Hello world, or more likely nobody.
Wow: I'm talking to the world but nobody is listening... blogging is futile. Get up and assimilate the day.

Well that asside, I have just two things I would like to throw out there.

Firstly... I just had a really weird dream, I was running around and around this sort of factory, but it wasn't quite a factory: in places it looked like a school or a shopping mall.
Anyway I was running around, and Chris was there, but he was working there. I was a patron or a prisoner, and he was a member of staff.
So I was running around and around this place, with Chris occasionally giving me directions, there were other runners too doing the circuit.
Suddenly I realised that the solution was in the milk bottle. I think I said it out loud, because I was immediately terrified that the runner behind me had heard and would get there before me!
So I doubled back, running through the halls of an empty american high school and back into a the dark grey factory, I ran up a down escallator and there it was!
It, was a large slowly spinning turnstile device, quite similar to a tie-rack. On it was a number of bottles and cartons.
I saw a volvic bottle bleached white and nearly grabbed it, thinking it would have milk in it, but then I remembered that it was bleached white by turpentine. So I looked again, and there it was! A green Avenmore carton. (This was the old low fat carton, they are now pale blue)
The carton was attached to the turnstile i such a way that I had not choice but to pull off the lid in order to get it down. I looked in, I saw and smelt that it was washing up liquid and I knew that I was right, that I had won.
I stood up (the turnstile was only at chest hieght so you had to squat to see under it and get at the bottles) and walked to the door, where I was congradulated on solving the puzzle and allowed to walk through.
At this point I was woken up.

Now the girl. Last week started on something of a high note. On sunday night I went to the movies with an attractive member of the opposite sex whom I had had my eye on for some time.
Everything went fantastic, the movie Charlie Wilson's War was great, and we had a lot of fun together. Unfortunately Ireland has an irritating habit of closing down on Sunday, so by the time the movie was over there were no pubs for us to go to.
So we parted ways at the taxi rank on Dame St. at this point I was in a frankly hideously good mood.
Then I made a big mistake, I failed to follow Swingers Rule.
Swingers Rule is from a trailer for the movie Swingers, which was at the start of one of my favourite movies growing up.
Swingers is about a man who got married young and then was divorced years later. He is trying to date again but he lacks all the necissary skills, so his friend have to teach him, talk him through the process.
Anyway, one particular scene in the trailer showed him coming over to his friends and exclaiming excitedly that he had "her number". He wanted to know when he should call her, they said wait two days, he asked how long they would wait before they would call their babys: they respond in unison "two days".
It was exactly this rule that I utterly failed to follow. I barely waited 12 hours. And that was that, I came on too strong, girl was wierded out. I acted like a twat. The end.
Oh well, next time, assuming the Universe (through quantum) grants me a next time. I'll try and play it a little cooler. In fact, a lot cooler.
Maybe I'll wear sunglasses all the time...

Left Limits

Given a function f(x)
We say that f has:

A Left Hand Limit Equal To l!

But only at the point at the point x0-oo-oh
If the value of f(x)
can be made as close as we wish to l
as x approaches x0 - From the Left

The girl beside me is hot like hell
Her cleavage invites like the gates of hell
I may not feel that rump tonight
But she looks great in the afternoon light.

Take x close to two
Like you hold your baby close to you
But keep it less, than then two
or else you just might go through

If x is nearly two, then x-squared is nearly four
and we can make it close
and we can make it big
But we always will be limited by that value: less than 2
So what I'm really saying is that it never will be four.

So when I say
f(x-) = L
Don't you walk away...

---
Rory Glynn
If you really want to get this you have to listen to some Guns N' Roses and then read it.
Axel Rose needs to sing it.

In my Canteen

In my canteen:
The food is always stodgy,
The chips are really dodgy.
In my canteen.
The fish is just terrific,
The meat is non-specific.
In my canteen.
The cleaning is atrocious,
The tables make me nauseous.
In my canteen.
But when you need a feed
It's the place your guaranteed
It won't make your wallet bleed!
And that's why it's my Canteen.

-ANkh
This isn't specifically about DIT's canteen, which isn't that bad... except for the cooking.

Crazy

I'm crazy,
so crazy,
just crazy,
and lazy,
and blue.

I'm crazy
so crazy,
just crazy,
and hazy,
about you.

I'm crazy,
so crazy,
just crazy,
to blasé,
to sue.

I'm crazy,
so crazy,
just crazy,
but my pay,
is due.

Obviously I was too busy sticking to the format to make any sense...
-ANkh

Bored

I need some human interaction
Or at least a good distraction
I might as well be in traction
As live a life devoid of action

I am so bored
Bored
Bored
Why am I so bored?
Bored
Bored


I need someone to talk to
Something to think and something to do
I've got a catalogue to flick through
Does that sound appetising to you?

