Archive David Gentle info and blogdex

Saturday, October 14, 2000

There are too many sparrows "on me".
posted by David Gentle 10/14/2000

Hey kids! Here's a question:

Who should be forced to leave my flat now?
Todd
humbert the seal
Bratulith
The entire population of south wales (pesky pesky pesky)
The feeling in my feet
Absolutley no heaven. Ever.
I don't care, you rancid oaf.
I don't mind but I would like to suck you.

Key kittens! Who would like to see the Results?
posted by David Gentle 10/14/2000

Wednesday, October 11, 2000

[Note for the bewildered: This weblog is a my attempt to filter my life and experiences through the lenses of surrealism, satire and really shit jokes. Since my life is so boring I have to make it sound interesting and I do this with an invented career, friends and aquaintances. Some people reading this may find it offensive. I direct those people to this article I wrote. I hope that those people who don't find it offensive aren't so bored by it that they never look at it again]
posted by David Gentle 10/11/2000

Wow! Todds writing a semi fictional account of his adventures!
Todd's huge adventure
I sat on the beach with Humbert. We like the sound of the sand.
Sand.
Sounds cool, looks cool, tastes like grunting.
I was waiting for a clue to come along. I'd been working on the project for a number of months and found nothing but empty moth cocoons. I needed a break badly or the seals would start to shimmer. Given my entire lack of success up to that point I decided to call Nonose who had decided that his affair with David's lovely girlfriend would require him to leave the village and seek sanctuary. He said he'd look into my problem but...shit! What was that? It looked like a locust but it was wearing my trousers. Fuck, that was weird.
Nonose took a few days to think about the problem and concluded that I had some hair. I thanked him and said that if I ever wanted a noseless man for anything I'd give him a call.
It was on that morning that the beach yielded it's first clue. A big open bag filled with blankets. I decided that they ought to be studied in depth.
On the third day I started thinking about jeans. I'd seen a man wearing them on his head the day before and I wondered why it hadn't occurred to me to try that style. I concluded that my jeans probably weren't large enough. I put up token resistance to the notion of getting out of the chair to stair at some geese but Humbert managed to convince me that they were "really cool geese". While he entertained passing children with his balancing, flapping and cock related skills I looked for the answer to a riddle:
How do you find a bus conductor in an empty field?
I stared intently at some glass on a stick. It was glittering and spangley. I suddenly felt new erotic urges in places and ways that simply would have seemed absurd several moments ago. I decided that I needed a new hole in my stomach so that someone could fuck me in the guts. I also wanted special abrasion pads on my thighs as well as spurting face lubricant glands that tasted of strawberry. The glass rescinded it's grip and I stared the old gypsy woman in the eye. It was an omelette.
I caught wind of the next "clue style invasion" when a gang saw me throttling a jockey. You know what jockeys are like. They, not knowing the foul perversions of jockey/horse sexual association, thought I was being cruel. We had a heated debate which I won by asserting that I was living on an island where people and animals had no teeth because the tooth fairy had gone "a bit funny".
posted by David Gentle 10/11/2000

Hello. I feel elavated. It's as though I've drifted to the top of some insubstantial pole. My boots seem to be harbouring a saunter.
posted by David Gentle 10/11/2000

Monday, October 9, 2000

Well now. At work today I encountered a whole range of adventurous young people. They seemed to be wearing nothing other than hiking boots. I asked them the time and they replied "Clamber time!".
posted by David Gentle 10/9/2000

Sunday, October 8, 2000

I'm thinking of inviting some other young friends into my flat of normality. What will they do here?
posted by David Gentle 10/8/2000

This page is © David Gentle 2000. It is a work of distasteful fiction.