sanemagazine: wonderful rubbish

If I had a neighbour who had a hammer, and would hammer in the morning, and would hammer in the evening, and would hammer pretty much the entire day, I would be rather annoyed. I would think.
I would also probably be up for getting a hammer of my own and hammering some things.

As it is, I have been in this cell for the last couple of years or so, probably.
And carrots with dirt on them, dirt that you don't expect (having cleaned them, first, as one would be a bit daft to not expect carrots as they come out of the ground not to have dirt on them, the ground being one of the top sources of dirt in the world), that almost takes off a chunk of your tooth. I don't like that either.
If you're wondering, I've been imprisoned for crimes against my country, and it was either the incident in which I attempted to use hyperbole in too clever a manner in a publicly shown piece at the national art gallery or using the phrase 'dilettantes like me' in a public forum. And I now eat carrots with unexpected dirt on them and wonder what would have happened had I had a neighbour that took certain songs about hammers to heart. Not publically, which, come to think of it, may have been where I went wrong in the first place.
A small turtle managed to get into my cell at some point, possibly a few days or months earlier when I was thinking about brie, for some reason, and has by now made it across the floor until it sits (Well, it doesn't sit, it's still travelling, just very slowly. And since it's legs barely raise it off the ground you could consider it, if your definition of sitting was rather vague, to be sitting.) under the one window in my cell. It's shell glints in the sunlight, which causes me, I have no idea why, it just does, to look a little more closely, when I realise that it's not a turtle at all but my toothbrush.

Which is odd, because I don't remember having brought my toothbrush with me.

disclaimer:
Ladies and gentlemen, back in the Sane Magazine offices for the first time since 1998 and making his first ever appearance in London and what some people call the spongey isles of Great Britain (not many, granted), we are ever so proud to announce William Murphy's triumphant return to Sane Magazine and Q.I. Productions.

Adding to the celeb-spotters' joy and the regular parade of hipsters on the King's Road early Sunday afternoon William and the Sane Magazine Head Editor strolled, taking in the shoppes, chatting with some fans in an unscheduled appearance at Waterstone's, and having a few pints with the locals at Finch's on Fulham Road. William would like to disparage the rumours that at one point in the afternoon he saved a young woman's life, rescued a cat from a tree, and cured the common cold. All at the same time, and all without putting down his pint glass.

After practically bludgeoning the poor guy to death with 'phone calls (a death not nearly as much fun as a death by chocolate, for example) and persistence not seen this side of that scotch tape you'd assumed was safe to use to hang posters in your flat, we are proud, wildly joyful, and ecstatic all at once to have William Murphy, the author of Curious, a novel and the highly anticipated Sleep(s) on Chickens and one of the early Sane Magazine writers once again back in the office and on staff.
He'll be occasionally contributing articles to Sane Magazine, mentoring certain writers we've on staff, and doing publicity for Sane Magazine, mostly in the States, as we're not asking him to leave his Worcester, MA home to fulfill his obligations.

For the next week he'll be in London, making an official appearance at Waterstone's in Earl's Court, and working on a short film project he's been working on with a few people from the office for some time now, and which is slated to begin shooting sometime next month.

In other news, Q.I. Productions is pretty happy to announce the beta release of it's software licence and will be shipping it's first product later this week to interested parties.
For those interested in participating in our beta programme for the Sane Magazine horoscopes parser or future software, drop an email to software@sanemagazine.com.


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		archives horoscopes accessories contacts theatre fables home Add Sane Magazine to your My Netscape.		If I had a neighbour who had a hammer, and would hammer in the morning, and would hammer in the evening, and would hammer pretty much the entire day, I would be rather annoyed. I would think. I would also probably be up for getting a hammer of my own and hammering some things. As it is, I have been in this cell for the last couple of years or so, probably. And carrots with dirt on them, dirt that you don't expect (having cleaned them, first, as one would be a bit daft to not expect carrots as they come out of the ground not to have dirt on them, the ground being one of the top sources of dirt in the world), that almost takes off a chunk of your tooth. I don't like that either. If you're wondering, I've been imprisoned for crimes against my country, and it was either the incident in which I attempted to use hyperbole in too clever a manner in a publicly shown piece at the national art gallery or using the phrase 'dilettantes like me' in a public forum. And I now eat carrots with unexpected dirt on them and wonder what would have happened had I had a neighbour that took certain songs about hammers to heart. Not publically, which, come to think of it, may have been where I went wrong in the first place. A small turtle managed to get into my cell at some point, possibly a few days or months earlier when I was thinking about brie, for some reason, and has by now made it across the floor until it sits (Well, it doesn't sit, it's still travelling, just very slowly. And since it's legs barely raise it off the ground you could consider it, if your definition of sitting was rather vague, to be sitting.) under the one window in my cell. It's shell glints in the sunlight, which causes me, I have no idea why, it just does, to look a little more closely, when I realise that it's not a turtle at all but my toothbrush. Which is odd, because I don't remember having brought my toothbrush with me. disclaimer: Ladies and gentlemen, back in the Sane Magazine offices for the first time since 1998 and making his first ever appearance in London and what some people call the spongey isles of Great Britain (not many, granted), we are ever so proud to announce William Murphy's triumphant return to Sane Magazine and Q.I. Productions. Adding to the celeb-spotters' joy and the regular parade of hipsters on the King's Road early Sunday afternoon William and the Sane Magazine Head Editor strolled, taking in the shoppes, chatting with some fans in an unscheduled appearance at Waterstone's, and having a few pints with the locals at Finch's on Fulham Road. William would like to disparage the rumours that at one point in the afternoon he saved a young woman's life, rescued a cat from a tree, and cured the common cold. All at the same time, and all without putting down his pint glass. After practically bludgeoning the poor guy to death with 'phone calls (a death not nearly as much fun as a death by chocolate, for example) and persistence not seen this side of that scotch tape you'd assumed was safe to use to hang posters in your flat, we are proud, wildly joyful, and ecstatic all at once to have William Murphy, the author of Curious, a novel and the highly anticipated Sleep(s) on Chickens and one of the early Sane Magazine writers once again back in the office and on staff. He'll be occasionally contributing articles to Sane Magazine, mentoring certain writers we've on staff, and doing publicity for Sane Magazine, mostly in the States, as we're not asking him to leave his Worcester, MA home to fulfill his obligations. For the next week he'll be in London, making an official appearance at Waterstone's in Earl's Court, and working on a short film project he's been working on with a few people from the office for some time now, and which is slated to begin shooting sometime next month. In other news, Q.I. Productions is pretty happy to announce the beta release of it's software licence and will be shipping it's first product later this week to interested parties. For those interested in participating in our beta programme for the Sane Magazine horoscopes parser or future software, drop an email to software@sanemagazine.com.


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