Really Interesting and Lovely Things I Saw on a Run Today, Part 2

As I mentioned in another post a few months ago (yes, that’s a long time. I’m sorry but I’m just inconsistent, I promise to get better) I have begun the act of running which is a form of exercise (those words in italics are the original Latin spellings) and have vowed to inform you of all the interesting shit I see whilst plodding and spluttering around.

Yesterday I went for a very intense run indeed, featuring lots of really fast running but then some slow running.

Really Interesting and Lovely Things I Saw on a Run Today:

The ghost of my dead grandfather.

Wow, that’s a bit macabre isn’t it? How on earth did that happen? Well, as I mentioned this was a very intense run and I didn’t have enough to drink, unfortunately. So after about 20 minutes I began to become dehydrated, and then I began to hallucinate. And there he was. I’ve never actually met my grandfather as he died before I was born so don’t know what he looks like. But it was definitely him; he was old, wearing a hi-vis North Face cagoule (as they were very popular during WW2) and was walking a ghost dog that was barking and trying to sniff my arse.

It was definitely him. I’m sure of it.

Ghost

Liebster Award

liebster-award-main

So, the other day the people at http://snippets.wordpress.com/ nominated me for something called the Liebster Award. I was really pleased about this and thought I was actually going to receive some sort of award and marry a supermodel. So, to celebrate me and my friends (some real, some imaginary) went to the pub and got completely battered. Unfortunately, when I woke up the next morning in a pool of my own vomit, piss and self-disgust, I realised that the award was a sort of strange imaginary virus, passed from one new blog to the next to generate readership. This is good, but I really wanted to marry a supermodel. Oh well.

Anyway:

11 facts about myself.

1)      I’m a male

2)      I’m 20

3)      I have a cat called Dusty, but I haven’t seen her in bloody ages, so I think she’s actually dead. She was extremely fat and very old. Decrepit in fact.

4)       Friends tend to be really nice and important.

5)      Sometimes when I’m lonely I dress up as a woman and expose myself to passers-by.

6)      My favourite food is pizza, and no matter where I am in the world, I will always seek out pizza.

7)      I used to play the bass guitar, but decided to pack it in when I realised I was a) shit and b) couldn’t be arsed to put the time in.

8)      I’m quite skinny and have been referred to as ‘skin and bones’, a ‘skeleton’ and most recently, and most imaginatively, a ‘worm’.

9)      Until the age of 17 I was very, very small. It was a worrying period of time.

10)   I am prone to very vacuous, wanky and clichéd philosophical phrases such as ‘life is one learning curve’, ‘never say never’ and ‘don’t live in regret’. For those around me, it’s annoying.

11)   I think one should never live in regret, accept life is one learning curve and never say never. Know what I mean?

My answers to the questions:

1. If you could live in any fantasy universe, what would it be and why?

I’d definitely want to live in Westeros (the universe from the Game of Thrones books/TV show for all you unenlightened people). The reasoning behind this is because a) it’s an incredibly detailed, nuanced and fascinating universe that has been created and b) I want to know what house I’d be in or what character I’d be like (yes I am aware that is very egotistical but fuck it)

2. What is your favourite book?

Erm that’s a very difficult question and the answer is wholly dependent on my state of mind. But if you really press me I’d probably say Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

3. If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?

Definitely a cheetah because they’re sleek, slim, toned and really, really fast and they just look so great. I’ve always loved cheetahs and I still love them, and I want to be one.

4. If you had one wish what would it be?

To know what to do in basically every sphere of my life.

5. What is one thing you would like to achieve before you die?

I’d like to make some sort of positive difference to the world, be it micro or macro. I’d also quite like to have a load of children at some point and begin a tiny little empire.

6. Do you believe in the supernatural?

Not really. Except for werewolves because I watched an episode of Goosebumps when I was like 4 about werewolves and it scared me so much, so I’ve never been able to shake the nagging feeling that werewolves exist. As a result, I always have a rifle and silver bullets on my person, but apparently the police aren’t too keen on that. Not entirely sure why really, it’s a bit of mystery.

7. What are you most looking forward to at the moment?

Hmmm. Probably my third, and final, year of university.

8. Have you ever considered changing your name? If yes, what would you change it to?

Yeah. My name is Fionn (but its pronounced Finn) so as a youngster I used to get quite a lot of stick for my name because kids are really clever so used to call my Fionn the Fish because fish have fin’s, or even more intelligently Fiona. Also, supply teachers would always say my name wrong, and pronounce it Fi-on and then everyone would laugh at me. So, for quite a long time I really wanted my name to be Paul and when I created characters on video games, like Zelda for example, I always called them Paul. But now, I love my name and am really happy about it which is genuine.

9. What is the one place on earth you would most like to visit?

Brazil. Specifically Rio.

10. Do you prefer to walk or travel by vehicle?

Walking is actually really nice and is good for the soul, brain, head (for obvious reasons) but also for the arse because your arse gets really toned and nice and all the girls will want to touch it.

