She never feels. She never smiles or feels that rush of happiness. She never cries or feels the searing pain of sadness. She never laughs or frowns or regrets or feels all consuming jealously. She is neither kind nor heartless. Her face is set in stone as it will always be. If she could experience the pleasure of human emotions she would long desperately and deeply to hate. To know the sense of pure disgust and unadulterated vengeance. To crave the thrill of the kill. To hunt and attack and rid her life of the despised.
But she never feels.
Written by a Blank Elf x
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Road Kill
I watched in sickened shock as the crimson blood oozed from his legs like liquid velvet. The syrupy consistency made me think of pancakes. But I quickly remembered not to think of pancakes and instead be more concerned with the baby deer bleeding slowly and excruciatingly to death on my kitchen floor. Then I thought of Bambi and how it always struck me as bizarre that a deer could have a rabbit for a friend. There was no rabbit to be seen here. The deer was dying alone, with no-one to comfort it apart from me, an unsympathetic killer of small animals.
I'd hit it on the road turning into my driveway and had been so surprised to see a deer in the city that I almost forgot to be concerned at all. But, heartless as I was, I was definitely not accustomed to dealing with roadkill in the presence of my neighbours; so I scooped the bloody mess of bones, fur and skin into my arms and carried it into the kitchen. Which is where it lay now, it's hind leg bent at an awkward angle and pointing towards it's right ear.I wasn't really sure what to do. Most people would have panicked and called the RSPCA, but I just stood by the sink watching it quiver and convulse like an awkward, electrified toy. Right it was time to act. I opened to kictchen cupboard to find a blanket; as we kept clean laundry in the kitchen in those days, space saving was the reason I think.
I gingerly placed the pale blue blanket over the deer - Bambi; I had christened the mess in my head. It turned brown instantly as the sticky gloop soaked through. Oh dear, I hadn't achieved much at all aside from ruining my pale blue blanket.
There must be something to do. Kill it? Put it out of its insufferable misery? No, I wouldn't want to bloody anymore of my possessions with brain pulp. What could be done then? I supposed I would have to leave it to die alone in the kitchen, Grand Designs was on soon anyway and I needed to catch the episode for space saving, laundry storage tips.
He'd clear it up for me when he got home. He doesn't like a messy house.
Written by an Elf x
Monday, 20 September 2010
To Tap or Not to Tap?
It's late at night or it's a Sunday. The gates at the station are open or there are no gates, only a lone Oyster card reader on the platform. What do I do?
If I take the risk and don't tap, hoping to get my much deserved free ride from Transport for London, then what will happen if I get to the other end of my journey and the gates are shut! I won't be able to get out and I'll have to buy a full price ticket when I could have just tapped in at the start and tapped out at the end!
But if I tap and then the gates are open at the other end, I will have wasted money as I've got to tap out. I'll be charged for a journey I could have got for free and kick myself for tapping.
It's such a cruel game of chance of the Underground. What I really need is an informant at the stations I frequent to tell me in advance whether the gates are open or not, so I can make a much more educated decision on my tapping habits.
It's the morning commute and I KNOW that by catching the 9.49 train, it will pull into the platform in Euston where there are no barriers, where I wont need to tap to get out. The station I get on at has 'up to you Oyster readers', no gates, just casually positioned readers which offer you the chance to tap or not to tap.
Therefore, I KNOW I don't really need to tap in or out, because there is no automated gate system either end. But what if a ticket inspector gets on and checks my Oyster card and sees that I haven't paid for my journey! Then I'll receive a fine!
So do I take the risk? Do I not tap and save £3.40 but sit in a state of anxious panic the whole way, expecting the inspector's bellowing voice to penetrate my nervous mind at any second and risk a £20 fine. Or do I just pay and enjoy my journey in the comfortable knowledge that I am abiding by the TFL laws. But if an inspector doesn't come then I'll be frustrated for at least an hour and wish I'd just not tapped in or out!
AAAH commuting is a daily dilemma.
If I take the risk and don't tap, hoping to get my much deserved free ride from Transport for London, then what will happen if I get to the other end of my journey and the gates are shut! I won't be able to get out and I'll have to buy a full price ticket when I could have just tapped in at the start and tapped out at the end!
