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Mike Burrell
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Roast Ox Flavoured Crisps

3 min read
I recently made the mistake of buying a turquoise teapot. The fact that it is turquoise is not a problem; I happen to like turquoise and the interesting pseudo-japonisme floral pattern in pink also failed to make me uncomfortable in my masculinity. The problem with said teapot, is that it is a teapot.
Teapots, if you hadn't inferred from the name, are essentially pots that hold tea (an ingenious infusion of weeds and hot water) in large quantities. And this is where the problem arises. Whereas previously I would have to suffice with only one cup, and have to battle laziness and apathy (I fight I never win, but have to get panic and deadline to come and tag-team them) and fetch a second. I now have access to my own personal teapot, which sits, gently simmering, on my desk. With the handy additions of a bone-china cup (plus saucer!), milk-jug, sugar-pot and spoon, I now find myself easily consuming five or six cups within the hour.
Needless to say, the continuous caffeine-high has forced me onto a new plain of existence. Nirvana via Earl Grey.

Back to Roast Ox. On my frequent travels downstairs (which are arduous but often necessary, else I starve to death) I find myself regarding the larder with the bemused squint of those who have to focus very, very hard to actually detect things in the empirical world. Upon opening aforementioned cupboard I find a packet of crisps (having previously disallowed myself from eating both raw jam and flour), and march off back up the stairs - crisps clasped in my caffeine-enfeebled claws.

Upon arriving in my room, and flopping elegantly into my swivel-chair (with elegantly threw me off; swivel chairs having no time for flopping) I examined the packet. Written in bold white on navy-blue where the words 'Real Crisps' and under that 'handcooked' and further under that, the words: 'Roast Ox Flavour.'

What? WHAT? My brain rallied against my eyes for a moment and all I could see was little orange stars. Ox!?

Hungry and exhausted, I gave in and ate the damn things.

They where quite nice.

In other news, :iconizzymedrano: has painted a rather dashing (yet surprisingly green) characiture of yours truely. A must see, obviously. www.deviantart.com/deviation/5…
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Of Examinations, Prefects and Bios

3 min read
I've got two more exams to do next week on Philosophy and History and then I have about eleven weeks free time. Did someone say 'daily updates?' Yes. Yes they did.

I've been elected a Prefect at my college. Yeah, Harry Potter style. I missed getting 'Head Boy' by a few votes, which only helps to restore my faith in the electorate.
No, I don't get a badge. Yes, that does make me sad.

Funky questionnaire Bio The Glome did, I did it too because I'm a mindless sheep following fashion.
Enjoy the pointless personal details. Please, feel free to do it yourself, when I have ensnared you in my Saw-esque torture-based mind-games this information will give me the edge I need to brake you like brightly coloured cocktail sticks you are.
Bwha ha ha ha. [Lacks Enthusiasm]

-- Name: Mike
-- Birthdate: 31/03/1990
-- Nicknames: Mooshka.. Well - by my siblings.
-- Location: Southern Britain
-- Eye Colour: Blue
-- Hair Colour: Blonde... red beard.
-- Righty or Lefty: Right, but only for writing - everything else is left.

-- The shoes you wore today: White Patent Leather
-- Your perfect pizza: Ham, Mushroom.
-- Your best physical feature: Penis
-- Most missed memory: I can't remember, if I could, I wouldn't miss it.

-- Pepsi or Coke: Capitalist Pigs
-- Adidas or Nike: Slave-Driving Capitalist Pigs
-- Chocolate or Vanilla: Strawberry, the 3rd minority of ice-cream.
-- Cappuccino or Coffee: Isn't Cappuccino a type of coffee? I'll stick to tea.

-- Do you sing: A deep tenor in the shower and the bedroom.
-- Do you think you will go to college: Already in college - now I got to get to Uni!
-- Get motion sickness: Not at all, I read the entirety of Plato's Republic driving through France.
-- Think you're a health freak: No, but the doctors say I'm in denial.
-- Get along with your parents: I'll mourn for them.
-- Play an instrument: The piano, poorly.

In the past month...
-- Drank alcohol: Yes.
-- Gone to the mall: Yes.
-- Kissed someone: Yes
-- Eaten an entire box of Oreos: I ate two packets of Bourbon Biscuits... does that count?
-- Eaten Sushi: Sorry, no.
-- Been on stage: Yes - I was elected a college prefect.
-- Gone skating: Not my scene, daddy-o.
-- Made homemade cookies: Cooked Victoria sponge, if that counts.
-- Stolen anything: I call it borrowing.

Have you ever...
-- Lied about your age: Never had to.
-- Used a fake I.D: Oooh, the scandal of the American middle-classes!

-- Age you hope to be married: Oh, late twenties, early thirties, perhaps.
-- Number of Children: It's lady's choice.

In a guy/girl...
-- Best eye colour: Brown, glasses are always fun.
-- Best hair colour: Brown or Red - Blondes just don't cut it.
-- Short hair or long hair: Either very long or very short - extremes make life interesting.

-- Number of people I could trust with my life: 13, one is a cat.
-- Number of cds you own: 7, thank you digital age.
-- Number of piercings: None
-- Number of tattoos: None, although I'm thinking of black rings on my finger-joints.

