Strolling through the garden, I can feel my shadow follow,
He's a tragic little fellow, 'cos he's always left behind,
Speeding through Australia, I've become time traveller
I don't know where I've been, but this seems like a familiar scene

Back on the other side,
What's on the other side of the world?
What's on the other side,
Back on the other side of the world?

Give my heart back to itself, the stranger who I knew so well,
The image from the mirror, knows the place I've been
Strolling through a garden, I can feel my shadow follow
When the sunlight turns me hollow, won't you tell them all the things we did.

Back on the other side,
What's on the other side of the world?
Back on the other side,
What's on the other side of the world?
I'm back on the other side,
What's on the other side of the world?
we're back on the other side,
What's on the other side of the world?

I want to be
An old man,
With a suntan and a watering can,
As happy as a heatwave,
As honest as a window
Coming through the old gate,
I can feel fate and I hope it's not too late

Back on the other side,
Back on the other side of the world
Back on the other side,
Back on the other side of the world,
So you see me on the other side,
So you see me on the other side of the world,
So you see me on the other side,
So you see me on the other side of the world

Strolling through the garden, I can feel my shadow follow,
He's a tragic little fellow, 'cos he's always left behind

Thanks to Turin Brakes - Other Side and JC, for showing me peace.

Alright, so things have been pretty slow here lately. They will continue to be so, I suspect.

But I AM still here, and I have some fairly big ideas for things to do tot he site. Probably bigger than I am, to be frank. But one day, probably not too far away, things will become far more... regular.

In the meantime, just prove my existence, I'll hand over to E. Once again, he's put down in song words which I can only dream of saying.

This one, Laurie, is for you.

Wooden Nickels

Went down by the old courthouse
Stumbling through the streets
Had to get out of the house
Had to use my feet

And you may not think much of me now
But I think so damn much of you

Don't take any wooden nickels
When you sell your soul
A devil of a time awaits you
When the party's over
You're on your own

Trash truck coming up the road
Picking up the trash
Riding to a better place
Hoping we don't crash

Thinking how things have turned out
I never would have guessed it this way

Don't take any wooden nickles
When you sell your soul
Devil of a time awaits you
When the party's over
You're own your own

And you may not think much of me now
But I think so damn much of you

Don't take any wooden nickels
When you sell your soul
Devil of a tiem awaits you
Now the party's over
I'm on my own

-Eels

It's been a while.

The time has come to return to the world according to me. It'll soon be time for a little redesign, a touch up here and there, and maybe some new thoughts thrown in too.

There have been many changes in my life recently. Here's one of the major ones.

This isn't a blog. The World According To Joe is a collection of thoughts, ideas, and poems. It try not to overflow it with a daily log of my life. Who's interested in that, right?

But sometimes it's nice to have an outlet.

My new project is just such a thing. It's a game I've started, really. I am retelling my own life as if it was a film-noir story. You know, something like Sin City or the Max Payne games. So, every I day convert my life into a noir detective story - I'm a P.I, I have a pair of pistols called The Twins, I deal with cases instead of assignments, and talk in wonderfully melodramatic prose. I write this up and post it to an online blog, and voila! The game is done.

The blog is called Degrees Of Noir (it's a sort of pun, see, or a play on words).

I can't tell you how much fun I'm having with this! Little things that crop up in real life seem to translate really well into the story (with a little imagination). It gives me a chance to both reflect on my day, and tell that noir-style story I've always wanted to tell. There is no plan for it, much like my own life. It's just a rolling story, changing every day.

I'm afraid it's keeping me away from the cool blues of this little corner for a while. But that's alright, isn't it time you took a screen break anyway?

Sorry for the site downtime this past week. Minor billing issue.

Erm, it's back now though.

See?

Another new poem. Yet again, inspiration strikes while I have a million better things to do. This is quite a personal one. That means it's a bit pap, but it means something to me. I don't think it does what I want to do. I may add another stanza. But for now...

I've tidied up the front page too, indexing 2006 news posts under Old News. This site is getting old now!

White Chalk, written on red brick,
Our love told in a heart.
It's there, drawn in the playground
Love, kiss, hate or adore.

I love Jennifer Eccles
And I know
That she loves me.
I love Jennifer Eccles
And I know
That she loves me.

I used her to carry her satchels,
She used to walk by my side.
But when we got to her doorstep
Her dad wouldn't let me inside.

One monday morning,
Found out I'd made the grade.
Started me thinkin'
That maybe she'd done the same.

I hope that Jennifer Eccles
Is going to follow me there.
Our love is bound to continue
Love, kiss, hate or adore.

