It is bad. Not as bad as it could have been. But bad nevertheless.

And 1 and 2 and 3 and 4 and 1 and 2 and 3 and 4... etc.

In a dither as to what to write about, Caleb decided to become all self-involved like (more so) and talk about himself. A topic he knows a fair bit about and so should be able to discuss with some degree of authority.

It would appear that I am (or upon several occasions have been) rude. And no-one tells me. Which is rather annoying. I can't promise that I'll stop being rude. Can't even offer the glimmer of a promise that I'll try. But I would like to know. It has been brought to my attention, by persons that I trust, that people do not tell me when I'm being rude because they feel sorry for me on account of the whole-going-blind-thing. Which is all well and good. A fine and worthy attitude to take towards yours truly. But not a helpful one. For not everyone, nay, the vast majority of people I meet throughout my life, will know (until I take to tapping things with a white cane) and will simply think me an arrogant bastard. Which is fine when the people do not matter. But not when they do. A request therefore. Should I ever be rude to you, or someone else in your presence, please tell me. That is all.

On to the subject. A rather pertinent line from the pen of Warren Ellis, hence the mouth of Spider Jerusalem. One which applies to most, if not all of us. At one time or other. The point of using it as a subject? Merely that it clicked within me when I read it. Most of you, I imagine (most colourfully) see most everyone else as isolated people with isolated joys and isolated problems. And you're correct to do so. However, as some of you know, there is more. Search for it.

Hmm. A little too cryptic for the likes of me. Were I to read what I have written, I would think I was being rather pretentious. And I would, to an extent, be correct. To be pretentious is to assert a claim. I claim to know a fair amount about life, the universe and everything. A fair amount considering my years. But now I'm getting caught up in semantics. And whilst I enjoy it mightily myself, I am sure the rest of you do not. So I shall cease.

Another thing I wrote of in the wiped-weekly was of bodies. How, when I think of people, I generally think of their face. How some people think of voices. How bodies are there, under clothes, and how I thought they were fairly nifty. With a whole load more pretension of course.

I have scanned / will be scanning my body. If I have, it is attached and it took a lot of time and effort. And an un-censored version is available for those who request it. And how, yes, I was bored. If I have yet to do so, look forward to that. It'll be great (Irish Joey).

I have read a book by Jeff Noon called Vurt. It is amazing. Rather like my rantings, only with a plot. I have started to read Snuff Fiction by Robert Rankin. It differs strikingly, both in style and content, from most all of his other work. Seek both of these books out and all shall be, if not totally, at least slightly more well.

To close? Go to www.freaks.fsnet.co.uk. It has been redesigned completely. It has a chat room. And you can download my Dr Pepper television advert (2 minutes and 2.27MB - fairly good) as a RealMedia file. So go get RealPlayer (www.realplayer.com) if you do not already have it.

And another thing. I have made another piece of digital art. You can download it at www.megasad3.freeserve.co.uk/pictures/wp-27.jpg. If you do, please let me know what you think of it. So as I do not send you it in next week's weekly.

Later,
Caleb




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