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Of my Mother in Heaven (Religious Arguement)

4 min read
Just to clarify my Mother is not, at this moment in time, dead. Nor am I some zealot who believes he has a celestial entity posing as a matriarchal figure - however cool that might be.

Before I begin, some music - www.radioblogclub.com/open/960…
I'm quite into melodramatic French things. Especially if they have breasts.

However, an interesting point was raised while we prepared dinner together in a scene of domestic bliss. Which, of course, led us to talk about the existence of God being worthy of worship in the Judaeo-Christian context, the argument (as the pasta simmered) revolved around the concept of the 'Inconsistent Triad' a device of logic that argues that God is not worthy of worship for he allows suffering/evil in the world.

1. If he really was all-loving, he is not all powerful as he cannot prevent the innocent suffering (therefore is he truly worthy of human worship?).
2. If he was all powerful, he must be evil to allow the innocent to suffer (Should humans worship something that is evil?).
3. If he is all-powerful and all-loving (as Judaeo-Christian theology states), then why is there suffering/evil?

Irenaeus' (French fella, beard) opposition is that those who suffer are compensated in Paradise. This notion led to, of course, a discussion of what exactly paradise was.

I gave the definition of 'A place in which one is content and happy.' Which is true, to a degree; when you lay on the tropical beach - what's the first thing you say?

Mother rejected this saying that Paradise must be very boring then, for humans only achieve contentment for having strived against hardship to obtain happiness, and therefore a place where these are eternal givens was self-contradictory. This was probably why Eve ate the Fruit of Knowledge and forced humanity to leave Eden - pure bordom. In the real world outside of the contrived paradise of Eden man bloomed and found true contentment through overcoming hardship.

Well, then my response was that her Paradise would be a place in which she would be given challenges so she might feel satisfaction from overcoming them.

That would make Heaven, my dear (she replied), a false world much like the matrix; where we would be given fabricated challenges with no purpose.

Fine! Fine! (I call over my shoulder while slicing the broccoli ;) Heaven is therefore a place in which challenges have actual consequences if one failed to overcome obstacles.

Then (, she looks up at me and winks,) what is the difference between Heaven and Real-Life? I've had challenges in my life but I've won-through and here I am; happy and contented with how I am.   - "

Therefore, I present the notion to you that my mother found Nirvana while making Macaroni-Cheese on a gloomy Monday evening. I feel a little jealous but I guess the lesson is we all must face up to what life gives us and struggle through as no God is going to come down and save us... as he obviously cannot, or enjoys watching our pains.

Enjoy your Heaven Mother, until the next set of challenges.  

Post Scriptum
Yes, it was my Seventeenth Birthday last weekend. I'm glad you remembered. ;D I'm not a huge fan of people so kept it small, eating Chinese and playing Tekken. I've started my Driving Lessons - a sensation that I find very natural and I think learning to drive and taking my tests may be very enjoyable.

Best of luck everyone, please find inner-peace too!
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Cerulean Mephistopheles.

2 min read
I fully intended to write an expansive journal, explaining a good many interesting subjects to my audience. But, now I come to write, I find my mind is elsewhere.
It's been a busy few weeks and I haven't had much time, and that I have had I have sorely squandered. I dearly wish I could manage what few minutes I have effectively.
This time wasting and sense of hopeless non-accomplishment makes me feel, well, if I where a lesser man I would say 'depressed.' But for the time being we'll use 'Gloomy.'
I dunno, it just feel like I have less time than everyone else. Perhaps I should make a deal with the devil. Cure my blues, grant me more time.

Oh well, I have plenty to be getting on with - certainly my coursework which includes the creation of a film synopsis and drawing of a story-board for a scene of that film. Should be fun. I'll scan it in for all of you to see and comment on if you'd like. I dearly hope I can also get all the pieces of art and letters I'd promised various people done by my birthday, which is the 31st of March to be exact. I'll be 17, and, well, I'd hoped to be a lot more awesome than I am now, but I guess these things must be worked for.
Well, I'm off to find confidence and inspiration.

Some music for ya - www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nH5Bj…
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Of Snow and Demons.

2 min read
The sky was too low that day. The light, directionless and choking, illuminated the fallen corpse of my father at the bottom of the stairs.

A dark well filled with black water, my paternal reflection staring lifelessly back up at me. The Hitchcock steps seemed flimsy and unsubstantial, leaving only pulling space between me and the abyss.


It snowed today. As warm as blood and as sharp as razors.

I've decided to take drawing seriously; I hope you will continue to support me with your acumen.


My demon sat hunched against the twisted corpse of my father. Another face in the well.
"Howdy," he said.
Dressed snappily in a dark three piece suit. The casual-slick hair and starring blue eyes behind the shades more intimidating than horns or hellfire could ever be. Those I could laugh-off as silly cliché, the three piece suit I could not.

A long, lazy trail of swirling smoke escaped the gaps between his lips and traversed the hollows and ridges of his face, clouding those eyes with blind whiteness. Thick water filled my nostrils; I scented tobacco, storms and sex.
Esoteric pleasures of the Adult world.
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Roast Ox Flavoured Crisps by Mikenestin, journal

Of Examinations, Prefects and Bios by Mikenestin, journal

Of my Mother in Heaven (Religious Arguement) by Mikenestin, journal

Cerulean Mephistopheles. by Mikenestin, journal

Of Snow and Demons. by Mikenestin, journal