But if I tap and then the gates are open at the other end, I will have wasted money as I've got to tap out. I'll be charged for a journey I could have got for free and kick myself for tapping.
It's such a cruel game of chance of the Underground. What I really need is an informant at the stations I frequent to tell me in advance whether the gates are open or not, so I can make a much more educated decision on my tapping habits.
It's the morning commute and I KNOW that by catching the 9.49 train, it will pull into the platform in Euston where there are no barriers, where I wont need to tap to get out. The station I get on at has 'up to you Oyster readers', no gates, just casually positioned readers which offer you the chance to tap or not to tap.
Therefore, I KNOW I don't really need to tap in or out, because there is no automated gate system either end. But what if a ticket inspector gets on and checks my Oyster card and sees that I haven't paid for my journey! Then I'll receive a fine!
So do I take the risk? Do I not tap and save £3.40 but sit in a state of anxious panic the whole way, expecting the inspector's bellowing voice to penetrate my nervous mind at any second and risk a £20 fine. Or do I just pay and enjoy my journey in the comfortable knowledge that I am abiding by the TFL laws. But if an inspector doesn't come then I'll be frustrated for at least an hour and wish I'd just not tapped in or out!
AAAH commuting is a daily dilemma.
Peace out from the Elf in an Oyster x
The Spawn of Satan
Friday, 17 September 2010
Always Say Yes
A very wise and wonderful woman once told me that the secret to her half century marriage was 'Always say yes' yet modern magazines and the general consensus amongst woman kind is 'Just say no'. So which is the right approach?
Just saying NO is meant to empower you and give you control over the nasty, chauvinistic men of this world who want only to find the quickest and fastest route into your underwear with a complete disregard for road safety along the way.
It's meant to make you feel like you have choice over your behavior and that you don't have to conform to the wants and needs of your male counterpart. [as no self respecting person wants to conform to the man these days.. rebellion is cool, so I've heard]
But could it be that saying NO can get out of hand.
First you are politely but firmly refusing their offer to pay for dinner and your taxi home -I'm a woman with a job, why should they pay, we don't live in the 1920's!
Then outraged at his advances you say no to a goodnight kiss -I only wanted to show her I like her, I wasn't going to try and rip her clothes off on the doorstep!
Next you're refusing that second date, why? Because saying NO is empowering. So where has this left you hmm?
Alternatively we could look at the implementation of the NO technique within a relationship.
You say no to sex, to him going out with friends, to his request that you just try Call of Duty to see what it's like.. and just like that you have one angry man with nothing and you, the empowered woman are left wondering, why he doesn't seem to love you anymore?
The YES method can be applied in a reversed fashion, despite the obvious fact you may be agreeing to do many things you don't want to. Like taking a 7month trip around Asia in a canoe, or similar.
But as much as it pains me to say it and I am expecting a feminist riotous mob to come bursting through any second now.. could it be that the road to happiness lies in a man's happiness? AAHH don't shoot!
Perhaps I can put it less controversially and take it back to the start. The secret to a wise woman's 50 year marriage was Always say yes..
So the road to relationship success is pandering to your partner's every need? compromise? love? laughter? happiness? quiche? Who knows really. Certainly not me.
But it is an interesting thought to ponder...
Just saying NO is meant to empower you and give you control over the nasty, chauvinistic men of this world who want only to find the quickest and fastest route into your underwear with a complete disregard for road safety along the way.
It's meant to make you feel like you have choice over your behavior and that you don't have to conform to the wants and needs of your male counterpart. [as no self respecting person wants to conform to the man these days.. rebellion is cool, so I've heard]
But could it be that saying NO can get out of hand.
First you are politely but firmly refusing their offer to pay for dinner and your taxi home -I'm a woman with a job, why should they pay, we don't live in the 1920's!
Then outraged at his advances you say no to a goodnight kiss -I only wanted to show her I like her, I wasn't going to try and rip her clothes off on the doorstep!
Next you're refusing that second date, why? Because saying NO is empowering. So where has this left you hmm?
Alternatively we could look at the implementation of the NO technique within a relationship.
You say no to sex, to him going out with friends, to his request that you just try Call of Duty to see what it's like.. and just like that you have one angry man with nothing and you, the empowered woman are left wondering, why he doesn't seem to love you anymore?