I am so bored
Bored
Bored
Why am I so bored?
Bored
Bored


I just want to go home
To end this frivolous roam
I'll sit on my nerd throne
And invade Berlin or kill a clone.

I'm just so damned bored!
It cannot be ignored
I need to go out and be scored
Or I might as well be freeze stored


I'M JUST SO FUCKING BORED!

Plane Ramblings

I am currently sitting in seat 12c listening to johnny Cash cut with punk rock.

My vessel sails over a patch of lake scattered wetlands north of Vancouver, unfortunately I cannot access this information first hand but instead must rely on a gps driven mapping program to inform me.

Why Do I Not Look Out A Window?

Simple: on an Airbus A330 the left side of row 12 has no windows. Bit of a downer.

According to the digital map We are passing “Norway House” home of an impressive sand spit.

What Is A Sand Spit?

A sand spit is a product of erosion and deposition, specifically it is caused by what is known as “Longshore Drift”.

Longshore Drift causes sand to be pulled along a beach. This works just fine until the beach gives way (i.e. the rock or other solid that the beach formed on are no longer there) then without a beach to bounce off the drift looses all of its strength and drop its load.

After some time the load forms more beach and the waves rebound off this making more deposited beach after that first stretch, this process continues until the sand source is cut off. (either by the complete erosion of the source or by human interaction in the form of building various barriers to stop the sand from leeching off “their” beach.

I just heard “Grace Kelly” by Mika, and I admit: I'm growing fond of it despite myself.

Now Johnny Cash is singing about his lover being the nearest thing to heaven... Boy oh boy do I miss my girl. Ten hours without the ability to send her some sort of short soppy message is killer.

Ah, that body of water is “Lake Winnipeg”, some more control over this GPS feed would be nice.

It is 11:02 Pacific Coast Time. 7:03pm at home.

That give me about 3 more hours in this accursed contraption.

Redhatt Bootstrap Linux! The in-flight entertainment computer just restarted. It is running RedHat Bootstrap Linux, I wonder if this is automatic or if someone is actually at a console somewhere...

It's taking quite a while to get running.

The stewardesses mentioned earlier that they had not been told how the system worked beforehand.

I wondering if this relates to wht is making the lites turn on and off randomly. Or the mysterious “Computer Problems” that delayed take off.

Interesting: It is again running its gps system for me to look at, but now it has a much more detaled feed, its telling me outside temperatures, wind speeds etc.

How odd.

So, this crate is Penguin Powered, how about that?

Do I Trust a Penguin Powered Plane?

Sure, why not? If you can't trust the nerdiest software around, who can you trust?

“Dreaming Dreams of driving a Zamboni, all over Saskatchewan” - Weird Al Yankovic.

I currently float due south of Saskatchewan. Which puts me probably in Canadian Airspace.

Here comes “Whole Wide World” by Wreckless Eric, a fairly soppy allegedly punk song. I wish this plane was aimed in the opposite direction.

Why Am I Crossing The Rockies When I Only Want To Cross The Irish Sea?

Beats me.

Ah, the child sitting across the aisle from me has woken to find that he is stil on that damned plane. You wouldn't be that excited by the prospect either.

I'm glad there is some punk on, because Mr. Cash would have a hard time drowning out this little fella.

Tell Me About The Airbus A330.

Well its a plane, It has two wings, it runs an in-flight entertainment system based on redhat linux.

It has all the standard trappings of a modern airliner. Big plastic everything. If it were to crash the emergency exit is one row in front of me, and manned by an elderly couple I don't trust.

But I'm just bitter because of the legroom I would have if I was sitting there.

Current status of Rory Glynn:

Tired : True.

Bored: True.

Lonely: True.

Sore: True.

Sleepy: True.

In Need Of A Visit To The Lavatory: True.

In Desperate Need Of A Visit to the Lavatory: False.

Full Of Piss And Vinegar: Always.

Breath Fresh: False

Dragon Breath: Possibly.

This trip marked a new high for me in painful long distance flying:

I ate the whole dinner except the yellow rubber and the cold pasta, twice.

Also I watched two films in their entirety.

Those films were:

The Cleaner

& Music and Lyrics

The Cleaner is a traditional “unlikely espionage” comedy movie. Much in the style of “The Man Who Knew Too Little”.

Music and Lyrics is a modern Hugh Grant movie where he plays his Four weddings and Gossford character, but with an inkling of backbone.

Both films made me feel lonesome for Seāna.

Okay, I think I'll go for that pee now.

-Rory

The Hole Song

When you leave,
You leave your hole behind!
When I come,
Its just your hole I find!

When you're hot,
You can be quite conductive.
But when you're cold,
Your not so seductive.

I need you,
to be more,
I need your:
to be impure!

You'll be better
I'm really hoping;
When I add a letter
In a process called Doping!

