For a while, I had a capture of my twitter feed running here. It ended up doing something weird to my API calls, stopping me from running my desktop client, so I killed it. Which is probably just as well, as I talk a lot of shit on Twitter. It’s basically mental slurry, the wet lumpy bits from a day spent at the keyboard vented off into a trap so the buildup doesn’t blow some crucial valve in my head. Look at these, from the last six weeks or so:

* Stratford looks more and more like the construction site for the tenth circle of hell

* Apparently Oral Roberts is dead, but no reports yet of his being staked, beheaded and garlic being shoved in the stump

* I’m told that @Paul_Cornell is so mean that he once staked a vampire with his willy and left it to sparkle to death on the lawn

* Also, @ZolaJesus once fucked all the hair off a werewolf and threw it in the snow to die

* Anthrax found in dead Glaswegian heroin user. It’s true: anthrax is undetectable in Glaswegian food.

* Jobless, homeless people everywhere, and not one offers me rental of their freshly disinterred guts for warmth. They must WANT to be poor.

* Why do Xmas cards never show a woman in a shit-covered cowshed squatting a baby out into a rotting feed trough?

* I just became the mayor of your wife on #foursquare

* So, listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about field-dressing you and wearing your skin like a cape. But not in a creepy way.

* Warren’s Rule: if Warren has been awake less than two hours, then it is Morning, no matter what the clock says

* GF and daughter stranded in car in sudden snowfall. May be in market for new GF and/or daughter. Send CVs.

* Okay, they made it home alive. So if we can just pretend my last send didn’t happen, that’d be great. (Email CVs privately, for future ref)

* I worry for the minds of all the people voting for me in the Shorty Awards for "cultural institution."

* Haven’t trimmed my beard in so long that it’s gone from Crackling Virility Hedge to Hobo Rape Thicket.

* Me: iTunes For Windows, you are an evil bloated piece of shitware. iTunes: HA HA FUCK YOU THERE IS NO ESCAPE

* pitching my new kid’s tv show THE OMAR LITTLE / BROTHER MOUZONE ACTION HOUR

* Since the dawn of time itself, humans have dreamed of killing other humans with sharpened ducks

* Haven’t shaved my head in a few days, and now my skull has the texture of an old Fuzzy-Felt board

* pitching my new TV show THE IT’S REALLY NO DIFFERENT FROM VICTORIANS TOURING ASYLUMS FOR FUN ON A SUNDAY FACTOR

* That new Pan Sonic/Keiji Haino record: nice fuzzy drone, then someone pukes a million exploding frogs into a steel toilet.

* Tomorrow, "dogs" will be reclassified as "air sharks," and dolphins as "bastards of the ocean." Good night.

* People say I complain a lot about things, but good news! Oral Roberts is still dead.

* The worst thing about being self-employed is the constant workplace sexual abuse from my boss.

* Child: talking endlessly about wanting a raccoon. Me: thinking about feeding her to one.

* Ah, Skullflower. I love how your CDs still sound like a mad priest using a power drill to make an iron and rabbit smoothie.

* Martian rover Spirit stuck in sand for good: which is of course what happens when you give a human’s job to a skateboard.

* The stages of listening to a new Eluvium album: 1) this is pretty 2) I feel cold 3) I really am totally alone 4) death sounds warm