I love Jennifer Eccles
I know that she loves me.

I love Jennifer Eccles
And I know
That she loves me.

-Eels

Three minutes and eighteen seconds of the sweetest song you'll ever hear. So where's my Jennifer Eccles? When did I push her away?

Good day today. On the walk home from shopping, I was inspired with a poem. Quite a sweet one, I think, its own little way. It's probably not all that obvious what is going on here, but that's ok.

It's a fictional mugging, brave readers. But fear not, for the hug was real. If a little... odd.

Debugged is an outright lie, as my project code is riddled with bugs. But it sounded nice for the title, so I'm claiming artistic lisence on this one.

By a smashing coincidence, here's the 'clever' story I tried to write. It's called Misconceptions. Title says it all. The only context is provided in the story. So there's no need for me to ramble into the black tonight....

Looking back over the site, the 'rambles' section is looking a little neglected. The last update was way back in February 2006. That's 11 months ago! Thinking about it though, there are good reasons for this. For one, the rambles are all pretty informal and a bit dull. It's rare for something of any high quality to come out there. The best rambles I've done have been personal ones. And since the site has opened up to others more and more... I'm a bit less comfortable putting up personal things. Now that was inevitable, really, and I don't like to hold back too much. It just means I prefer to wrap up personal issues a little more. Although Darkness Inside is hardly mysterious...

Anyway, I do feel that something should be added to the rambles page, if only to keep it going. And yet, I disinctly don't feel like rambling. So I shall put up a sort-of ramble. It's actually a short story. It's a lot more thought-through than any of Chance's stories. I certianly hope it's a more... important and useful peice of writing. I really like it, to be honest, it has some nice themes and ideas. It's also got a good style to it.

So here it is: a short story called Bubbles. It tries to be a little bit stylised, and a little bit clever. Oh, by the way: the beginning totally rips off a line from a film called 'The Prestige'. It's a great film. But when I was writing this story, that line kept bouncing around my head, and it was too good not to use.

I'm very keen to write more clever work. I mean really clever. If anything I've written has been dramatic or entertaining or well constructed... nothing has ever been particular smart. Something like an Asimov short story, perhaps, or like an Iain M. Banks tale. I'm really keen to write something which has a shock ending, or which demands another read. Maybe just a murder mystery would do it. Something which keeps the reader guessing, prolongs a sense of profound mystery or wrongness, and then explains it sublimely, concisely and tightly. I guess what I really need is some good plotlines to take on: rather just writing about bits and bobs with no real direction.

An earlier work I did, a fan-fiction story called 'Misconceptions', tried to do this. It was entered into a 1000 word-limit contest. It tried to tell a very simple story - something straightforward and interesting. But right at the end was a sort of epilogue which tried to turn the rest of the story on its head, and change the perspective of the reader completely. It was a nice idea. It didn't win the contest, and for good reasons. The idea was too big for only 1000 words, and I couldn't get the point across well enough. But it's something I'm determined to work on, and hopefully publish up here some day.

Maybe I need a special page for short stories. I'm trying to make myself write more... if only for sheer practice and experience.

Hey, what do you know, I've just written out a ramble.

+5 points for irony.

Deadlines are a curious thing. It seems that the closer they come, and the more important they are, the less attention I am able to pay to them. Worse - the more they loom, the more I hide in their shadow and do something else completely!

It's good for inspiration though, and it gets me writing. It's as if the grapes of my creative impulses are crushed by the dancing cherub feet of my deadlines, and fermented into the cheap and nasty wine of this literature. Or something. I just made that up a little bit, does it show?

Here's another part of the ongoing puzzle that is Chance. I like writing about this guy. The themes of walking and exploring are very close to my heart. It's nice to daydream and pretend I'm there as I make him walk on hilly roads and dirt tracks. What I really need to do is walk more, and get some fresh inspiration. All Chance's walking so far has been on the Downs. And I darsay, that's not particualrly elegantly described. But I would like to be able to take Chance out of Sussex, and have him explore some other area. But I need to go somewhere else first... and that's never easy. Especially with all this work to do.

This one goes out to you, Franchesca. I hope I'm wrong, I really do. But I think I see that shadow behind your smile, and hear the sighs as you leave each lecture alone. Maybe I'm making it all up, maybe I'm not. If I was a better person, a stronger person, I would just ask. Or at least make sure you weren't walking into university alone yet again. You can do so much better than me. I can't understand why they don't notice you now, but it's only a matter of time.

Keep smiling, pretty girl.