If you were N;
It would be conductive,
If you were P;
I would fall in your... hole.

This song is actually about the doping of Silicon chips.
Electronics

The Latest NESW From The Front

Hey there!
I'd like anyone who still looks in this direction to check out my new direction:
NESW!

I gotta go.

I gotta go.
I gotta go.
I gotta go, like the snow, hanging low on,
the branches of trees in Wintertime.
But now it's summertime.
And it is not sublime, the snow of Summertime.

I gotta leave
I gotta leave
I gotta leave, but do not grieve, for I will be back again.
When I come down this Track Again.

[Drum Solo]

I must be gone.
I must be gone.
I must be gone, because the Spring has been and gone.
And I'm not where I Belong.

I gotta dash.
I gotta dash.
I gotta dash, This girs a lash, but offers hash, from her stash.
And I can't be having That.
I'll get my hat, go feed my cat.

And now the Ramones, who's words echo through my bones...
Listen to the Ramones.

I gotta get away.
Gotta x6 Get Away.

Note: The term [Drum Solo] refers to some sort of musical interlude or rambling or whatever... Not an actual drum solo because i hate them.

Also: The capitalised words are to be sung at a higher pitch... like in a Yes song.

Wave

Here's a song which feels a bit Jimmy Eat World to me... See what you think.

Wave because you see her.
Wave because you know her.
Wave because you need her.
Wave because you want her.
Wave because you love her.

I have changed the second verse back to its original content because It feels better...

Wave because your in the water.
Wave to your son and daughter.
Wave because of the light in your eyes.
Wave because you hear their cries.
Wave because your not that tough.
Wave because you can never get enough.



A bit random... But I like it.

-ANkh

I Lobster

I Lobster.
You Lobster?
He Lobster!
She Lobster!
Us Lobster!
They Lobster!
Why Lobster?
How Lobster?
Who Lobster?
WHAT LOBSTER?

-Um... Lobster everybody!

Battling The Beast.

I'll chop off both your necks you freak!
Actually we have only one neck
But we've got a long spicky tail, and a beak
Oh Good! I'll send you back to heck.

That beak is sharp
like a carp
That's irrelevant
Like an elephant.

Yes I aknowledge that this is very bad.
-Rory Glynn

Communications Lecturer

Here is a single verse poem I wrote about my Communications Lecturer.
As you will soon discover I find his class utterly trivial and pointless.

Randomly he Rambles
Many Examples executed
His point is all in-shambles
His effort un-saluted

I quite like it.

Death in the family.

This one is a proper poem...
For people who can't take a hint I would like to point out that time passes between verses.

A member of our family died today
We cried and wailed in such dismay!
He was one of us for many years.
That's why his passing caused such tears.

The funeral was held last Monday
By all accounts a dreary day.
At the wake we raised our beers
To toast a life with many fears.

But today will be bright and gay,
And we will all go out and play!
You see I don to want to seem perfidious
But now we have a new goldfish.

Note: For added sarcasm replace "goldfish" with "Adopted Romanian".
But I wouldn't do that because it would just be cold... And not at all funny.
Your a very bad person. And frankly... So am I.

By Rory Glynn.

Like a Grenade

This one is more of a song than a poem.

I Exploded like a grenade
It was getting worse
And makin' me curse
So I went up!

Chorus:
I Blasted them back,
In a Massive Attack!
And now they run back
For courage they Lack!

I exploded like a grenade
They were getting on my wick!
So I hollered "Suck my dick!"
I just blew up!

Chorus
I Blasted them back,
In a Massive Attack!
And now they run back
For courage they Lack!

By Rory Glynn
-Hey if you listened to the weird variety of music I do you'd write this shit too...

Shot In the Back

We were walking in the park,
A city dwellers perk
Then (due to sudden spark)
I was "Such a Jerk!"

I was shot in the back!
I was hurt, by
An unprovoked attack!
I felt like dirt, because
I was shot in the back!

by Rory Glynn

Going MutiMedia

The Amazing Jellybaby Circuit.

The Verses of a Plane

What follows are a series of verses I wrote while flying home. I will mark the point at which i handed the laptop over to the girl seated behind me and at her request wrote more poems. I will also leave my message to her and some of her response (i.e. not her email address).

I’m a plane in flight,

Which is my personal plight

But I intend this song to be light

And only somewhat trite

For you to be uplifted

My rhymes must be gifted

And all ready we have hit the wall

Which will be my fall

For no words end with ifted but gifted and lifted

But fear not, my desperation is not so great

As to attempt a rhyme with “snifted”

For that is not a word and I would hesitate, to use it.

My plane is over the Atlantic Ocean

To be precise it flies above the Davis Straits

And I feel I am in dire straits above the Davis Straits

Being awake brings forth this emotion.

The twins, the puppies, the little pair.

The jugs, the guppies, the special two.

