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the end thursday, may 03, 2007 hello. i'm joe, a 15 year old geek from glasgow. well i don't think i'm a geek but since that's the general opinion of all my friends i guess i'll go with that. what else? i guess that i can start with what i like. that was almost three years ago, when i first logged on to blogger and crafted my first and very badly written post. i thought it was brilliant, funny, and that any moment i would be snapped up by a publishing company. it’s amazing now to look back and see what my style was like, when i shortened words and said “itz” instead of “it’s” (i still shudder inwardly whenever i read that). and that was only in the beginning of my quest to plague the internet. six hundred posts later and here i am, mission accomplished. they say that one of the hardest parts to writing a story would be coming up with a good ending. to end a story you need a conclusion, or a cliff-hanger, or a resolution of some sort just to bring the arc to a close. but not always. sometimes the story can go on forever, with infinite amounts of plot twists and revelations, but the narrative has to end – otherwise what’s really important will be bogged down with too much text. in the sea of words the reader will miss the development, the growth of character. all the metaphors, imagery, word choice will be lost in the never-ending story. when the narrative runs its course, it doesn’t mean the end of the story. the characters will continue to live their lives. they’ll continue to smile, laugh, cry, hate, live and die – they just don’t need a narrative to tell it anymore. hello. i’m joe, an 18 year old writer from glasgow. well, i don’t consider myself a writer just yet, but it seems to be the general opinion of a lot of my friends so i’ll go with it anyway. what else? i guess i can write whatever i like really. and write i will. the soft whispers of the night monday, april 30, 2007 there was the soft rustle of bed sheets and the mattress uttered a welcoming groan as i made myself comfortable. the room was dark with the scratching of strange creatures and reverberating thuds from downstairs, but the bed was reassuringly warm. she moved beside me, stretching her arm against my chest and lifting her head to welcome my arm under it. her head rested in the crook of my shoulder, and i breathed in her bubblegum hair with deep risings of my chest. socks had been kicked off, and pyjamas hung loosely from our bodies. i breathe in and out and feel her head rise and fall with my breath, and i crack a smile i can’t stop smiling. i slip round behind her, wrapping my arms round her shoulder and kissing the nape of her neck, hearing her let out quick gasps of excited breath as i work my way down to her bare shoulder and back up again. her skin is velvet smooth and seems to shine despite the lack of light, and as i run a hand from her knee up to her flat stomach (over a pair of stylish girl-boxers) it seems to shine more intensely. she twists round and smiles at me – that smile – and i can see teeth nibbling at her lip as long black hair tumbles over her face. she leans over and kisses me lightly on the cheek, the skin on my chest tingling as it touches the skin of her arm, her hand softly caressing my other cheek with fingers dipping slightly into my hair. i can feel her heartbeat through my skin as our legs intertwine and my heart is soon audible, thumping with excitement and lust as she kisses my chest. her beautifully shining eyes look up at me with a feline twinkle, and the shadow of a devious smile on her lips. when i wake up i’m back in my own bed, a patch of sun streaming from the unclosed blinds and warming my face. i sit there, unmoving in the blindingly comfortable sun, and take stock of the previous night’s events. did it happen? did i imagine it? was it all pretend? it doesn’t really matter, i thought languidly, not in the end. i picked up my phone and dialled a long number, waiting patiently for it to be picked up, and when it was i laughed and i smiled. ‘you were right you bastard.’ i said, hanging up. i put the phone back on my bedside table and let my head become engulfed by the pillow before falling back asleep. a parting to remember wednesday, april 25, 2007 “now,” he said, his upmarket english accent shining through with every syllable, “in english, it’s possible to analyse any text. whether it be a book, a script for a film, or this…” he switched on the overhead projector, making the wall behind him light up and a few lines of silhouetted text float in mid air. we read the words slowly before recognition dawned and muffled giggles ran up and down the lecture hall. the lecturer, looking smart in his suit jacket and pinstriped trousers, pulled out a red marker and set to work. “as always, when it comes to poetry, we mark out how many syllables are in each line; in this one it comes to ten, nine, seven and eight – so we can rule it out as being a sonnet of any kind. however, due to the rhythm we cannot rule out it being a ballad. now, can anyone well me what we do next?” the hall was thick with a stunned silence. “we look at stresses . starting with the polysyllabic words we can easily determine if there is an organised rhythm. so the only polysyllabic words here are here, here and here,” he said, circling ‘milkshake’ and the two instances of ‘better’. “it’s easy to see that the stress is on the ‘milk’ here, because your wouldn’t get milk shake , and the same for 'better'… but what about this line here?” he indicated to the third line. “would you say it was ‘ damn right’ or ‘damn right ’?” his english accent blatantly obvious at this point “if we follow the pattern, we can see that the poem does follow the pattern of a ballad, as the third line demonstrates: ‘damn right , it’s bet ter than yours .’” a few muffled laughs. “also, when we’re inferring like this – that’s right, we’re inferring – we can speculate on the meaning behind this poem. it seems to be that this girl makes very good milkshakes, milkshakes that attract a lot of men. and, it seems to be, that she makes milkshakes better than this other girl, who she offers to teach for a charge.” we all laugh; the lecturer’s naiveté seemingly genuine as he looked at us with his innocently bald head. for a moment i actually thought he believed that the song was only about some girl’s milkshake making abilities, until he started speculating what was meant by milkshake. his gleam of innocence was quickly lost after he gave numerous examples (including felching ) as the definition behind it. best. english lecture. ever. the science of sleep monday, april 23, 2007 i have a psychology test coming up within the next hour. but, instead of studying diligently, i am being forced to blog. i'm having the strangest dreams these days. little situations and scenes that invade my subconscious and make my eyes dance under their lids. i experience them in complete reality, not knowing their dreams until the sun filters through my blinds and put to light the farce of my late night experiences. there was an occasion where my brother and i were relaxing on a couch watching pulp fiction when we were recruited to find a missing cat. grudgingly we searched the mansion and found a secret attic full of stuffed cats, when we confronted the owner she pulled out a sleek silver 9mm and popped a cap in chris' ass, so to speak. before i knew it i was on the run, stumbling down bergen main street in an attempt to flee my pursuer. i lifted an iron bar from the gutter and began hammering at glass door, yelling at them to let me in now. but too late, for when the doors finally creaked open an inch a bullet flew past my head and i shot off at a run. suddenly i was in the countryside, running down a long main road. i tried to wave down any and all buses, but they just sped off without giving me a second glance. with hope running out and my gun wielding pursuer closing the gap between us, i stuck out my thumb in the futile attempt to hit

URL analysis for littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk

http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2004/06/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2007/01/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2004/12/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2004/10/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2007/04/if-only-life-came-with-subtitles.html#comments
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2007/04/settling.html
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2005/07/unless-of-course-god-lives-outside-of.html
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2006/06/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2007/04/science-of-sleep.html
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2005/06/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2006/04/
http://www.littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk/2004/08/
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kiwiqueen.co.uk

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  REFERRER http://www.nominet.org.uk

  REGISTRAR Nominet UK

SERVERS

  SERVER co.uk.whois-servers.net

  ARGS littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk

  PORT 43

  TYPE domain

DISCLAIMER
This WHOIS information is provided for free by Nominet UK the central registry
for .uk domain names. This information and the .uk WHOIS are:
Copyright Nominet UK 1996 - 2018.
You may not access the .uk WHOIS or use any data from it except as permitted
by the terms of use available in full at https://www.nominet.uk/whoisterms,
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  NAME littleresearchmonkeyboy.co.uk

NSERVER

  NS14.DOMAINCONTROL.COM 173.201.74.7

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