11.  What is your favourite part of the day?

I quite like the window between 7-11. That’s nice.

My questions:

1)      What’s your favourite form of clothing?

2)      What’s your favourite album?

3)      Who do you most look up to, and why?

4)      What is more uncomfortable: being really desperate for a wee or being really desperate for a poo?

5)      Beach or mountains?

6)      What’s your favourite food?

7)      How many times have you smiled in your life?

8)      What was your favourite cartoon as a child?

9)      What’s your favourite cartoon now? Has it changed?

10)   Did you ever mange to get a shiny Charizard?

11)   Ant or Dec?

And finally, the 11 blogs I am going to nominate for this ghostly award are:

1)      http://valeriudgbarbu.wordpress.com

2)      http://lmstull.com/

3)      http://sdcs.wordpress.com/

4)      http://themagicmug.wordpress.com/

5)      http://earthstills.wordpress.com/

6)      http://matt.wordpress.com/

7)      http://culturemonk.com/

8)      http://justafterwords.com/

9)      http://sandeepbhalla.com/

10)   http://nathanvjohnson.wordpress.com/

11)   http://needtoletgo.wordpress.com/

Really Interesting and Lovely Things I Saw On a Run

So, in order to be fit and healthy I’ve started doing this thing called running. Basically, you punish yourself for no discernible reason by ambling around, tongue lolling out like a dying, degenerate dog, cheeks as red and rosy as an 70 year old alcoholic, legs spindly like a spiders and straining under the weight, all in the name of health. It’s quite odd and really rather masochistic.

In order to make this slightly more interesting I like to look at things using my eyes whilst I’m doing this alien practice known as exercise. As Birmingham is such an amazingly beautiful and exotic place and London is packed full of greenery and wild animals, I have seen some amazing things running around these two sprawling metropolis’. Truly otherworldly and I don’t think you could envisage the breathtaking beauty of it all.

So, being a community minded individual I’m going to tell you all about the things I’ve seen. This is the first one and I’m starting with a real bang.


Really Interesting and Lovely Things I Saw on a Run Today:

A duck. It was asleep.

ImageThis is exactly what the duck looked like. I thought it was a really unique duck because it had this cool, edgy little green bit on its head but apparently loads of ducks like to have that little bit of green on their heads and it’s a really popular craze sweeping the duck world. They’re also really getting into wholemeal bread and have been known to reject conventional white bread because it’s too ‘mainstream’. Apparently.

Generation Self

Recent data collected by The Guardian has suggested that this fine generation is more self-interested and less community minded than those generations that preceded us. The data does not lie. It is correct. We don’t give a shit about anything other than ourselves, and you know what, that’s really nice. Who cares about other people? Not us! Who cares about poverty? Not us! Who cares about climate change? Not us! This is so liberating and fantastic I just want to go and celebrate. But not with my friends or anything, no, that would be too community minded; I’m going to go and get pissed on my own and buy a suit on eBay to wear to Tesco’s so everyone thinks I’m going into banking. I am going into banking. Banking is really brilliant. It’s like playing Monopoly, but with real money, so it’s way more exciting.

The survey suggests that we don’t care about our neighbours as much as the ‘baby boomers’ or ‘generation x’ used to. And this is a bad thing? How is my utility maximised from ‘hey Barbara how are you’ or some other innocuous pleasantries? It’s not! If it was ‘hey Barbara, do you want to have sex’ then my utility would be maximised if the reply is yes. It is obvious that Barbara was very attractive as a younger woman. But it’s not so forget it. We have to ask about the weather or, how they are and they won’t have sex with us like that. It takes effort. I don’t care how you are Barbara, I truly, truly don’t. There is nothing quantifiably good about talking to neighbours, or even building up a relationship with them, so why bother? It’s pointless, I’d be better off talking to myself, because then I can say nice things.

“Hey Fionn, how are you?”

“I’m good man, I really like your coat mate, it’s beautiful”

“Oh thanks man, I like your face it’s really nice”.

Now that is maximising my utility isn’t it. Not only have I been told I have a lovely coat, but also a lovely little face. What could be bad about that? Seriously? Nothing. Nothing about that is bad. My utility is maximised and so is my ego. Bingo.

The results of the survey also suggest that we don’t care about the wider British community and society. For example, apparently our generation has no love for the NHS. And too right! Who bloody cares about the people in hospital? Unless it’s me in hospital (which won’t ever happen because I’m invincible), or maybe a family member, and at a push a good friend, then I might care a bit. But it’s not. I don’t know these people, why should I care if people are suffering and dying and what not. It’s not affecting me in any way personally. The NHS is so archaic. Looking after those in society who can’t afford to themselves? Oh give me a break you pontificating fools. I mean literally that is just silly. It’s just ridiculous. Let them die, let them die, let them die.