Tits are the thing,

with which one catches

the concentration Imagination and Salivation,

of the king.

If you can’t think of anything clever to say rip off Shakespeare…

The girl behind me struggles with her sleep

Eyes closed, she finds, she cannot keep

I would suggest to her sunglasses

But disturbing her, would be the work of asses.

The girl to my fore shakes and shivers,

She quakes and she quivers,

She drops her seatbelt on my shoe

What a thing to do!

To my right, is a young lady

Who’s mastery of flight

Is absolutely flawless

First she had a nap

Now TV is watched

The gentleman to my left

Is a reader no less

He now examines the in-flight magazine

With the cool eye of the excruciatingly bored.

And I sit in the middle

My thumbs I do twiddle

And time I must piddle, away

Four hours to fritter, have I.

I could watch a movie!

Wouldn’t that be groovy?

But all of the films are in full run

And watching a flick but missing the start,

Why that is simply not fun!

And I must bemoan!

And loudly I groan!

For a comedy channel… we have not.

Perhaps I should be happy with what I have got!..

Perhaps not

Testacles, my dear boy are the pinnacle

For if a tight spot is the home for a testacle

Comfort is utterly impossible

The pinch utterly impassable

On the plane they server food, unpalatable

They make announcements, inaudible

They have movie screens, invisible

And a horrid smell, indefinable.

But it’s hardly my place to complain…

I believe I need a strategy game

A strategy game

To keep me sane

A strategy game

While on the plane

Being without, such a diversion

I make the conversion

And use my energy to write lyrics

And quietly I am murdered by semantics

Murder on Phonics!

More on this one when I find out what Phonics are exactly.

I fought the law!

Till the law run!

And now it’s coming back!

With a bigger gun!

The Hun…

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d write down your name

And call you when I got home

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d write out a sonnet

All about your bonnet

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d make a list

Of all the really good lists.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d draw you a picture

Of what I see.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d fold it into a shape

Or wear it as a cape.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d throw it away

And spend with you another day.

If I had a scrap of paper

I’d tear it half

And give the big half to you

If I were you I’d be more like me

So I wouldn’t really be you at all

I’d be me, altogether differently

And you would seem appal.

Well that is what I could flower

In merely half an hour

Imagine the throughput

If I was not so stupid

Now who will read my blasted poems?

Crazy lyrics

Stupid Songs

A posting on the internet will see them read

But shallow as I am I feel the need for a more immediate audience.

If my nearest neighbour was not a child of eight I would ask her, what she thought…

But sadly she is and I must not.

These poems are somewhat explicit, entirely unsolicited.

They are also very hard to follow, being the result of a mental billow

Perhaps my neighbour the explicit reader will see clear to evaluating my written work? Perhaps I should ask?

He is watching TV, I see. I believe I shall wait, for my need is not nearly so great.

As to cause inconvenience, to an unwitting audience.

I had quietly hoped someone would be reading over my shoulder, but others are not nearly as nosy as I!

This is the point at which the laptop was passed over to The Audience, an American girl with an active interest in poetry... and was recieved back with an instruction to write more...

A new audience (and indeed subject matter)

Has seen fit to make its presence felt

And a blow she has dealt, me

By requesting more of my non-science

I had the poor fortune,

To hand words to a lover of poetry

And now, tongue in cheek

I must satisfy the geek.

And now turn your gaze

To the wonderful maze

That is made up with many a seat

And of course, an unhelpful smattering of feet…

This hazard is trawled

By stewards unshawled

The great unwashed*

And bankers half sloshed

*A phrase my geography teacher often used to describe his class.

As someone with legs of an inconvenient length

It is my unfortunate strength

To trip the unwary

A prospect they find scary

So I’m given looks! Glary!... and so on.

The greatest avenue of adventure and excitement open to a passenger on a plane is a trip to an even more confined space, where they can find terror and relief in equal measure.

I refer of course to a trip to the lavatory.

Stumble and stammer,

On a door you hammer

And suddenly you’re in the dim

Hit the switch and lock the door

Now at least you can see the floor

Relief is granted by an unconformable piece of plastic.

But then the terror renders you a spastic,

The awful sound of air moving at speed!

One more shock as the switch now plunges you into a darkness most grim…

But at least you have pee’d.

If you wish to read more of my random thoughts leave an email address on here and I’ll send the url of my rarely updated oft ignored blog.

[The response of the girl:] An intentional blow. I wondered if your work would change at all after some solicitation.

By Rory Glynn

Your such an asshole.

Your such an asshole
down in your grass-hole
and you suck it all in
And create such a din

I chloroformed my date!

Every thing was going great!
I had just finished my plate!
It was getting quite late...
Then I Chloroformed my date!

Will her father relate?
No! He will demonstrate his hate!
So now I concentrate...
On getting my story straight!

-Ankhwatcher