Good Tuesday all WOAH.
Woah, WOah, WoAH. What. The fuck.
Where the fuck was the Weekly Review on Sunday, hm? Where were you when I needed ma fix, HUH? Ma weekly gaming fix, my local does of 0XP on a Sunday afternoon between chores and Netflix – where WERE you? Don’t think you can just come Ca-RAWLin’ back when you feel like it cos my interest is gone: UNfollowed, UNsubscribed, Unloved.
Hey! Hey hey hey, I’m sorry – look, I was just in Scotland! I was only there a little bit, I wasn’t even gone that long – and look – I’m here now right? I’m sorry; I promise I’ll make it up to you. Is it my bad grammar? Is it my conversational tone – those are superficial, not who I really am – you can’t hate me for them – !
Goodbye…. You didn’t know how good you had it.
Hello? Anybody still here? Not like you could respond in real time whilst I type this anyway…ah shit. Whelp. ‘Spose I’ll just have to march on with whoever’s left. I hope you can forgive me.
I’m late in the weekly review as I was up in Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival this year over the weekend where I was busy watching amazing improv shows, incredible theatre and terrible (terrible) standup that I had little time to sit down and type out a review. But I’m here now. So let’s get busy.
This week was largely inactive for 0XP – more of a holiday. I went and dogsat at a friends and went up to Scotland as I mentioned 67 words ago. The only things I did were a bit of coding and started the Unity 2D Roguelike tutorial, but I don’t have much to say on them.
That’s why, this week, I thought it would be good to honour experimental expression and instead of babbling on about the work I didn’t do this week, I would like to offer the following “”””””””””””””poem””””””””””””””.
Please let all readers be warned, what follows was typed out without stopping over the course of 3 minutes at 15:27 on Tuesday the 8th of August 2017. This is not poetry, so much as art-abuse. Read at your own peril.
Wind’s blowing into my nightmare’s hair
I can’t imagine the pain they must feel
Flowing in the breeze like a hotdog in a lift
Covered in ketchup, so thick they can’t see
But I don’t pity those tendrils at the mercy of sauce
Cos when I brush them on my burger they know who’s boss.
Dark. Dark. Dark. That’s the colour of my corduroy jeans
That I bought last weekend, I thought they might be too tight
Cos they fit in the shop at size 30, but my fluctuating diet keeps
Me somewhere between complacent and 33.
I’ll admit not my best trait but people have done much worse
There’s the EPA, UKIP and other groups I daren’t mention
Lest they get caught in traffic. Horses in the grass
Horses in my car. Horses out my window, Horses in the dark.
Have you ever split hairs over a horseburger? I have.
Have you ever soaked in the juices of fatty naivety? I have.
What’s two times two to the tower of two? I have.
And if I leave you with one last message remember this:
That the night is dark and full of terrors when you drink a horse’s –
Thank you for indulging me this week. Until next week, where we’ll return to our usual format.