Profile for FeralCatMan:
Barely on the artistic spectrum.
Anomie in the UK.
I've found something,
no-one was looking for.
I've found something,
that there's no use for.
And what's more,
I'm keeping it to myself.
B. Gilbert - Wire
"feline one of my turns coming on..."
"Took the road less travelled and got lost"
Apparently I look like Dave Grohl the drummer bloke mixed with Nick Cave.
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- a member for 19 years, 9 months and 20 days
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Barely on the artistic spectrum.
Anomie in the UK.
I've found something,
no-one was looking for.
I've found something,
that there's no use for.
And what's more,
I'm keeping it to myself.
B. Gilbert - Wire
"feline one of my turns coming on..."
"Took the road less travelled and got lost"
Apparently I look like Dave Grohl the drummer bloke mixed with Nick Cave.
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Have you ever seen a dead body?
Dry Pussy
I like cats, not particularly squeamish though; So when two mates and I were cleaning out a horrendously packed full of crap garage (to the roof) and found the mummified cat under a mattress, I wasn't fazed. Despite the agonised look on its'half eaten face.
I (the veggie) went to clean it up, whilst the other two (manly meat types) cringed and whimpered. It was interesting from an anatomy point of view so I smiled evilly at them and after wrapping it, popped my new friend in the haversac (that worried them)
and trundled off on my ancient motorbike.
Here's the good bit.
I rode over to Maxines' place a mile away (said I'd visit) and her strange mate Dave was there.
Thinking I could get more fun from my crumbly new pal, I went in and exclaimed
"Bet you can't guess what I've got in my rucksac (hehheh)"
Dave just looked me directly and calmly said, "a dead cat" before settling down in his armchair, smiling.
Neither of the mates at the garage knew where I was going, Maxine or Dave.
I'll never understand how Dave was right, he KNEW.
Brrr.
Irony:-
I still have the cat, but the mice have been nibbling at it.
(Fri 29th Feb 2008, 21:59, More)
Dry Pussy
I like cats, not particularly squeamish though; So when two mates and I were cleaning out a horrendously packed full of crap garage (to the roof) and found the mummified cat under a mattress, I wasn't fazed. Despite the agonised look on its'half eaten face.
I (the veggie) went to clean it up, whilst the other two (manly meat types) cringed and whimpered. It was interesting from an anatomy point of view so I smiled evilly at them and after wrapping it, popped my new friend in the haversac (that worried them)
and trundled off on my ancient motorbike.
Here's the good bit.
I rode over to Maxines' place a mile away (said I'd visit) and her strange mate Dave was there.
Thinking I could get more fun from my crumbly new pal, I went in and exclaimed
"Bet you can't guess what I've got in my rucksac (hehheh)"
Dave just looked me directly and calmly said, "a dead cat" before settling down in his armchair, smiling.
Neither of the mates at the garage knew where I was going, Maxine or Dave.
I'll never understand how Dave was right, he KNEW.
Brrr.
Irony:-
I still have the cat, but the mice have been nibbling at it.
(Fri 29th Feb 2008, 21:59, More)
» I'm Sorry I've Written A Joke
Old users! How do you upset a millennial?
Give them your mortgage repayment date.
(Sun 2nd Sep 2018, 17:40, More)
Old users! How do you upset a millennial?
Give them your mortgage repayment date.
(Sun 2nd Sep 2018, 17:40, More)
» What Makes You Cry?
Watership Down
When Elahrairah comes to take Hazel.
I still get upset at this scene.
(Mon 11th Aug 2014, 1:01, More)
Watership Down
When Elahrairah comes to take Hazel.
I still get upset at this scene.
(Mon 11th Aug 2014, 1:01, More)
» Drugs
After many years of serious experimentation, I decided to slow down a bit.
About to start a new career/life etc. I suddenly became really mentally ill and have been working my way through some of the weirdest chemicals known to psychiatry since. Along with the codiene I take for the bike injuries, the Duloxetine and Lithium make for an odd outlook. Didn't like Velanfaxine, my old friend Dutonin was withdrawn and not allowed Buproprion (pity).
Self and friends found the listing of 'death' in a lithium side effects leaflet amusing.
Still cannot find the plot.
Edit: Tried others years ago Prothiaden (heavy downer), Gamanil, Zopiclone (odd sleeper), Mirtazapine etc.
(Fri 17th Sep 2010, 17:38, More)
After many years of serious experimentation, I decided to slow down a bit.
About to start a new career/life etc. I suddenly became really mentally ill and have been working my way through some of the weirdest chemicals known to psychiatry since. Along with the codiene I take for the bike injuries, the Duloxetine and Lithium make for an odd outlook. Didn't like Velanfaxine, my old friend Dutonin was withdrawn and not allowed Buproprion (pity).
Self and friends found the listing of 'death' in a lithium side effects leaflet amusing.
Still cannot find the plot.
Edit: Tried others years ago Prothiaden (heavy downer), Gamanil, Zopiclone (odd sleeper), Mirtazapine etc.
(Fri 17th Sep 2010, 17:38, More)
» Tales of the Unexplained
Weird chase.
Repetitive dream.
For a number of years, on and off, I’ve had this repetitive dream.
Not every week or month but on and off over the years at sort of random intervals.
Although vivid, I don’t see it in colour, rather a sort of scratched, washed-out sepia as though on a movie from the 1920s; a whiff of cigar smoke in the salty air.
Here is how it goes:-
“I’m standing in a street in New York the date is 1984 waiting for a bus, somehow everything is blurred, no, not blurred, indistinct.
There are people running past, away from something, I don’t recognise any of them, yet four seem familiar in overalls. They carry some sort of weapon each, held out in front of them and run the other way.
Then I see it, or rather, part of it.
A bloated whiteness, so large it fills the spaces between the buildings and the sky.
Running toward the careering bus, the doors opening as I jump.
Closing behind me, just.
Desperately looking about, there is no-one here, nobody even driving the strange old bus. So I make for the steps to the upper deck, there must be somebody here?
To my horror the steps go on and on, never ending.
Shattered by now, I clamber onward until I finally run out of puff. Looking up, I see it, written before me on the whiteness STAY PUFT”
And that’s how it usually ends,
my ghost-bus-stairs nightmare.
/runs off cackling
(Fri 4th Jul 2008, 1:21, More)
Weird chase.
Repetitive dream.
For a number of years, on and off, I’ve had this repetitive dream.
Not every week or month but on and off over the years at sort of random intervals.
Although vivid, I don’t see it in colour, rather a sort of scratched, washed-out sepia as though on a movie from the 1920s; a whiff of cigar smoke in the salty air.
Here is how it goes:-
“I’m standing in a street in New York the date is 1984 waiting for a bus, somehow everything is blurred, no, not blurred, indistinct.
There are people running past, away from something, I don’t recognise any of them, yet four seem familiar in overalls. They carry some sort of weapon each, held out in front of them and run the other way.
Then I see it, or rather, part of it.
A bloated whiteness, so large it fills the spaces between the buildings and the sky.
Running toward the careering bus, the doors opening as I jump.
Closing behind me, just.
Desperately looking about, there is no-one here, nobody even driving the strange old bus. So I make for the steps to the upper deck, there must be somebody here?
To my horror the steps go on and on, never ending.
Shattered by now, I clamber onward until I finally run out of puff. Looking up, I see it, written before me on the whiteness STAY PUFT”
And that’s how it usually ends,
my ghost-bus-stairs nightmare.
/runs off cackling
(Fri 4th Jul 2008, 1:21, More)