The YES method can be applied in a reversed fashion, despite the obvious fact you may be agreeing to do many things you don't want to. Like taking a 7month trip around Asia in a canoe, or similar.
But as much as it pains me to say it and I am expecting a feminist riotous mob to come bursting through any second now.. could it be that the road to happiness lies in a man's happiness? AAHH don't shoot!
Perhaps I can put it less controversially and take it back to the start. The secret to a wise woman's 50 year marriage was Always say yes..
So the road to relationship success is pandering to your partner's every need? compromise? love? laughter? happiness? quiche? Who knows really. Certainly not me.
But it is an interesting thought to ponder...
The soon t0 be lynched Elf x
Monday, 13 September 2010
Why Advertising Has Lost Touch With Reality
Socks Don't Stand a ..Why why why why does it matter whether the BOTTOM, the SOLES of your socks are white or not?! The only time someone would ever see the sole of your sock would be if you had your shoes off and feet up.
This would mainly happen when you are watching TV on a sofa in a super relaxed fashion; and the people you would do this around would tend to be family, loved ones or friends, who realistically could not give two fucks whether the underneath of your socks is dirty or not.
Your partner is never going to turn around to you and say 'MY GOD THE BOTTOM OF YOUR SOCKS ARE WHITE. MAKE SWEET LOVE TO ME IMMEDIATELY'.
The type of people you may need to impress with cleanliness and smartness are your boss, or someone giving you a job interview, or on a first date, but in all these instances you would never ever ever be in a position where they would see the bottom of your socks.
Oh and Ariel. No one lives in a house where the ceiling on the ground floor is clear perspex and you can see the socks of the person walking above you on the second floor.
Please come up with an advertising campaign which is realistic. Thanks.
Peace out from the dirty sock Elf x
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Blank
Sometimes he just lies and thinks of nothingness. The ultimate meditative state, a blank mind, blank body, blank soul. The existential emptiness of the universe courses round his blood stream, flowing to the tips of his extremities. He is one with human suffering; his heart beats in unity with the hungry, his lungs deflate with the last breath of the dying. Stillness overwhelms. He doesn't flinch as the screams pierce his ears, their desperate pleas for solace unable to penetrate his consciousness.
The machines beep periodically, signaling the end of the infusion. He needs to press the call bell but his paralysed body wont allow it. With all the effort in the empty vessel he once knew as a body, he attempts to produce some kind of audible sound from his dry, cracked lips. But his labours are in vain. His most prized tool now a functionless facet on his face; it used to spout beautiful poetic melodies in the company of women who gazed up adoringly.
The control centre refuses point blank to send the signals he needs.
Frustration bubbles and brews, trapped in his skin with no outlet with which to spew out.
The machine beeps and his expressionless eyes portray no signs of the sadness within. He takes a breath and closes the lids. He falls back into the ultimate meditative state, a blank mind, a blank body, a blank soul. He just thinks of nothingness.
The machines beep periodically, signaling the end of the infusion. He needs to press the call bell but his paralysed body wont allow it. With all the effort in the empty vessel he once knew as a body, he attempts to produce some kind of audible sound from his dry, cracked lips. But his labours are in vain. His most prized tool now a functionless facet on his face; it used to spout beautiful poetic melodies in the company of women who gazed up adoringly.
The control centre refuses point blank to send the signals he needs.
Frustration bubbles and brews, trapped in his skin with no outlet with which to spew out.
The machine beeps and his expressionless eyes portray no signs of the sadness within. He takes a breath and closes the lids. He falls back into the ultimate meditative state, a blank mind, a blank body, a blank soul. He just thinks of nothingness.
Written by an Elf x
Things That Sicken Me on The Morning Commute
1. The depressing realisation that chivalry is without a doubt, no question, absolutely, definitely and ceremoniously DEAD
Commuters have one thing and one thing only on their mind, BE THE FIRST. Be the first down the escalator, the first on the train, the first off the train, the first through the barriers, the first to knock you out the way. As they partake in this highly competitive Olympic sport, the voices in their head commentate and spur them on 'And I'm coming up on the inside, smashing that child with my suitcase, taking those perilous steps 3 at a time coz I am the King of the Underground! I AM SPARTA'
No sir, you are not. You are just a man living a monotonous life where the only excitement you can exact from your day comes from bulldozing me out the way to get on the train a fraction of a second before I do, or before the pregnant lady with the buggy and shopping does; because god forbid she, oh weak female, should beat you in the race of all races!