Another thing we’re being berated for is that apparently we don’t care about the welfare state, and we’re not as proud of it as we used to be. Yes. And? Your point? The welfare state is just a monumental waste of money. I think it’s quite clear and evident that if you’re stupid enough to need you know, support, be it financial or any other kind, and from the government then it is your own fault. That is obvious to me. I mean, why the fuck should my taxes go (I don’t pay any taxes but if I did it would be an outrage) to some pauper who needs money for her kids or something ridiculous like that. It’s not my problem!

No, my problem is whether I should spend my hard-earned student loan that I earned by filling out this really arduous and intellectually challenging form, which really took ages, like the best part of an afternoon (fucking hell!), on the following: a) booze; b) drugs; c) clothes to make me look fantastic; d) clothes that make me really fucking gorgeous; e) prostitutes; f) the new iPhone; g) hats. I think it goes without saying that all these things are very, very pressing. So, when I’ve got such big massive issues on my mind, then why would I want to give my hard earned future money (I’m going into banking remember so I’ll have loads of money that is really hard to earn because you have to like fiddle figures and stuff) to some fucking poor person? Do they even have really nice hats? No, they don’t. And that alone is enough to let them fester in their horrible little council flats. Why, oh why, am I expected to somehow endorse and be proud of this farcical ‘welfare state’ that looks after people and gives benefits. Why?

Generation Self is not a criticism. You’ve really just got to look after number one. Look after yourself. And we do that. And you know what, it’s really, really nice and we love it. The most important thing in life is you, and everyone else can go fuck themselves. I’m off to play Fifa. It’s great.

Ode to Piers Morgan

Piers Morgan, national treasure, the man we all love to hate. Except I don’t love to hate him, I love to love him. Deeply. He is in many ways a total inspiration to me. Unscrupulous, scurrying ambition, allied with a rubbery face; he is what all men want to be. As a would-be writer, I see the trajectory of Piers’ life as a template of success and happiness. By the age of 28, he was an editor, an editor, of the prestigious and well-respected News of the World. As you may know, that paper is now closed down, and contrary to reports that it was due to phone-hacking, I have it on good authority that it was in actual fact because all the other papers were jealous of the News of the World’s unrivalled political analysis and insight. For example, well known investigative journalistic triumphs such as “My Big Fat Gypsy Divorce at just 19” or “Cheeky Mates Show off Lamps’ Chelsea Buns” left papers such as The Times and The Guardian nursing considerable wounds. Why hadn’t they unearthed these gems? So they conspired to bring the paper down using wizardry, headed by the dark mage Leveson. Alas, I get waylaid; this is an ode to my darling Piers, not The News of the World.

So, why exactly does Piers incite in me such fervent admiration? Why indeed. Well, as has been made clear by his recent stance against gun laws in America, he is fearless. I wish to be fearless like Piers. He’s really making a stand isn’t he? And, to make it more impressive, he is banging a lonesome drum. He has put his head over the parapet and stuck his neck out, but his is the only head above the parapet, the only neck on the line. It’s not like anyone else, or the majority of sane humans, agree with what he is saying, is it? Oh no, he’s like Joan of Arc but a bit more tech-savvy. He is evidently willing to metaphorically burn at the stake of American populism, and he doesn’t care. I admire Piers for his stance. It’s not at all self-serving, not at all a ruse to resuscitate his reputation because his reputation has never been stronger. I think I will absorb some of Piers’ rousing fearlessness and begin to take a stand against unknown issues. ‘No to Murder!’, ‘Rape is really bad!’, ‘Stop stealing things you burglar man!’ are some of the campaigns I will start. Without the spirit of Piers, taking such a jarring stance against American gun laws and alerting us, the public, to the ridiculousness of these gun laws – laws unbeknown to the likes of you and me until Piers flew the flag of less death and stuff – I wouldn’t have the courage to tell my associates that I’m actually really against murder and mild chilli con carne. It should be spicy.

Piers, Piers, Piers. If you ever have the chance to read this, if you ever get the time out of your busy schedule scuttling around America like an elucidating beetle; ever get the chance to stop being so fantastically insidious; then know that I love you. Justin Bieber has his Beliebers but Piers Morgan is the Piered Piper, and I am one of his faithful rats.

Dreamy.

Dreamy.

Introduction

Hi, i’m  Fionn Shiner (pronounced Finn oddly enough), a 20 year old Second Year Student at the London School of Economics, studying Politics and Philosophy. I’ve spent most of my life in Birmingham, although was born in Liverpool, but now I live in London (obviously).

So, how this blog will work is that I am going to have running short stories about various different characters. Their stories will be updated from time to time, whenever I see fit. So far, I have started two; JP and Bernard’s Watch(ing you). Please check them out. They’re at the top of the page.

I hope that the writing is fun, I certainly enjoy writing it, but I am aware it is essentially a useless pastime that is not furthering or developing humankind.

I’m not helping anyone really, am I?

Enjoy.