Here, right so: Dave is pretty smart. His head’ll swell if I say ‘really’ smart, so it’s just ‘pretty’. He loves maths and algorithms and all those things I hate. Dave likes to fuck around and make new little formulas, and his latest thing is a programme that analyses large examples of text, then rearranges it into new sentences. And he’s done it to my site.
And lo, below you will find the result: generated completely at random from the snowfall of daft old blog posts that make up this website, a few dozen barmy snippets of prose. They actually sound like me, which is weird. They make fuck all sense, of course, but they’re entertaining. Some are funny, some are bizarre, and some read like neo-noir science fiction haikus, which is pretty cool.
Give it a read – and try not to think about robots taking over and stealing all our jobs and whatnot. It probably won’t happen. It’s going to be fine. Everything will be fine. Continue reading
Part One: The Reunion
Two weeks ago I reconnected with someone from my past; a girl I loved once, very much. I hadn’t planned on it – I was simply sat alone one lunchtime by the canal near Admiralsbrücke watching the swans, enjoying the last warmth of the autumn sun, when I was clobbered out of nowhere by a brutal realisation. I owed this girl an apology. A really, really big apology. Maya tore me to ribbons, without a doubt, but her actions were the fallout of the explosion of my own idiocy. Continue reading
Drink, Play, Loathe – Day 3, Paris
Note from present Dan: The following happened on the same evening as the previous article. However, I felt it best to split the day into two sections, as my life/death contemplations earlier in the afternoon didn’t seem to mesh very well with the vomiting and aggressive dry humping that occurred later that evening. Continue reading
This post actually took place on the same day as the Bärenquell adventure with my girlfriend, who we shall once more refer to as Maya, in the interest of her modesty. We shall refer to the other character in the tale (me) without alias, for I have no shame.
So then, mucky, bruised yet elated, we left the old brewery behind us and frolicked our way back to the city. We grabbed some Vietnamese food in Kreuzberg, in an establishment that served excellent dumplings but which was let down by a surly waitress whose sole expression can be fairly summarised as ‘hateful glowering’. With our bellies full of reasonably priced noodles, we skipped over to Hauptbahnhof, which my sources tell me means ‘Central Station’ in German. It is very large, and there was a man vomiting loudly on the floor outside a sandwich shop. Continue reading
I know right? Hell of a title, that. Doesn’t it just make you want to dive right into the article and find out what the fuck I’ve been up to? Don’t worry, I’ll let you in on the goss. Continue reading