2. The sound of couples kissing next to me
When I kiss my boyfriend it's fine. But when you start kissing and sucking and slurping with your partner next to me on the train it is completely unacceptable. The sickening sound of your saliva mixing and spreading around each others' mouth is enough to make me want to vomit all over your faces so you can swap that around as well.
Just stop.
3. When people seem angry that I'm studying them
I'm on a train, there is not much going on apart from what is around me. And unfortunately Sir/Madam, you are a part of the scenery and I want to look at you. I want to absorb every detail about everyone around me, I want to scruntinise your expression, all the lines on your face, the scuffs on your shoes, whether you have hairy arms or an immaculate manicure. I'm not judging you, I'm just looking. I'm just passing the time and noting details about the variants of humans.
Just let me look at you. I'm not perving. I'm just looking.
4. When people study me
Why are you looking at me you pervy man?! Stop taking in every detail about me, stop scruntising my expression and the state of my shoes and my nails! Stop judging me and sizing me up! Let me travel without your eyes boring into my psyche.
5. The notion that it's unsanitary to eat my sandwich on the train
For some unknown reason I never want to get out uncovered food on the train; I feel like it would absorb all the germs of the people around me and make my sandwich taste like sweat and snot and saliva. I know this is a completely unfounded thought as I'm happy to eat food walking along the street, with all manner of pollution and germs seeping into the bread. But on a train. NO WAY! Are you kidding?! That's disgusting.
I get hungry on the train, all that looking and pushing and waiting, but I musn't eat my sandwich. I've got to wait until I'm out in that fresh, fume filled air.
More to be added I'm sure.
Commuters have one thing and one thing only on their mind, BE THE FIRST. Be the first down the escalator, the first on the train, the first off the train, the first through the barriers, the first to knock you out the way. As they partake in this highly competitive Olympic sport, the voices in their head commentate and spur them on 'And I'm coming up on the inside, smashing that child with my suitcase, taking those perilous steps 3 at a time coz I am the King of the Underground! I AM SPARTA'
No sir, you are not. You are just a man living a monotonous life where the only excitement you can exact from your day comes from bulldozing me out the way to get on the train a fraction of a second before I do, or before the pregnant lady with the buggy and shopping does; because god forbid she, oh weak female, should beat you in the race of all races!
2. The sound of couples kissing next to me
When I kiss my boyfriend it's fine. But when you start kissing and sucking and slurping with your partner next to me on the train it is completely unacceptable. The sickening sound of your saliva mixing and spreading around each others' mouth is enough to make me want to vomit all over your faces so you can swap that around as well.
Just stop.
3. When people seem angry that I'm studying them
I'm on a train, there is not much going on apart from what is around me. And unfortunately Sir/Madam, you are a part of the scenery and I want to look at you. I want to absorb every detail about everyone around me, I want to scruntinise your expression, all the lines on your face, the scuffs on your shoes, whether you have hairy arms or an immaculate manicure. I'm not judging you, I'm just looking. I'm just passing the time and noting details about the variants of humans.
Just let me look at you. I'm not perving. I'm just looking.
4. When people study me
Why are you looking at me you pervy man?! Stop taking in every detail about me, stop scruntising my expression and the state of my shoes and my nails! Stop judging me and sizing me up! Let me travel without your eyes boring into my psyche.
5. The notion that it's unsanitary to eat my sandwich on the train
For some unknown reason I never want to get out uncovered food on the train; I feel like it would absorb all the germs of the people around me and make my sandwich taste like sweat and snot and saliva. I know this is a completely unfounded thought as I'm happy to eat food walking along the street, with all manner of pollution and germs seeping into the bread. But on a train. NO WAY! Are you kidding?! That's disgusting.
I get hungry on the train, all that looking and pushing and waiting, but I musn't eat my sandwich. I've got to wait until I'm out in that fresh, fume filled air.
More to be added I'm sure.
Peace out from the travelling Elf x
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