The waiting is the worst part

The booze has continued to flow since my last post, although it has officially stopped being fun. I’m definitely in.a grim headspace today. I’m not sure where my sleep pattern is now, as I went to bed at 2 pm yesterday and got up for my “morning” coffee around 11 pm. Perhaps more booze will correct it.

The smart meter installation is due to take place somewhere between 10 am and 2 pm later, which I hope goes painlessly. I still need to tidy up the kitchen, as there are empty beer cans covering much of one surface. And the top of the microwave. I’m not particularly “house proud”.

I’ll hold fire on the bottle until it’s all over. Think I’ll need to set up an account on the energy company’s app, so that’ll require sobriety. I’m a technophobe at the best of times.

Feeling a sense of dread, which I could really do without. Guess it’s the wine and cider. Managed a wank before I got out of bed though. Squirted all over my tummy. Today’s fantasy involved a teen lad going round to hang out with the boy-next-door. Things descend after they retire upstairs to the boy’s bedroom. His mum watches the kinky proceedings for a bit, until she decides that maybe three’s a crowd.

“The Whistler” downstairs is definitely still a free man, although he’s being mercifully quiet right now. I’m sure his ranting and raving and home trashing will proceed soon enough.

I’m not joking, he literally just started banging doors after I finished the above paragraph.

Good grief.

Those sores on my back persist, so they mustn’t be to do with my skin rubbing against the damp sheets in bed. Surely they would heal within 24 hours, if so. Hmm, this can’t be good. If it’s cancer, I just hope it takes me quickly. I haven’t got anything to fight for anymore.

The temperature has dropped enough that i’ve been able to shut windows, thus allowing me a bit of peace and quiet. Due to the constantly revolving community of tenants and the council’s need to prepare properties for new arrivals, the estate is like a building site most of the time. It’s best avoided if you have problems with anxiety, as I do.

Can’t imagine why I drink so much.

Had a cute new supermarket delivery driver yesterday. He has two kids of his own, so I didn’t bother trying to flirt. Not that I’m good at that sort of thing anyway. I usually come up with decent things to say long after they’re gone.

Well, I best go scrub off the filth and start tidying the kitchen.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

Brothers, sisters, paranoid schizophrenics

I now have a digital phone line, which I assume is really a microphone that the government can switch on whenever they see fit. Not that I’m a paranoid conspiracy theorist, or anything. The engineer was nice enough, but he did bugger off for a 2-hour lunch before finishing. Having been awake for 24 hours when he turned up, I really could have done without him prolonging the nightmare in such a manner. But, hey, at least it’s out of the way now.

Needless to say, I hit the bottle afterwards, which I felt I really deserved.

Now I just have the smart meter installation on Friday to get through. I’m sure it will be just as much, if not more, of a tortuous experience as the phone guy. I keep reminding myself that it will mean I never have to leave my home ever again, but I’m still not 100% sure they’ll be able to get it sorted. The last time someone tried to instal smart meters they couldn’t access the wiring downstairs, but maybe things have changed now.

We shall see…

I have a minor hangover today, but nothing bad enough to keep me in bed. It’s more of a “background radiation” hangover. At least I got a good night’s sleep, however lacking in nutrition a drunken sleep is.

I posted the first chapter of a new serialised story over at The Whittling Post in the early hours of yesterday. I’m not terribly proud of it, but I kept forgetting that, whilst I’d plotted the whole thing out in my head, I hadn’t actually written it down yet. My bad. I’ve got every inch of the protagonist’s apartment planned out, for no good reason at all. That’s not really how you should approach the writing of prose. I guess I did it to help me escape my own grim circumstances.

A very unique form of meditation indeed.

I’ve been watching a YouTube channel capturing the cute relationship between a little French boy and his teenage sister. I guess she could be his girlfriend, as it is France after all. Who knows what they get up to over there. Still, their mundane antics are putting a smile on my face, which doesn’t happen very often these days.

It’s much cooler today, with ominous grey clouds and a tumultuous breeze. Fingers crossed rain is on the way to wash the neighbours off the street. Hot weather seems to power their antisocial antics.

“The Whistler” downstairs has calmed down after his recent violent tantrums. He was shouting racial abuse at a neighbour yesterday, so I wonder whether someone has taken him away to look after. I do not believe he has control over his behaviour, but I feel his recent episodes are stepping out of the “care in the community” remit.

Basically, he is fast becoming a danger to himself and others.

My friend “Lesbo Lisa” finally got back in touch last night. I was texting her in a panic when the phone engineer wandered off to the pub for ages. Her texts are few and far between, but I keep reminding myself that she actually has a life. I just sit around all day freaking out about anything and everything.

Think I’ll go for my bath soon, then maybe have a hair of the dog. I’m not sure. About either. I suppose I can manage until the smart meter installation is done to hit the bottle again.

Or not.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles! 

