Devil Duck

Another horny little devil

Currently guarding my cacti. One day I'm going to meet a girl just like her. *sigh*

And while we're on the subject ...

.... these rather lovely magnets currently adorn my fridge. That damn burning lake must have some ace merchandising.

"FLEE FROM THE WRATH TO COME!"

More religious nuttery, as found in the pub. There was a whole buch of stuff about people who'd seen Heaven as well, but I didn't bother to include it - an awful lot of light, joy and meeting dead relatives. Just the sort of place I'd try to avoid. Hell sounds like much more fun. Burning lakes, and shit. How cool is that? I'll bet there's some groovy goth clubs as well. And if infidel like Voltaire and Thomas Paine are hanging out in them ... well I know where I want to go.

Unfinished building, Bishopsgate

Killer Pussy

Which has, er ... not much to do with cats, I think. Saw a preview on Japanorama last night, and rather desperately want to get a copy. There is a cool trailer here. One of a new wave of Japanese erotic splatter apparently, which sounds good to me.

Tell Me Easter's On Friday

More apocalyptic literature put through my door by the local religious nuts. Cool pic, though.

Our Lady of Pain

What's wrong with this picture?

I walk past this every day, and it bugs the hell out of me. However you add it up, whatever obscure numerical system you might use, it's not 24 hours!

Lying bastards!

Actually it was open 24 hours in the beginning, then they realised the only people who went in at 4am were crackheads.

Nine Inch Nails

Okay, you can call me the oldest teenager in town, but I thought they were one of the bands that you ought to see at least once before you die, like Ministry and Rammstein (actually I'd happily see Rammstein again - one of the best nights out I'd had for ages).

Now it must be admitted that our boy Trent hasn't made a good record since The Downward Spiral god knows how long ago, his lyrics are invariably cringeworthy 'O' level angst, and he's getting a little podgy ( he doesn't take his jacket off for the 2 hour set - a technique learnt I'd guess from Steven Seagal). But blimey - these chaps can rawk! And loud enough to actually hurt my ears, which I haven't experienced for a while.

They further endear themselves to me by mostly ignoring the last couple of albums for most of the set and hammering out the good old stuff, then kind of spoil it by doing some less than memorable new numbers and putting on a crowd-pleasing stadium-rock finale. Worst part of the night was the Coldplay moment of a couple of thousand idiots singing along to Hurt while waving their fucking phones in the air. The twats. Johnny Cash did it better, anyway. His version had some genuine emotion, while Reznor just sounds like a whiny goth teenager in need of a good slap.

Incidentally, my new camera phone does some very strange things in low light conditions. Here is Trent singing Hurt:

Which I quite like in an abstract kind of way.

My bedside tabe

Just got a new phone off Orange and while testing the camera last night happened to take a still life of my entire existence in microcosm - apart from the porn and the comics. I keep all of life's essentials close to hand.

It's got an MP3 player, too.

The Mouth of Madness part 2 - electric airbrush remix

Just recently bought a Wacom tablet and pen which makes doing stuff like this much easier than using a mouse. This was all done in Photoshop, but there's a groovy paint prog that came with the tablet that includes an incredibly realistic oil paint simulator. Look out for more twisted shit.

Deadly Reptiles

Sky 3 , the last resort of the alcoholic insomniac, has such a programme on right now. It's educational. I have learned that "avoiding rattlesnakes is the clue to not letting them bite you", which might not have otherwise occurred to me.

The Mouth of Madness - part 1

Snow

Jesus on Mars

My 15 inches of fame...

It may or may not have come to your attention that I am in a porn film. I shit you not. This is it, actually "The Cockwell Inn", just out recently. I hasten to add that at no point did I actually get my kit off or do anything unhygenic. I was merely an extra in a couple of scenes playing a sad loner at the bar. Typecast again. Nor did I actually get paid anything, unless you count a few cans of warm Stella. I did get to watch a couple of hours of the hard stuff, though, through a gap in the curtains. It was a rather messy 3-way, and I'm never going to sit on that couch in the pub again.

PS: 'The Cockwell Inn' cider is supposed to be really good. Fnarr fnarr...

Celebrity Diet Book

Found this on 'The Onion' site a while back. It sure beats the Atkins diet.

Lee Marvin

An apocalyptic new year to all...

Well that's all clear then. This came through my door the other day. Actually it all sounds rather exciting. Can't wait for the movie.