Dead calm on stormy seas

I’ve been crying this morning, but for no apparent reason. Such is the lot of a person with clinical depression.

I keep imagining myself being interrogated by the police for an unspecified crime, Franz Kafka-style. They keep asking me questions, but won’t tell me why.

The paranoid schizophrenic downstairs, whom I have nicknamed: “The Whistler”, has been having frequent violent tantrums over the past 24 hours. He screams and shouts at invisible persecutors as he bangs doors and smashes objects. I fear he will be the literal death of me, should I encounter him in the stairwell.

This building is a madhouse. There’s no “like a” about it.

I have that telephone engineer coming tomorrow and the smart meter installation on Friday, so I will be getting drunk Friday evening. Very drunk. Cross-over-into-another-dimension drunk. Wish I could now, but I need to prepare my home for intimidating workmen to stomp around in it.

One could argue I should be drunk for these events, but hey-ho.

The temperature has shot back up again, so I’m not in the best of moods due to that. A fly kept attacking me while I was trying to quietly make a sandwich earlier. I lost my temper and screamed at it to leave me alone. I suppose this makes me no more sane than “The Whistler”.

My friend “Lesbo Lisa” hasn’t texted me back in a few days, which is making me anxious. Perhaps I have finally scared her off, just like all the others. Perhaps she has found out that I refer to her as “Lesbo Lisa” and is offended.

It is honestly meant as a term of endearment.

I don’t know why I am trying to analyse why I am feeling so down today, as inconsistent emotions are my stock in trade. I’m sure my mood will pick up at some random point later on. Maybe I should go have a lie down and try for a wank. I’m not sure what will turn me on today, so that’ll be a quest of self-discovery.

As usual.

I’ve had some shopping delivered. The delivery boy was cute, but he didn’t say much. I now leave it up to them to start a conversation, as I assume they hear the same crap at every stop. I don’t like it when they comment on what they can see within my flat, but what else are they supposed to do when they’re stood at the door awkwardly waiting for me to unpack?

I was going to put an exclamation mark there, just after the question mark, but I don’t feel like being so assertive right now.

There’s a lot of noise in the building and out, but the world feels eerily quiet. I’m sure it’s a subjective thing.

Who knows what the tide will bring in.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles

Pain, pleasure, and pastimes

I am very relieved to announce that the temperature has finally dropped considerably. I just couldn’t take anymore days of suffocating humidity. It’s still not cool enough to crawl under the many layers I have on my bed, but at least we’re now experiencing sensible summer temperatures. It’s like when a neighbour listens to music at a sociable volume - you still don’t enjoy their taste in music, but at least it’s not invading your, erm, personal ear space.

I had a panic attack about the telephone company when I woke up this morning, which I could have done without, but a quick wank cleared my mind and enabled me to get up and start brewing my morning cafetière of coffee. Today’s fantasy featured a guy helping his younger brother lose his virginity by allowing him to have sex with his older brother’s willing girlfriend.

It was cute, but figuring out the grammar for the above synopsis was not.

At 2 am this morning, there was a strange altercation between two men outside. FYI this is not another sex fantasy. They both sounded drunk or high and were casually walking down the street chatting. Suddenly, one of the men threw something then ran off. The other man, confused, just said: “Why did he do that?! Weird!”, then wandered off humming to himself. You tell me. I’ve officially given up trying to work out what the people around here are up to.

Speaking of which, “Barking Dog Man” and “Obnoxious Camp Guy” were just having a friendly conversation outside. Now, bear in mind, they were about thirty yards apart, so they were having to shout. Great, two of the most annoying people on the street engaged in a shouting match. Just what you need on a quiet Saturday afternoon!

I might put an extra ticket on tonight’s lottery.

I managed to write a review-that’s-not-a-review-but-really-is article about the film Robot Monster for The Whittling Post before bed last night, which I’m quite proud of. Those posts generally do get quite a lot of views, so at least I’m pleasing somebody in this life.

I have something of a headache this morning, which I’m wondering whether is to do with the release in air pressure. I’ve also got itchy and painful sores on my back, just below my right shoulder, which don’t seem to be going away. I initially assumed they were to do with my skin rubbing against the damp summer perspiration towels I put down on my bed at night (gross, huh?), but now I’m not so sure. If it’s skin cancer, I won’t be seeking treatment. I’ll just hope it finishes me off sooner rather than later.

I might order a takeaway later. I’ve inadvertently started using Food Hub, which I thought was one restaurant’s own website. I thought this because the entire link is the restaurant’s name, so not “Food-Hub-slash-Restaurant-Name”. Know what I mean? Anyway, I hope FH isn’t as hated as Just Eat, which seemed to just be screwing everyone over. When a company shuts down its customer helpline, then you know something’s wrong.

The cooler weather means I’m able to play more than just two races in GTA Online without my console overheating, so that makes a nice change from playing only Downwell and Trials Fusion over and over again. My deteriorating eyesight means there aren’t many games I can use nowadays, which is as depressing as it sounds.

I’ve just had my toast therapy and am now due a bath. The day is racing along at a brisk pace, which is unusual.

I shall leave you all to the rest of your weekends.

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!

The illusion of convenience

Well, that missed parcel problem sorted itself out. As it turns out, my postman left it with a neighbour downstairs, but Royal Mail’s ”new and improved” card-with-no-information-on-it didn’t mention that. So, I put it to you, patient reader, which would have been simpler:

Writing my neighbour’s flat number on a detailed card.

OR

Taking out a phone > turning the phone on > typing in the phone’s passcode > opening the company app > scanning the missed parcel card’s barcode > selecting what’s going to be done with the parcel > typing in my neighbour’s flat number > confirming the action > closing that item screen > closing the app > turning off the phone > putting the phone back in its pocket.

You tell me, but I have an idea.

Sadly, this all means that my gossiping neighbours now all know my full name. Uh oh. I’m off most social media, but I have mentioned my name over at The Whittling Post in the last year or so. I’ve now gone through and removed those references, just in case. I could really do without my neighbours knowing my intimate thoughts and feelings.

Including what turns me on, in the form of my erotic short fiction.

So, yes, I now have two sets of digital phone equipment for the engineer to instal on Monday. Sigh. I’ll let him pick and choose which one he wants to use and ask him nicely to return the other one to his employers. We shall see.

I made that pesto pasta, although it accidentally became more elaborate than I intended it to be. There’s now a massive tub of pasta with pesto and ham and sweetcorn and cheese and spices in the fridge. I wish I could stick to my simpler plans!

I still have my monthly Audible audiobook credit to use up. I’ve not felt very inspired to read of late, probably due to my prolonged patch of alcoholism. Maybe I’ll go fiction this time. Any recommendations? Nothing too heavy though. I am a big softy, after all.

No drop in temperature, unfortunately. In fact, even the breeze has now dissipated. “Barking Dog Man” still resides downstairs, as he’s currently baring his dipshit dub-step crap at full volume.

No wanks. Just random anxiety attacks.

What’s the point of it all, huh?

Do stay in touch, darlings.

Toodles!  

A radioactive wasteland of b.s.

I’ve had a good night’s sleep, at last. It began in the usual hour-or-so chunks, but then escalated into a mega 8-hour orgy of unconsciousness. What a rare delight! I mean, this was after I gave up on the initial sleep attempt and sat watching movies for 7 hours, but whatever. That’s what it takes, folks.

Just missed a delivery from the post office, for which I received a card through the door. The card has little to no information on it to help me, just the creepy epitaph: “We have something for you!”. I now feel like I’m in a slasher movie. The card just goes on and on about how it’s their new and improved card that is apparently more helpful. Cough. I tried entering what I think is a code into their website, but it didn’t work. Sigh. I genuinely believe it’s socially irresponsible and misguided to assume that everyone has the internet nowadays, but that’s the way things are going. This is how dystopian stories about robot apocalypses usually begin.

Just feed us to the slaughter, corporate world. We are lambs to your grinding machine of bullshit.

My new neighbour is moving more stuff into the flat next door. I still haven’t met him yet, but his door was open when I checked to see whether that parcel had been left outside my door. I seemed to hear the dog from downstairs barking its usual incessant bark miles away last night, which was weird. Either its owner has finally been kicked out of the flat downstairs, or he’s just shacked up with some other poor woman and was staying over. He mistreats them, sadly, even shouting violent threats at one a few months ago. The police turned up, but “Barking Dog Man” is still, bafflingly, a free citizen.

Perhaps his antisocial behaviour and domestic abuses are being fed into an AI justice-bot that deems him innocent.

I’m so glad technology is now being used for the benefit of mankind.

I miss porn so much.

There’s a mild breeze in the air today, which is slightly cooling things down. I began to suffocate again later in the evening yesterday, but that eased off as I sat by my lounge window in the early hours. I watched RLM’s new Best of the Worst video, which was fun. My soul really needed some humour. It’s interesting that they were watching Cannon films, as I’ve started watching Cannon’s Missing in Action 2. OMG… we’re in the matrix!

Hmm, maybe not, as surely the food would be better.

Speaking of which, I think I’ll make pesto pasta for dinner later. You know, just to be fancy. I had turkey burgers yesterday, which were nice, although I’m not sure the brioche buns went well with them. I’ll probably just go back to the big, fat, white, seeded burger buns of yore.

Good times.

Not feeling terribly amorous today, but I may try having a wank before I go for my bath. My mind doesn’t seem to quite know what it’s into this week, so I’m workshopping a few fantasies around to see what, erm, sticks. Feel free to recommend any that work for you!

Right, I best go try that missed delivery code again, in the vague hope that it’ll finally be on their broken system.

SMASH THE SERVERS!

Do stay in touch, robot overlords.

Toodles!